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Witches Abroad (1991) Terry Pratchett

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Also, why did nobody tell me that Reaper Man has the wildest B plot. The A plot is like this deeply moving, intensely aesthetic meditation on mortality and time, but the B plot is the wizards get sent to the Backrooms

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They had been in Ankh-Morpork for three days and Granny was beginning to enjoy herself, much to her surprise. She had found them lodgings in The Shades, an ancient part of the city whose inhabitants were largely nocturnal and never inquired about one another's business because curiosity not only killed the cat but threw it in the river with weights tied to its feet. The lodgings were on the top floor next to the well-guarded premises of a respectable dealer in stolen property because, as Granny had heard, good fences make good neighbors.

Equal Rites - Terry Pratchett

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playing his dress up games

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i can’t believe that dragon keeps eating people. i’m going to [remembers suicide jokes are bad for my mental health] reform the entire police system.

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✧ Was skimming through “Making Money” today to find something and came across this classic

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Any writer needs an eye for the double entendre in the same way that the gamekeeper has to have the mind of a poacher. The deliberate double entendre, on the other hand, is not to be sneezed at; I myself once perpetrated a treble entendre, and I suspect that if sufficient grant money could be made available, the quadruple entendre should not be beyond our grasp.

-- Terry Pratchett - A Slip Of The Keyboard: Collected Non-fiction

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Not "humans are inherently good" or "humans are inherently evil" but a secret third thing (humans are inherently social animals which means that we're very good at cooperating and being compassionate towards those we perceive as being part of our community but we're also very good at being tribal and violent towards those we perceive as threats to our community and everyone defines their community differently)

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can I make a confession. when vimes got described as vetinari's terrier I forgot that terriers came in shapes like

and instead I was picturing. him

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Sir Terry Pratchett awakens. A skeleton stands at his bedside, wearing a long black robe. He sits up. “Well, hang on, let me get my hat,” he tells it.

The skeleton reaches into its robe. From abyssal depths it produces a heavy book bound in sheets of lead and night. It is the kind of book that gets stolen by a rugged adventurer from a temple with more spike-traps than the average house of worship contains. It is the kind of book to which the word “tome” might properly be applied. Frost forms on its pages from the lingering chill of the void. 

The skeleton coughs once and holds the book out to the man sitting on the bed.

WOULD YOU SIGN THIS? it asks. BIG FAN.

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Wound up talking about Soul Music to my partner recently, and I described it as a story about grief and memory; Susan is grappling with the question of whether or not her grandfather (who is Capital-D Death, as it turns out) was responsible for her parents’ deaths, and winds up being dragged into her grandfather’s work because he’s too busy trying to get blind drunk and forget about what he’s done. Because despite himself, despite the fact he swears he can give up emotion whenever he wants, he’s fucking aching in sorrow and guilt for having to do what he did, because he had to do it, because they chose to live a mortal life.

And then I paused and said, “And the main plot is that a welsh guy invents rock and roll,” and I think that’s the discworld experience summed up

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“ALL THINGS THAT ARE, ARE OURS. BUT WE MUST CARE. FOR IF WE DO NOT CARE, WE DO NOT EXIST. IF WE DO NOT EXIST, THEN THERE IS NOTHING BUT BLIND OBLIVION. AND EVEN OBLIVION MUST END SOMEDAY. LORD, WILL YOU GRANT ME JUST A LITTLE TIME? FOR THE PROPER BALANCE OF THINGS. TO RETURN WHAT WAS GIVEN. FOR THE SAKE OF PRISONERS AND THE FLIGHT OF BIRDS.

Death took a step backwards.

It was impossible to read expression in Azrael's features.

Death glanced sideways at the servants.

LORD, WHAT CAN THE HARVEST HOPE FOR, IF NOT FOR THE CARE OF THE REAPER MAN?”

Terry Pratchett 28 April 1948 – 12 March 2015

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"And sometimes she baked him a banana pie, which was a kind act. The Librarian was not very familiar with love, which had always struck him as a bit ethereal and soppy, but kindness, on the other hand, was practical. You knew where you were with kindness, especially if you were holding a pie it had just given you."

~ Unseen Academicals (Discworld) by Terry Pratchett

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reading small gods by terry pratchett for the first time (my first discworld read) and it’s incredible. I’m a pastors kid who is now agnostic. This shit is so good to me. It speaks to me like a tortoise to a … well, you get it.

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i can't believe terry pratchett created the Community pizza gag back in 1989