“Right now there’s a man on the street outside my doorwith outstretched hands full of heartbeats no one can hear.He has cheeks like torn sheet musicevery tear-broken crescendo falling on deaf ears.At his side there’s a boy with eyes like an anthemno one stands up for.”

“There’s much protest, but it falls on deaf ears.”

“There’s lots of people will help you with alcohol business, but there’s no one out there arranging little meetings where you can stand up and say, ‘My name is Sam Vimes and I’m a really suspicious bastard.”

“Mama always said a good family has one heartbeat. No one knows you like the people you live with, and no one will take up your cause to the outside world quite like your blood relatives.”

“He runs his finger tips along my cheek, caressing my face. “Hush. I’m right here.” He looks at me with deep anguish in his eyes. Like there’s so much he wants to tell me but feels it’s too late now. I want to stroke his face and tell him that it will be okay. That everything will be all right. And I wish so badly that it would be.”

“If there’s one thing that makes a man sick, it’s to have his ale poured out of an ugly hand.”