5.Buggre Alle this for a Larke I amme sick to mye Hart of typefetinge. Master Biltonn if no Gentelmann, and Master Scagges now more that a tighte fisted Southwarke Knobbefticke. I telle you, onne a daye laike thif Ennywone withe half and oz of Sense shoulde bee oute in the Suneshain, ane nott Stucke here alle the lielong dale inn thif mowldey olde By-Our-Lady Workefhoppe *AE@;I*
Terry PratchettYou canโt say โif this didnโt happen then that would have happenedโ because you donโt know everything that might have happened. You might think somethingโd be good, but for all you know it could have turned out horrible. You canโt say โIf only Iโdโฆโ because you could be wishing for anything. The point is, youโll never know. Youโve gone past. So thereโs no use thinking about it.
Terry PratchettPoets have tried to describe Ankh-Morpork. They have failed. Perhaps it's the sheer zestful vitality of the place, or maybe it's just that a city with a million inhabitants and no sewers is rather robust for poets, who prefer daffodils and no wonder. So let's just say that Ankh-Morpork is as full of life as an old cheese on a hot day, as loud as a curse in a cathedral, as bright as an oil slick, as colourful as a bruise and as full of activity, industry, bustle and sheer exuberant busyness as a dead dog on a termite mound.
Terry Pratchett