“I dinna trust him," said Slightly Mad Angus. "He reads books an' such.”

“Even in a dream, even at a posh ball, the Nac Mac Feegle knew how to behave. You charged in madly, and you screamed... politely."Lovely weather for the time o' year, is it not, ye wee scunner!""Hey, jimmy, ha' ye no got a pommes frites for an ol'pal?""The band is playin' divinely, I dinna think!""Make my caviar deep-fried, wilya?”

“He shrugged. - They're just people - he said. - They're just doing what people do. Sir.Lord Vetinari gave him a friendly smile.- Of course, of course - he said. - You have to believe that, I appreciate. Otherwise you'd go quite mad. Otherwise you'd think you're standing on a feather-thin bridge over the vaults of Hell. Otherwise existence would be a dark agony and the only hope would be that there is no life after death. I quite understand.”

“I read anything that’s going to be interesting. But you don’t know what it is until you’ve read it. Somewhere in a book on the history of false teeth there’ll be the making of a novel.”

“He'sh mad?""Sort of mad. But mad with lots of money.""Ah, then he can’t be mad. I've been around; if a man hash lotsh of money he'sh just ecshentric.”

“It looked like the sort of book described in library catalogues as 'slightly foxed', although it would be more honest to admit that it looked as though it had been badgered, wolved and possibly beared as well.”

“He reflected briefly that someone up there was watching over him. 'Thanks a lot,' he said bitterly.”