There are many horrible sights in the multiverse. Somehow, though, to a soul attuned to the subtle rhythms of a library, there are few worse sights than a hole where a book ought to be.

The harder I work, the luckier I become.

His movements could be called cat-like, except that he did not stop to spray urine up against things.

I write books back to back, and I work very hard on them.

His sister had been sent down to the village to ask Mistress Garlick the witch how you stopped spelling recommendation.

But in his experience it was only a matter of time before the normal balance of the universe restored itself and started doing the usual terrible things to him.

And what had he wanted? He'd never sat down to think about it. But mostly, he wanted yesterday to be different from today.