Occasionally He Would Very Nearly Swear.

Death Was Standing Behind A Lectern, Poring Over A Map. He Looked At Mort As If He Wasn’t Entirely There. You Haven't Heard Of The Bayof Mante, Have You? He Said. “no, Sir,” Said Mort. Famous Shipwreck There. “was There?” There Will Be, Said Death, If I Can Find The Damn Place.

Theres No Stink More Sorrorful Than The Stink Of Wet, Burnt Paper. It Means: The End.

People Look Down On Stuff Like Geography And Meteorology, And Not Only Because They're Standing On One And Being Soaked By The Other. They Don't Look Quite Like Real Science. But Geography Is Only Physics Slowed Down And With A Few Trees Stuck On It, And Meteorology Is Full Of Excitingly Fashionable Chaos And Complexity. And Summer Isn't A Time. It's A Place As Well. Summer Is A Moving Creature And Likes To Go South For The Winter.

A Number Of Religions In Ankh-morpork Still Practiced Human Sacrifice, Except That They Didn't Really Need To Practice Any More Because They Had Got So Good At It.

I'd Like To Sell A Lot Of Books.