Quotes by Terry Pratchett

Watching a dog try to chew a large piece of toffee is a pastime fit for gods. Mr. Fusspots mixed ancestry had given him a dexterity of jaw that was truly awesome. He somersaulted happily around the floor, making faces like a rubber gargoyle in a washing machine.

William groaned. It was Vimes. Worse, he was smiling, in a humourless predatory way.Ah, Mr de Worde, he said, stepping inside. There are several thousand dogs stampeding through the city at the moment. This is an interesting fact, isnt it?He leaned against the wall and produced a cigar. Well, I say dogs, he said, striking a match on Goodmountains helmet. Mostly dogs, perhaps I should say. Some cats. More cats now, in fact, cos, hah, theres nothing like a, yes, a tidal wave of dogs, fighting and biting and howling, to sort of, how can I put it, give a city a certain . . . busyness. Especially underfoot,because - did I mention it? -theyre very nervous dogs too. Oh, and did I mention cattle? he went on, conversationally. You know how it is, market day and so on, people are driving the cows and, my goodness, around the corner comes a wall of wailing dogs . . . Oh, and I forgot about the sheep. And the chickens, although I imagine theres not much left of the chickens now.

Did I hear things, or can that little dog speak?” said Dibbler.“He says he can’t,” said Victor.Dibbler hesitated. The excitement was unhinging him a little. “Well,” he said, “I suppose he should know.

You cant map a sense of humor. Anyway, what is a fantasy map but a space beyond which There Be Dragons? On the Discworld we know that There Be Dragons Everywhere. They might not all have scales and forked tongues, but they Be Here all right, grinning and jostling and trying to sell you souvenirs.

I get depressed with these fluffy dragons and noble elves. Elves were never noble. They were cruel bastards. And I dislike heroes. You can’t trust the buggers. They always let you down. I don’t believe in the natural nobility of kings, because a large percentage of them in our history have turned out to be power-crazed idiots. And I certainly don’t believe in the wisdom of wizards. I’ve worked with their modern equivalents, and I know what I’m talking about.

Where do you think theyve gone? he said.Where what? said Lady Ramkin, temporarily halted.The dragons. You know. Errol and his wi - female.Oh, somewhere isolated and rocky, I should imagine, said Lady Ramkin. Favourite country for dragons.But it - shes a magical animal, said Vimes. Whatll happen when the magic goes away?Lady Ramkin gave him a shy smile.Most people seem to manage, she said.She reached across the table and touched his hand.

...You want a special truth. *You* want the truth to be a truth that *you* like. You want it to be a pretty little truth that fits what you already believe!

Theres one thing you can say for air pollution, you get utterly amazing sunrises.

Genius is always allowed some leeway, once the hammer has been pried from its hands and the blood has been cleaned up.

Its like chess, you know. The Queen saves the King.

It wasnt that dwarfs werent interested in sex. They saw the vital need for fresh dwarfs to leave their goods to and continue the mining work after they had gone. It was simply that they also saw no point in distinguishing between the sexes anywhere but in private. There was no such thing as a Dwarfish female pronoun or, once the children were on solids, any such thing as womens work.

Youre free to wear whatever you want, you know

All dwarfs have beards and wear up to twelve layers of clothing. Gender is more or less optional.

The smug mask of virtue triumphant could be almost as horrible as the face of wickedness revealed.

Samuel Vimes dreamed about Clues. He had a jaundiced view of Clues. He instinctively distrusted them. They got in the way. And he distrusted the kind of person who’d take one look at another man and say in a lordly voice to his companion, “Ah, my dear sir, I can tell you nothing except that he is a left-handed stonemason who has spent some years in the merchant navy and has recently fallen on hard times,” and then unroll a lot of supercilious commentary about calluses and stance and the state of a man’s boots, when exactly the same comments could apply to a man who was wearing his old clothes because he’d been doing a spot of home bricklaying for a new barbecue pit, and had been tattooed once when he was drunk and seventeen* and in fact got seasick on a wet pavement. What arrogance! What an insult to the rich and chaotic variety of the human experience!

Gytha Ogg, you wouldn’t be a witch if you couldn’t jump to conclusions, right?” Nanny nodded. “Oh, yes.” There was no shame in it. Sometimes there wasn’t time to do anything else but take a flying leap. Sometimes you had to trust to experience and intuition and general awareness and take a running jump. Nanny herself could clear quite a tall conclusion from a standing start.

Did I do anything last night that suggested I was sane?

Insanity is catching.

The only really sane person in there is Igor, and possibly the turnip. And Im not sure about the turnip.

This is a lovely party, said the Bursar to a chair, I wish I was here.