Sybil's female forebears had valiantly backed up their husbands as distant embassies were besieged, had given birth on a camel or in the shade of a stricken elephant, had handed around the little gold chocolates while trolls were trying to break into the compound, or had merely stayed at home and nursed such bits of husbands and sons as made it back from endless little wars. The result was a species of woman who, when duty called, turned into solid steel.

A world like that, which exists only because the gods enjoy a joke, must be a place where magic can survive. And sex too, of course.

When in doubt, choose to live.

It must be powerful language if you canna make oout what the heel it’s goin’ on aboot!

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

When she spoke again it was in the thin, careful and above all brave voice of someone who has pulled themselves together despite overwhelming odds but might let go again at any moment.

It as true that normal people couldn't hear Gaspode speak, because dogs don't speak. It's a well know fact. ... Besides, almost all dogs don't talk. Ones that do are merely a statistical error, and can therefore be ignored.