It Wasn't That Nanny Ogg Sang Badly.

His Mind Worked Fast, Flying In Emergency Supplies Of Common Sense, As Human Minds Do, To Construct A Huge Anchor In Sanity And Prove That What Happened Hadn't Really Happened And, If It Had Happened, Hadn't Happened Much.

No. Men Should Die For Lies. But The Truth Is Too Precious To Die For.

Rincewind Shivered. He Was Not, Of Course, An Atheist; On The Disc The Gods Dealt Severely With Atheists. On The Few Occasions When He Had Some Spare Change He Had Always Made A Point Of Dropping A Few Coppers Into A Temple Coffer, Somewhere, On The Principle That A Man Needed All The Friends He Could Get. But Usually He Didn't Bother The Gods, And He Hoped The Gods Wouldn't Bother Him. Life Was Quite Complicated Enough.

I Dinna Trust Him," Said Slightly Mad Angus. "he Reads Books An' Such.

She Was Not, Herself, Hugely In Favour Of Motherhood In General. Obviously It Was Necessary, But It Wasn't Exactly Difficult. Even Cats Managed It. But Women Acted As If They'd Been Given A Medal That Entitled Them To Boss People Around. It Was As If, Just Because They'd Got The Label Which Said "mother," Everyone Else Got A Tiny Part Of The Label That Said "child".