"The place is also big enough. We could all live there without killing each other." -Rhage "That depends more on your mouth than any floorplan." -Phury"
And I must draft an advertisement for the Daily Prophet, too,' he added thoughtfully. 'We'll be needing a new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher.... Dear me, we do seem to run through them, don't we?
Come here, let me share a bit of wisdom with you. Have you given much thought to our mortal condition? Probably not. Why would you? Well, listen. There's no one alive who can say if he will be tomorrow. Our fate moves invisibly! A mystery. No one can teach it, no one can grasp it. Accept this! Cheer up! Have a drink! But don't forget Aphrodite--that's You can let the rest go. Am I making sense? I think so. How about a drink. Put on a garland. I'm sure the happy splash of wine will cure your mood. We're all mortal you know. Think mortal. Because my theory is, there's no such thing as life,
Some guys step on a rake in the dark, and get mad and go punch somebody. Others step on a rake in the dark and fall down laughing at themselves. I know which kind of guy I'd rather be. So do my friends.
"He looked like every glossy frat boy in every nerd movie ever made, like every popular town boy who'd ever looked right through her in high school, like every rotten rich kid who'd ever belonged where she hadn't. My mama warned me about guys like you. He turned to her as if he'd heard her and took off his sunglasses, and she went down the steps to meet him, wiping her sweaty palms on her dust-smeared khaki shorts. "Hi, I'm Sophie Dempsey," she said, flashing the Dempsey gotta-love-me grin as she held out her hot, grimy hand, and after a moment he took it. His hand was clean and cool and dry, and her heart pounded harder as she looked into his remote, gray eyes. "Hello, Sophie Dempsey," her worst nightmare said. "Welcome to Temptation." --
Friendship is constant in all other things Save in the office and affairs of love. Therefore all hearts in love use their own tongues. Let every eye negotiate for itself, And trust no agent; for beauty is a witch Against whose charms faith melteth into blood.
No enemies had ever taken Ankh-Morpork. Well technically they had, quite often; the city welcomed free-spending barbarian invaders, but somehow the puzzled raiders found, after a few days, that they didn't own their horses any more, and within a couple of months they were just another minority group with its own graffiti and food shops.
"Perriwickturned to Penelope as he set the tray down on a table. "If I might be so bold, my lady-" "Perriwick!" Blake roared. "If I hear the phrase 'if I might be so bold' one more time, as God is my witness, I'm going to toss you into the channel!" "Oh dear," Penelope said. "Perhaps he does have the fever, after all.Perriwick , what do you think?" The butler reached for Blake's forehead, only to have his hand nearly bitten off. "Touch me and die," Blake snarled."
"Invalidating a woman's life choices by saying things like, "Oh, but you'll regret it if you don't have kids," or, "I didn't think I wanted kids either until I had one," is like me going to an Alcoholics Anonymous meeting and telling the newly sober that eventually when they grow old, they'll want to take the edge off with a little gin and tonic and that if they could only just be mature enough to control themselves, they could go on a fun wine-tasting tour in the Napa Valley."
Squiffy, have you ever felt a sort of strange emptiness in the heart? A sort of aching void of the soul?' 'Oh, rather!' 'What do you do about it?' 'I generally take a couple of cocktails.
"Driving is boring," Rabbit pontificates, "but it's what we do. Most of American life is driving somewhere and then driving back wondering why the hell you went."
Here comes Mamma Vauquerr, fair as a starrr; and strung up like a bunch of carrots. Aren't we suffocating ourselves a wee bit?' he asked, placing a hand on the top of her corset. 'A bit of a crush in the vestibule, here, Mamma! If we start crying, there'll be an explosion. Never mind, I'll be there to collect the bits--just like an antiquary.' 'Now, there's the language of true French gallantry,' murmured Madame Vauquer in an aside to Madame Couture.
Wrinkles was her big gray cat. Sierra named him Wrinkles because when he was a little baby he had a wrinkly face. He slept in Sierra's room, but not always on the bed. Mommy said that was 'cause Wrinkles had an attitude. Most cats had attitudes, actually.
"Um, thanks," Jackson told her. "And your name is...?" "I'm Margaret, Margaret Van Der Graaf," she answered with another eerie smile. Her teeth were so white that they looked bleached. "Van Der Graaf?" Jackson repeated, trying to stifle his laughter. He didn't want to be rude to the only person in sight, to this kind-hearted stranger who was offering to help him, but... Van Der Graaf? "What are you laughing at?" Margaret asked with curiosity, flashing him a calculating gaze. "I like my name. If you're going to be a jerk, then I won't help you. You can stay out here on the street through the night for all I care." "...Harsh," said Jackson, giving her a quizzical glance back. There was something 'off' about her, something that Jackson couldn't quite place, something that bordered on horrible loneliness and longing. "Who else lives here, Margaret Van Der Graaf?" He couldn't resist saying her name aloud. Despite its hilarity, it had a nice ring to it. "Who else lives here?" he urged. "Me, myself and I," said Margaret simply, snickering when she saw his horrified and annoyed expression"
But it is infamous that they have not told you!' declared Eustacie. 'Je n'en reviendrai jamais!' 'If it's all the same to you, miss, I'd just as soon you'd talk in a Christian language,' said Mr. Stubbs.
"Maybe a holiday miracle will change Mearth's awful behavior," Mandy suggested with optimism. "The only holiday miracle around here is that Mearth hasn't murdered us both yet," said Alecto, lighting another cigarette, his hands shaking erratically. He looked exhausted and terrified, his gray eyes soulless. "Do you know what Mearth likes, Alecto?" Mandy questioned. "Vegetables, she likes celery a lot, and lettuce," Alecto responded in a quiet monotone. "I don't know what else she likes. I've never asked her." "Well, she has to like something... doesn't everyone?" "Not her, Mandy Valems."
He was not at the moment in very good odour at Bow Street. Such epithets as Blockhead and Blunderer had been used in connection with his last case. 'Jeremiah Stubbs, miss,' said the Runner. 'I am here in the execution of my dooty.