Granny Weatherwax was firmly against fiction. Life was hard enough without lies floating around and changing the way people thought.

Truth! Freedom! Justice! And a hard-boiled egg!

DO I DETECT A NOTE OF UNSEASONAL GRUMPINESS? said Death. NO SUGAR PIGGYWIGGY FOR YOU, ALBERT.

Joy is to fun what the deep sea is to a puddle. It’s a feeling inside that can hardly be contained.

And when the Patrician was unhappy, he became very democratic. He found intricate and painful ways of spreading that unhappiness as far as possible.

Just erotic. Nothing kinky. It's the difference between using a feather and using a chicken.

Wizards don't believe in gods in the same way that most people don't find it necessary to believe in, say, tables. They know they're there, they know they're there for a purpose, they'd probably agree that they have a place in a well-organised universe, but they wouldn't see the point of believing, of going around saying "O great table, without whom we are as naught." Anyway, either the gods are there whether you believe in them or not, or exist only as a function of the belief, so either way you might as well ignore the whole business and, as it were, eat off your knees.