“Mort was already aware that love made you feel hot and cold and cruel and weak, but he hadn't realized that it could make you stupid.”

“I'm not cruel, sir, I won't shoot you in the guts, but I will make you realize how much you took your toes for granted.”

“It was lonely on the hill, and cold. And all you could do was keep going. You could scream, cry, and stamp your feet, but apart from making you feel warmer, it wouldn’t do any good. You could say it was unfair, and that was true, but the universe didn’t care because it didn’t know what “fair” meant. That was the big problem about being a witch. It was up to you. It was always up to you.”

“He couldn't remember having been seventeen; it was something that must have happened to him while he was busy. But it made him feel like he imagined it felt like when you were seventeen, which was like having a permanent red-hot vest on under your skin.”

“I don’t think it's weak to admit you made a mistake. That takes strength, if you ask me.”

“Many people could say things in a cutting way, Nanny knew. But Granny Weatherwax could listen in a cutting way. She could make something sound stupid just by hearing it.”

“It's beautiful," said Mort softly. "What is it?"THE SUN IS UNDER THE DISC, said Death."Is it like this every night?"EVERY NIGHT, said Death. NATURE'S LIKE THAT."Doesn't anyone know?"ME. YOU. THE GODS. GOOD, ISN'T IT?"Gosh!"Death leaned over the saddle and looked down at the kingdoms of the world.I DON'T KNOW ABOUT YOU, he said, BUT I COULD MURDER A CURRY.”