“.” Granny said, and cleared her bone-dry throat for a second try. “Esk?”

“Esk wouldn't have known what a collective noun was if it had spat in her eye, but she knew there was a herd of goats and a coven of witches.”

“Mrs. Earwig (pronounced Ar-wige, at least by Mrs. Earwig) believed in shiny wands, and magical amulets and mystic runes and the power of the stars, while Granny Weatherwax in cups of tea, dry biscuits, washing every morning in cold water and, well...mostly she believed in Granny Weatherwax.”

“But you ain't part of it, are you?" said Granny conversationally. "You try, but you always find yourself watchin' yourself watchin' people, eh? Never quite believin' anything? Thinkin' the wrong thoughts?”

“Granny sighed. "You have learned something," she said, and thought it safe to insert a touch of sternness into her voice. "They say a little knowledge is a dangerous thing, but it is not one half so bad as a lot of ignorance.”

“Esk felt that bravery was called for, but on a night like this bravery lasted only as long as a candle stayed alight.”

“This ain’t right, you know. She’s the one who ought to rule, fair enough. And you used magic to help her this far, and that’s all right. But it stops right here. It’s up to her what happens next. You can’t make things right by magic. You can only stop making them wrong.”Mrs. Gogol pulled herself up to her full, impressive height. “Who’s you to say what I can and can’t do here?”“We’re her godmothers,” said Granny.“That’s right,” said Nanny Ogg.“We’ve got a wand, too,” said Magrat.“But you hate godmothers, Mistress Weatherwax,” said Mrs. Gogol.“We’re the other kind,” said Granny. “We’re the kind that gives people what they know they really need, not what we think they ought to want.”