Not for the first time in the history of the universe, someone for whom communication normally came as effortlessly as a dream was stuck for inspiration when faced with a few lines on the back of a card.

This I choose to do. If there is a price, this I choose to pay. If it is my death, then I choose to die. Where this takes me, there I choose to go. I choose. This I choose to do.

If anyone wants one my advise is to go where the orthodox Jews shop, because when it comes to a big black fedora, the guys with ringlets and long black coats definitely know a stylish hat when they see one. You want to get it home and use a hot steaming kettle, and bob's your uncle - you have a hat with all the right curves!

The figures looked more or less human. And they were engaged in religion. You could tell by the knives (it's not murder if you do it for a god).

The trouble with being a god is that you've got no one to pray to.

Do you know how wizards like to be buried?" "Yes!" "Well, how?" Granny Weatherwax paused at the bottom of the stairs. "Reluctantly.

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