Albert grunted. "Do you know what happens to lads who ask too many questions?" Mort thought for a moment. "No," he said eventually, "what?" There was silence. Then Albert straightened up and said, "Damned if I know. Probably they get answers, and serve 'em right.

Where's the pleasure in bein' the winner if the loser ain't alive to know they've lost?

Heaven has no taste." "Now-" "And not one single sushi restaurant." A look of pain crossed the angel's suddenly very serious face.

It occurred to me that at one point it was like I had two diseases - one was Alzheimers, and the other was knowing I had Alzheimers.

On the Disc, the Gods aren't so much worshipped, as they are blamed.

WHO KNOWS WHAT EVIL LURKS IN THE HEART OF MEN? The Death of Rats looked up from the feast of the potato. SQUEAK, he said. Death waved a hand dismissively. WELL, YES, OBVIOUSLY ME, he said. I JUST WONDERED IF THERE WAS ANYONE ELSE.

It's not morbid to talk about death. Most people don't worry about death, they worry about a bad death.