Ye know full well that the meaning of life is to find your gift. To find your gift is happiness. Never tae find it is misery.

That's a nice song,' said young Sam, and Vimes remembered that he was hearing it for the first time. It's an old soldiers' song,' he said. Really, sarge? But it's about angels.' Yes, thought Vimes, and it's amazing what bits those angels cause to rise up as the song progresses. It's a real soldiers' song: sentimental, with dirty bits. As I recall, they used to sing it after battles,’ he said. 'I've seen old men cry when they sing it,’ he added. Why? It sounds cheerful.' They were remembering who they were not singing it with, thought Vimes. You'll learn. I know you will.

When they're standing right in front of you, kings are a kind of speech impediment.

The kind of accidents you prefer to call...accidents.

You can't go around building a better world for people. Only people can build a better world for people. Otherwise it's just a cage. Besides you don't build a better world by choppin' heads off and giving decent girls away to frogs.

I wish that the people who sing about the deeds of heroes would think about the people who have to clear up after them.

People couldn't become truly holy, he said, unless they also had the opportunity to be definitively wicked.