"“But the gods are on his side, Reacher,” said Nutmeg. “Let’s talk about that, shall we?” said Gilt. “Does that claim strike anyone else as odd? The gods are not generally known for no-frills gifts, are they? Especially not ones that you can bite. No, these days they restrict themselves to things like grace, patience, fortitude, and inner strength. Things you can’t see. Things that have no value. Gods tend to be more interested in prophets, not profits, a-ha.”"

"People enjoy the experience of being fooled, if it promises a certain amount of entertainment."

"Sending no messages would send quite the wrong message."

"Pony sighed. They never took an interest. It was just money. They didn’t know how anything worked. And then suddenly they needed to know, and you had to use baby talk."

"The only way to get something to turn up when you need it is to need it to turn up."

"You know how to pray, don’t you? You just put your hands together—and hope."

"There was a pregnant pause. It gave birth to a lot of little pauses, each one more deeply embarrassing than its parent."

"What was magic, after all, but something that happened at the snap of a finger? Where was the magic in that? It was mumbled words and weird drawings in old books, and in the wrong hands it was dangerous as hell, but not half as dangerous as it could be in the right hands. The universe was full of the stuff; it made the stars stay up and the feet stay down. But what was happening now…this was magical. Ordinary men had dreamed it up and put it together, building towers on rafts in swamps and across the frozen spines of mountains. They cursed and, worse, used logarithms. They’d waded through rivers and dabbled in trigonometry. They hadn’t dreamed, in the way people usually used the word, but they’d imagined a different world, and bent metal around it. And out of all the sweat and swearing and mathematics this…thing, dropping words across the world as softly as starlight."

"Every organization needs at least one person who knows what’s going on, and why it’s happening, and who’s doing it."

"You did what you were told or you didn’t get paid, and if things went wrong it wasn’t your problem. It was the fault of whatever idiot has accepted this message for sending in the first place. No one cared about you, and everyone at headquarters was an idiot. It wasn’t your fault, no one listened to you. Headquarters had even started an Employee of the Month scheme to show how much they cared. That was how much they didn’t care."

"It was like looking for piranhas in a river choked with weeds. There were a lot of bones on the bottom. But, although sometimes you thought you’d glimpsed a flash of silver, you could never be sure you’d seen a fish. The only way to be sure was to jump in."

"It was the heart of any scam or fiddle. Keep the punter uncertain, or, if he is certain, make him certain of the wrong thing."

"If there’s one thing a wizard hates, it’s having to wait while the person in front of them is of two minds about coleslaw. It’s a salad bar, they say, it’s got the kind of stuff salad bars have, if it was surprising it wouldn’t be a salad bar, you’re not here to look at it. What do you expect to find? Rhino chunks? Pickled coelacanth?"

"“You can’t do that!” Greenyham protested weakly, but the fire had drained out of him. Mr. Stowley had collapsed on the floor, with his head in his hands. “Can I not?” said Vetinari. “I am a tyrant. It’s what we do.”"

"He ought to be ashamed. It was one thing to put words in the mouths of the gods; priests did it all the time. But this, this was a step too far. You had to be some kind of bastard to think of something like this."

"Maybe it was like the Post Office, maybe the profit turned up spread around the whole of society."

"I can fake sincerity so well that even I can’t tell."

"Sometimes the truth is arrived at by adding all the little lies together and deducting them from the totality of what is known."

"Peel away the lies, and the truth would emerge, naked and ashamed and with nowhere else to hide."

"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."

"The people who guard the rainbow don’t like those who get in the way of the sun."

"In one way or another, are we not all looking for our cow?"

"“I’m sure it can wait, Commander.” “Yes, sir. That’s the trouble, sir. That’s what it’s doing.” Vetinari waved a languid hand. “Full carts congesting the street, Vimes, is a sign of progress,” he declared. “Only in the figurative sense, sir,” said Vimes. (p. 9)"

"All the city’s departments got inspected from time to time, Vetinari had said. There was no reason why the Watch should be passed over, was there? It was, after all, a major drain on the city coffers. Vimes had pointed out that a drain was where things went to waste. Nevertheless, Vetinari had said. Just “nevertheless.” You couldn’t argue with “nevertheless.” (p. 15)"

"“I can tell you anything you need to know,” said Vimes. “Yes, Your Grace, but that is not how an inquiry works. I must act completely independently. Quis custodiet ipsos custodes? Your Grace.” “I know that one,” said Vimes. “Who watches the watchmen? Me, Mr. Pessimal.” “Ah, but who watches you, Your Grace?” said the inspector with a brief smile. “I do that, too. All the time,” said Vimes. “Believe me.” (p. 17)"

"There was more…yes, call it venom in the air. Too much ancient politics, too many chips handed down from shoulder to shoulder. Too much boozing, too. (p. 23)"

"He preached to the superiority of dwarf over troll, and that the duty of every dwarf was to follow in the footsteps of their forefathers and remove trollkind from the face of the world. It was written in some holy book, apparently, so that made it okay, and probably compulsory. (p. 24)"

"“It’s only stamps, sir,” said Cheery. “I mean, there’s no law against stamps…” “There ought to be one against being a bloody fool!” “If there was, sir, we’d be on overtime every day!” said Cheery, grinning. (p. 26)"

"You could barely understand the man, he was that posh. It was not so much speech as modulated yawning. (p. 34)"

"“The mural is one of the most recognizable paintings in the world! Every civilized person hwould spot it in an instant!” “What did it look like?” said Fred Colon. (p. 35)"

"“D’you know much about art, Nobby?” “If necessary, Sarge.” “Oh, come on, Nobby!” “What? Tawneee says what she does is Art, Sarge. And she wears more clothes than a lot of the women on the walls around here, so why be sniffy about it?” “Yeah, but…” Fred Colon hesitated here. He knew in his heart that spinning upside down around a pole wearing a costume you could floss with definitely was not Art, and being painted lying on a bed wearing nothing but a smile and a small bunch of grapes was good solid Art, but putting your finger on why this was the case was a bit tricky. “No urns,” he said at last. “What urns?” said Nobby. “Nude women are only Art if there’s an urn in it,” said Fred Colon. This sounded a bit weak even to him, so he added: “Or a plinth. Both is best, o’course. It’s a secret sign, see, that they put in to say that it’s Art and okay to look at.” “What about a potted plant?” “That’s okay if it’s in an urn.” “What about if it’s not got an urn or a plinth or a potted plant?” said Nobby. “Have you one in mind, Nobby?” said Colon suspiciously. “Yes, The Goddess Anoia Arising from the Cutlery,”‡ said Nobby. “They’ve got it here. It was painted by a bloke with three i’s in his name, which sounds pretty artistic to me.” “The number of i’s is important, Nobby,” said Sergeant Colon gravely, “but in these situations you have to ask yourself: ‘Where’s the cherub?’ If there’s a little fat pink kid holding a mirror or a fan or similar, then it’s still okay. Even if he’s grinning. Obviously you can’t get urns everywhere.” ‡Anoia is the Ankh-Morpork Goddess of Things That Get Stuck in Drawers. (pp. 40-41)"

"“He said the government hushed it up.” “Yeah, but your mate Dave says the government always hushes things up, Nobby,” said Fred. “Well, they do.” “Except he always gets to hear about ’em, and he never gets hushed up,” said Fred. “I know you like to point the finger of scoff, Sarge, but there’s a lot goes on that we don’t know about.” “Like what, exactly,” Colon retorted. “Name me one thing that’s going on that you don’t know about. There—you can’t, can you?” (p. 43)"

"Vimes leaned back. “Don’t try to put me at my ease, Miss von Humpeding,” he said. “It makes me nervous when people do that. It’s not as though I have any ease to be put at.” (p. 46)"

"“What was your last job?” “Didn’t have one. I was a musician.” (p. 47)"

"People needed to see coppers at a time like this. They gave the illusion that the whole world hadn’t gone insane. (p. 48)"

"The important thing is not to shout at this point, Vimes told himself. Do not…what do they call it…go postal? Treat this as a learning exercise. Find out why the world is not as you thought it was. Assemble the facts, digest the information, consider the implications. Then go postal. But with precision. (p. 53)"

"“Good Morning, Insert Name Here! I am the Dis-Organizer Mark Five, the Gooseberry™. How may I—” it began, speaking fast in order to get as much said as possible before the inevitable interruption. “I swear I switched you off,” said Vimes. “You threatened me with a hammer,” said the imp accusingly, and rattled the tiny bars. “He threatens state-of-the-Craft technomancy with a hammer, everybody!” it shouted. “He doesn’t even fill in the registration card! That’s why I have to call him Insert Nam—” (p. 56)"

"“Then would you like to engage the handy-to-use Bluenose™ Integrated Messenger Service?” “What does that do?” said Vimes, with deep suspicion. The succession of Dis-Organizers he had owned had proved quite successful at very nearly sorting out all the problems that stemmed from owning them in the first place. “Er…basically, it means me running with a message to the nearest clacks tower really fast,” said the imp hopefully. “And do you come back?” said Vimes, hope also rising. “Absolutely!” “Thank you, no,” said Vimes. “How about a game of Splong!™, specially devised for the Mark Five?” pleaded the imp. “I have the bats right here. No? Perhaps you would prefer the ever-popular ‘Guess My Weight in Pigs’? Or I could whistle one of your favorite tunes? My iHum™ function enables me to remember up to one thousand five hundred of your all-time—” “You could try learning to use it, sir,” said Angua, as Vimes once again shut the lid on the protesting voice. “Did use one,” said Vimes. “Yup. As a doorstop,” rumbled Detritus, behind him. “I’m just not at home with technomancy, all right?” said Vimes. “End of discussion.” (pp. 56-57)"

"Vimes had never got on with any game much more complex than darts. Chess in particular had always annoyed him. It was the dumb way the pawns went off and slaughtered their fellow pawns while the kings lounged about doing nothing that always got to him; if only the pawns united, maybe talked the rooks around, the whole board could’ve been a republic in a dozen moves. (p. 67)"

"But maybe it was some mystic ceremony, and who’d look for sense there? (p. 85)"

"Some people would be asking: Whose side are you on? If you’re not with us, you’re against us. Huh. If you’re not an apple, you’re a banana… (p. 87)"

"Vimes carefully lifted the top of the bacon, lettuce, and tomato sandwich, and smiled inwardly. Good old Cheery. She knew what a Vimes BLT was all about. It was about having to lift up quite a lot of crispy bacon before you found the miserable skulking vegetables. You might never notice them at all. (p. 87)"

"Could I ask you to look at things from my point of view? This is my job. This is what I am. I am, therefore I think. (p. 93)"

"Cogito ergo sum, Insert Name Here. I exist, therefore I do sums! (p. 96)"

"Trolls with a message. It was unlikely to be an invitation to a literary lunch. (p. 98)"

"But I want you all, whatever, whoever you are, there is know this: I’ve got no patience with idiots who’ll drag a grudge across five hundred miles and a thousand years. (p. 102)"

"Vimes stared at him. When I first met you, you were chained to a wall like a watchdog and didn’t speak much beyond a grunt, he thought. Truly, the leopard can change his shorts. (p. 103)"

"Would a minute have mattered? No, probably not, although his young son appeared to have a very accurate internal clock. Possibly even two minutes would be okay. Three minutes, even. You could go to five, perhaps. But that was just it. If you could go to five minutes, then you’d go to ten, then half an hour, a couple of hours…and not see your son all evening. So that was that. Six o’clock, prompt. Every day. Read to Young Sam. No excuses. He’d promised himself that. No excuses. No excuses at all. Once you had a good excuse, you opened the door to bad excuses. (p. 121)"

"Vimes try to think. Don’t think of it all as one big bucket of snakes. Think of it as one snake at a time. Try to sort it out. Now, what needs to be done first? Everything. All right, try a different approach. (pp. 142-143)"