“...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.”

“Just remember, sometimes people will put you ahead of themselves. It does happen. (Leta)Yeah, the whole world is just rainbows and puppies. Boy Scouts really do help old ladies cross the street without mugging them and no one ever ignores a trauma victim’s screams. (Aiden)”

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

“You know, it's a funny thing about writers. Most people don't stop to think of books being written by people much like themselves. They think that writers are all dead long ago--they don't expect to meet them in the street or out shopping. They know their stories but not their names, and certainly not their faces. And most writers like it that way.”

“People lie to themselves all the time. If they lie to themselves, how can you expect them not to lie to you?”

“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.”