“...All the shops have been smashed open. There was a whole bunch of people across the street helping themselves to musical instruments, can you believe that?""Yeah," said Rincewind. "...Luters, I expect.”

“Not much call for a barbarian hairdresser, I expect,' said Rincewind. 'I mean, no-one wants a shampoo-and-beheading.”

“Oh no, not -' OF COURSE, WHAT'S SO BLOODY VEXING ABOUT THE WHOLE BUSINESS IS THAT I WAS EXPECTING TO MEET THEE IN PSEPHOPOLOLIS'But that's five hundred miles away!'YOU DON'T HAVE TO TELL ME, THE WHOLE SYSTEM'S GOT SCREWED UP AGAIN, I CAN SEE THAT. LOOK, THERE'S NO CHANCE OF YOU-?Rincewind backed away, hands spread protectively in front of him...'Not a chance!'I COULD LEND YOU A VERY FAST HORSE.'No!'IT WON'T HURT A BIT.'No!' Rincewind turned and ran. Death watched him go, and shrugged bitterly.”

“...for the first time Rincewind saw the troll.It wasn’t half so bad as he had imagined.Umm, said his imagination after a while.It wasn’t that the troll was horrifying. Instead of the rotting, betentacled monstrosity he had been expecting Rincewind found himself looking at a rather squat but not particularly ugly old man who would quite easily have passed for normal on any city street, always provided that other people on the street were used to seeing old men who were apparently composed of water and very little else. It was as if the ocean had decided to create life without going through all that tedious business of evolution, and had simply formed a part of itself into a biped and sent it walking squishily up the beach.(…) How does he hold himself together, his mind screamed at him. Why doesn’t he spill?”

“The Tezuman priests have a sophisticated calendar and an advanced horology," quoted Rincewind."Ah," said Eric, "Good.""No," said Rincewind patiently. "It means time measurement.""Oh.”

“Rincewind had always been happy to think of himself as a racist. The One Hundred Meters, the Mile, the Marathon -- he'd run them all.”

“My name is immaterial,' she said.That's a pretty name,' said Rincewind.”