Most witches don’t believe in gods. They know that the gods exist, of course. They even deal with them occasionally. But they don’t believe in them. They know them too well. It would be like believing in the postman.

I must have read every issue of 'Punch' published in the 20th century, and I think in the process I picked up the true voice of English humour - that amiable, fairly liberal, laconic voice which you find in something like 'Three Men in a Boat.'

Rincewind could scream for mercy in nineteen languages, and just scream in another forty-four.

Cats will amusingly tolerate humans only until someone comes up with a tin opener that can be operated with a paw.

Thou shalt not submit thy god to market forces.

She had heard it said that, before you could understand anybody, you needed to walk a mile in their shoes, which did not make a whole lot of sense, because probably AFTER you had walked a mile in their shoes, you would understand that they were chasing you and accusing you of the theft of a pair of shoes--although, of course, you could probably outrun them, owing to their lack of footwear.

In the end the problem isn't that you have the wrong sort of government for the People, but that you have the wrong sort of People.