And gears," said Anathema. "My bike didn't have gears. I'm sure my bike didn't have gears." Crowley leaned over to the angel. "Oh lord, heal this bike," he whispered sarcastically. "I'm sorry, I just got carried away," hissed Aziraphale.

"Multiple exclamation marks," he went on, shaking his head, "are a sure sign of a diseased mind."

There are many horrible sights in the multiverse. Somehow, though, to a soul attuned to the subtle rhythms of a library, there are few worse sights than a hole where a book ought to be.

He said it was better to belong where you don't belong than not to belong where you used to belong, remembering when you used to belong there.

But…but you can’t treat religion as a sort of buffet, can you? I mean, you can’t say yes please, I’ll have some of the Celestial Paradise and a helping of the Divine Plan but go easy on the kneeling and none of the Prohibition of Images, they give me wind. Its table d´hôte or nothing, otherwise…well, it would be silly.

The people of Ankh-Morpork had a straightforward, no-nonsense approach to entertainment, and while they were looking forward to seeing a dragon slain, they'd be happy to settle instead for seeing someone being baked alive in his own armour. You didn't get the chance every day to see someone baked alive in their own armour. It would be something for the children to remember.

I can't stand any music that requires its singers to be so dumb they wear their baseball caps backwards.