"“Do you think I should pray, Igor?” said Moist, watching his face. “I couldn’t thay. The Igor position on prayer is that it is nothing more than hope with a beat to it.”"

"It contained herbs and all natural ingredients. But belladonna was an herb, and arsenic was natural."

"What to do, what to do? Pray? Moist wasn’t too keen on prayer, not because he thought the gods didn’t exist but because he was afraid they might. All right, Anoia had got a good deal out of him and he’d noticed her shiny new temple the other day, its frontage already hung with votive egg-slicers, fondant whisks, ladles, parsnip butterers, and many other useless appliances donated by grateful worshipers who had faced the prospect of a life with their drawers stuck. Anoia delivered, because she specialized. She didn’t even pretend to offer a paradise, eternal verities, or any kind of salvation. She just left you with a smooth pulling action and access to the forks."

"The strange thing about what lawyers have fun with is that no one else ever sees the joke."

"They looked uncertain. In theory, they should be stampeding up the steps. Moist knew what was holding them back. It was hope. It was the little voice inside that said: This isn’t really happening. It was the voice that drove people to turn out the same pocket three times in a fruitless search for lost keys. It was mad belief that the world is bound to start working properly again if I truly believe, and there will be keys. It was the voice that said “This can’t be happening” very loudly, in order to drown out the creeping dread that it was. He had about thirty seconds, while hope lasted."

"And now, Moist thought, for the Moment of Truth. If possible, though, it would become the Moment of Plausible Lies, since most people were happier with them."

"You know, Mr. Lipwig, killing you right now would solve an incredibly large number of problems."

"“But I have sinned. Oh, indeed I have! I have worshiped false idols!” “Well, sometimes you can’t get real ones,” said Miss Drapes."

"But somebody was Making a Statement. It didn’t matter what it was, so long as it looked impressive."

"I’m in a world where that just happened, Moist thought. Nothing matters. It was an insight of incredibly wonderful liberation."

"On the first day of the rest of his life Moist von Lipwig woke up, which was nice, given that on any particular day a number of people do not, but woke up alone, which was less pleasing."

"“They are tragic” said Vetinari, “and we laugh at their tragedy as we laugh at our own. The painted grin leers out at us from the darkness, mocking our insane belief in order, logic, status, the reality of reality. The mask knows that we are born on the banana skin that leads only to the open manhole cover of doom, and all we can hope for are the cheers of the crowd.” “Where do the squeaky balloon animals fit in?” said Moist. “I have no idea.”"

"“So it’s a replica of a rumor” said Adora Belle. Outside the coach, some gates were swung open. “Indeed,” said Vetinari. “A copy of something that does not exist. One can only assume that it is authentic in every respect.”"

"“I think that comes under the quia ego sic dico rule.” “Yes, what did that mean?” “’Because I say so,’ I think.” “That doesn’t sound like much of a rule.” “Actually, it’s the only one he needs.”"

"This looks like a job for inadvisably applied magic if ever I saw one."

"You get a wonderful view from the point of no return."

"Technically, the city of Ankh-Morpork is a Tyranny, which is not always the same thing as a monarchy, and in fact even the post of Tyrant has been somewhat redefined by the incumbent, Lord Vetinari, as the only form of democracy that works. Everyone is entitled to vote, unless disqualified by reason of age or not being Lord Vetinari. And yet it does work. This has annoyed a number of people who feel, somehow, that it should not, and who want a monarch instead, thus replacing a man who has achieved his position by cunning, a deep understanding of the realities of the human psyche, breathtaking diplomacy, a certain prowess with the stiletto dagger, and, all agree, a mind like a finely balanced circular saw, with a man who has got there by being born.‡ ‡ A third proposition, that the city be governed by a choice of respectable members of the community who would promise not to give themselves airs or betray the public trust at every turn, was instantly the subject of music-hall jokes all over the city. (p. 1)"

"Nutt was young and as such did not have that reverence for age that is had by, mostly, the aged. (p. 7)"

"The thing disappeared down another gloomy corridor, incessantly making that flat honking noise of the sort that duck hunters make just before they are shot by other duck hunters. (p. 8)"

"Unfortunately, Ponder was a clear logical thinker who, in times of mental confusion, fell back on reason and honesty, which, when dealing with an angry Archchancellor, were, to use the proper academic term, unhelpful. And he neglected to think strategically, always a mistake when talking to fellow academics, and as a result made the mistake of employing, as at this point, common sense. (p. 18)"

"Maybe there had been true evil there, but apparently the evil was, oddly enough, always on the other side. (p. 29)"

"It was amazing, he thought, how people would argue against figures on no better basis than “they must be wrong.” (p. 36)"

"“I’m sure the Bursar would not agree with those figures,” said the Senior Wrangler sourly. “That is so,” said Ponder, “but I’m afraid that is because he regards the decimal point as a nuisance.” (p. 36)"

"“With your looks you could snag a man who thinks about more than beer and footie. Just speak with a little more class, eh? You don’t have to sound like—” “My fare, lady?” (p. 43)"

"He would sit all night under the lamp, book of the moment in front of him, dictionary and thesaurus on either side, wringing the meaning out of every word, punching ceaselessly at his own ignorance. (p. 46)"

"He said they ranged in size from unpleasantly large to disgustingly small, had about the same level of culture as yogurt and spent their time picking their own noses and missing. A complete waste of space, he said. It caused quite a stir. Anthropologists are not supposed to write that sort of thing. (p. 47)"

"There are those who say that sherry should not be drunk early in the morning. They are wrong. (p. 49)"

"“People do not understand the limits of tyranny,” said Vetinari, as if talking to himself. “They think that because I can do what I like I can do what I like. A moment’s thought reveals, of course, that this cannot be so.” “Oh, it is the same with magic,” said the Archchancellor. “If you flash spells around like there’s no tomorrow, there’s a good chance that there won’t be.” (p. 49)"

"Tradition is at least as important as bowels, if not quite so useful. (p. 50)"

"Normal people don't become policemen. (p. 93)"

"“Listen, Peaches, trickery is what humans are all about,” said the voice of Maurice. “They’re so keen on tricking one another all the time that they elect governments to do it for them.”"

"Rats! They fought the dogs and killed the cats, and— But there was more to it than that. As the Amazing Maurice said, it was just a story about people and rats. And the difficult part of it was deciding who the people were, and who were the rats."

"No one remembers the singer. The song remains. (p. 160)"

"“Tell me,” said Blind Io. “Is there a god of policemen?” “No, sir,” said Carrot. “Coppers would be far too suspicious of anyone calling themselves a god of policemen to believe in one.” “But you are a gods-fearing man?” “What I’ve seen of them certainly frightens the life out of me. sir. And my commander always says, when we go about our business in the city, that when you look at the state of mankind you are forced to accept the reality of the gods.” The gods smiled their approval of this, which was indeed an accurate quotation. Gods have little use for irony. (p. 147)"

"“You gave me wings when you showed me birds,” said Leonard of Quirm. “I just made what I saw.” The rest of the gods said nothing. Like many professionally religious people—and they were pretty professional, being gods—they tended towards unease in the presence of the unashamedly spiritual. (p. 146)"

"“It’d take a miracle!” “There’s always hope.” “So? There’s always taxes, too. It doesn’t make any difference.” (p. 145)"

"The Horde could calculate the peculiar mathematics of heroism quite quickly. There was, there always was, at the start and finish...the Code. They lived by the Code. You followed the Code, and you became part of the Code for those who followed you. The Code was it. Without the Code, you weren’t a hero. You were just a thug in a loincloth. (p. 143)"

"“Anyway,” Cohen went on, “it dunt matter if someone kills the gods. It does matter that someone tried. Next time, someone’ll try harder.” (p. 141)"

"That’s what prayers are...it’s frightened people trying to make friends with the bully! (p. 140)"

"“Are you, er, are you much of a religious man yourself?” said Rincewind as clouds whipped by the window. “I believe all religions do reflect some aspect of an eternal truth, yes,” said Carrot. “Good wheeze,” said Rincewind. “You might just get away with it.” “And you?” said Carrot. “We-ll...you know that religion that thinks that whirling round in circles is a form of prayer?” “Oh, yes. The Hurtling Whirlers of Klatch.” “Mine is like that, only we go more in...straight lines. Yes. That’s it. Speed is a sacrament.” “You believe it gives you some sort of eternal life?” “Not eternal, as such. More...well, just more, really. More life. That is,” Rincewind added, “more life than you would have if you did not go very fast in a straight line. Although curving lines are acceptable in broken country.” Carrot sighed. “You’re just a coward really, aren’t you?” “Yes, but I’ve never understood what’s wrong with the idea. It takes guts to run away, you know. Lots of people would be as cowardly as me if they were brave enough.” (p. 136)"

"On the veldt of Howondaland live the N’tuitif people, the only tribe in the world to have no imagination whatsoever. For example, their story about the thunder runs something like this: “Thunder is a loud noise in the sky, resulting from the disturbance of the air masses by the passage of lightning.” And their legend “How the Giraffe Got His Long Neck” runs: “In the old days the ancestors of Old Man Giraffe had slightly longer necks than other grassland creatures, and the access to the high leaves was so advantageous that it was mostly long-necked giraffes that survived, passing on the long neck in their blood just as a man might inherit his grandfather’s spear. Some say, however, that it is all a lot more complicated and this explanation only applies to the shorter neck of the okapi. And so it is.” The N’tuitif are a peaceful people, and have been hunted almost to extinction by neighbouring tribes, who have lots of imagination, and therefore plenty of gods, superstitions and ideas about how much better life would be if they had a bigger hunting ground. Of the events on the moon that day, the N’tuitif said: “The moon was brightly lit and from it rose another light which then split into three lights and faded. We do not know why this happened. It was just a thing.” They were then wiped out by a nearby tribe who knew that the lights had been a signal from the god Ukli to expand the hunting ground a bit more. However, they were soon defeated entirely by a tribe who knew that the lights were their ancestors, who lived in the moon, and who were urging them to kill all non-believers in the goddess Glipzo. Three years later they in turn were killed by a rock falling from the sky, as a result of a star exploding a billion years ago. What goes around, comes around. If not examined too closely, it passes for justice. (pp. 129-130)"

"“Some people say you achieve immortality through your children,” said the minstrel. “Yeah?” said Cohen. “Name one of your great-granddads, then.” (p. 110)"

"“Mission motto, sir,” said Carrot cheerfully. “Morituri Nolumus Mori. Rincewind suggested it.” “I imagine he did,” said Lord Vetinari, observing the wizard coldly. “And would you care to give us a colloquial translation, Mr. Rincewind?” “Er...” Rincewind hesitated, but there really was no escape. “Er...roughly speaking, it means, ‘We who are about to die don’t want to’, sir.” (p. 91)"

"“Oh,” said Rincewind. “You understand?” said Ponder. “No. I was just hoping that if I didn’t say anything you’d stop trying to explain things to me.” (p. 90)"

"“Is it just me,” said the minstrel, “or are we missing something here?” “Like what?” demanded Cohen. “Well, these scrolls all tell you how to get to the mountain, a perilous trek that no one has ever survived?” “Yes? So?” “So...um...who wrote the scrolls?” (p. 80)"

"It occurred to him that when you’d had everything, all that was left was nothing. (p. 70)"