Oh, he did his best to make their short lives miserable, because that was his job, but nothing he could think up was half as bad as the stuff they thought up themselves.

The trouble was that he was talking in philosophy but they were listening in gibberish.

"There's a door," he whispered. "Where does it go?" "It stays where it is, I think," said Rincewind.

This is a lovely party," said the Bursar to a chair, "I wish I was here.

It doesn't matter if dragons are flying overhead or whatever - a lot of Victoriana is still cut in the frame of fantasy.

The labyrinth of Ephebe is ancient and full of one hundred and one amazing things you can do with hidden springs, razor-sharp knives, and falling rocks.

Luck is my middle name. Mind you, my first name is Bad.