The more you think about it, the more amazing the everyday world of human beings becomes: most of it doesn't actually exist at all.

She'd become a governess. It was one of the few jobs a known lady could do. And she'd taken to it well. She'd sworn that if she did indeed ever find herself dancing on rooftops with chimney sweeps she'd beat herself to death with her own umbrella.

[...] the awesome splendor of the universe is much easier to deal with if you think of it as a series of small chunks.

There are no inconsistencies in the Discworld books; ocassionally, however, there are alternate pasts.

Stand before your god, bow before your king, kneel before your man.

An author writes a book, and that's the book at that point. And if the author writes the book again, then somehow something has gone wrong, if you see what I mean.

But I think you have a right to know what it is you’re not being told.