Category: going postal

ofpaintedflowers:

ofpaintedflowers:

it dawned on me yesterday that i hadn’t drawn moist and adora yet so that had to be corrected right away.

sociallyawkwardhufflepuff:

sociallyawkwardhufflepuff:

the man in the golden suit , the trickster of a thousand faces withouth a face

leona-florianova:

leona-florianova:

If I ever had to draw Going postal comic…Moists face would never be fully visible.. He would be either  hidden in shadow, slightly blurred or just somehow covered… :V 

Photo

Photo

Regular

Drumknott looked around the office and focused on the slab where the little stone armies were endlessly in combat. “Ah, I see you have won, my lord,” he said.
“Yes, I must make a note of the gambit.”
“But Mr. Gilt, I notice, is not here…”
Vetinari sighed. “You have to admire a man who really believes in freedom of choice,” he said, looking at the open doorway. “Sadly, he did not believe in angels.”


Terry Pratchett, Going Postal

Regular

“–brings me to my point, Mr. Gilt. The Royal Mint needs an entirely new approach. Frankly, it’s moribund and not at all what we need in the Century of the Anchovy. Yes, there is a way forward. In recent months, Mr. Lipwig’s celebrated stamps have become a second currency in this city. So light, so easy to carry, you can even send them through the mail! Fascinating, Mr. Gilt. At last people are loosening their grip on the idea that money should be shiny. Do you know that a typical one-penny stamp may change hands up to twelve times before being affixed to an envelope and redeemed? What the Mint needs to see it through is a man who understands the dream of currency. There will be a salary and, I believe, a hat.”
You are offering me a job?”
“Yes, Mr. Stippler,” said Vetinari. “And, to show the sincerity of my offer, let me point out the door behind you. If at any time in this interview you feel you wish to leave, you have only to step through it, and you will never hear from me again…”

– on another offer |
Terry Pratchett, Going Postal

Regular

They’d saved the city with gold more easily, at that point, than any hero could have managed with steel. But, in truth, it had not exactly been gold, or even the promise of gold, but more like the fantasy of gold, the fairy dream that the gold is there, at the end of the rainbow, and will continue to be there forever – provided, naturally, that you don’t go and look.
This is known as Finance.

– on finance |
Terry Pratchett, Going Postal

Regular

He let the golden glow rise. He’d fooled them all, even her. But the good bit was that he could go on doing it, he didn’t have to stop. All he had to do was remind himself, every few months, that he could quit anytime. Provided he knew he could, he’d never have to.

– on Moist and the future |
Terry Pratchett, Going Postal

Regular

Mr. Pump stayed on his knees for a moment, and then rose slowly. The red eyes focused on Moist, and the golem stuck out his hand.
“I Do Not Know What A Pleasure Is, But I Am Sure That If I Did, Then Working With You Would Have Been One,” he said. “Now I Must Leave You. I Have Another Task.”
“You’re not my, er, parole officer anymore?” said Moist, taken aback.
“Correct.”
“Hold on,” said Moist, as light dawned. “Is Vetinari sending you after Gilt?”
“I Am Not At Liberty To Say.”
“He is, isn’t he? You’re not following me anymore?”
“I Am Not Following You Anymore.”
“So I’m free to go?”
“I Am Not At Liberty To Say. Good Night, Mr. Lipvig.” Mr. Pump paused at the door. “I Am Not Certain What Happiness Is, Either, Mr. Lipvig, But I think – Yes, I Think I Am Happy To Have Met You.”

– on goodbyes |
Terry Pratchett, Going Postal

Regular

He’d have to keep the Trunk going, gods knew how. He’d sort of promised the Gnu, hadn’t he? And it was amazing how people had come to rely on the clacks. He wouldn’t know how Leadpipe had fared for weeks, and even then it’d only be if the wizards were still cooperative. It was like having a finger cut off. But it was a big, cumbersome monster of a thing, too many towers, too many people, too much effort. There had to be a way of making it better and sleeker and cheaper… or maybe it was something so big that no one could run it at a profit. Maybe it was like the Post Office, maybe the profit turned up spread around the whole of society.

– on shared ideas and ideals |
Terry Pratchett, Going Postal