He was certain he was anorectic, because every time he looked in a mirror he saw a fat man. It was the Archchancellor, standing behind him and shouting at him.

I read the best works of some of the best satirists, and indeed best writers from the beginning of the Victorian era to about the 1960s. If you want to be a blacksmith, you go and watch the blacksmith working, and you work out what the blacksmith does.

It's not morbid to talk about death. Most people don't worry about death, they worry about a bad death.

He looked up at them, a scruffy Napoleon with his laces trailing, exiled to a rose-trellised Elba.

Magic never dies. It merely fades away.

If per capita was a problem, decapita could be arranged.

Racism was not a problem on the Discworld, because - what with trolls and dwarfs and so on - speciesism was more interesting. Black and white lived in perfect harmony and ganged up on green.