2 days ago - 
36
36‘We’ve lost them,’ she said. ‘Stop shaking. You’re safe now.’
‘What, you mean I’m all alone with a female homicidal maniac?’ said Rincewind. ‘Fine.’
Sourcery (via fuckyeahrincewind)
Nothing’s louder than the end of a song that’s always been there.
The Wee Free Men - Terry Pratchett (via goldshitter)
4 days ago - 33
33
If you didn’t find some way of stopping it, people would go on asking questions.
The teachers were useful there. Bands of them wandered through the mountains, along with the tinkers, portable blacksmiths, miracle medicine men, cloth peddlers, fortune tellers, and all the other travelers who sold things the people didn’t need every day but occasionally found useful.
They went from village to village delivering short lessons on many subjects. They kept apart from the other travelers and were quite mysterious in their ragged robes and strange square hats. They used long words, like corrugated iron. They lived rough lives, surviving on what food they could earn from giving lessons to anyone who would listen. When no one would listen, they lived on baked hedgehog. They went to sleep under the stars, which the math teachers would count, the astronomy teachers would measure, and the literature teachers would name. The geography teachers got lost in the woods and fell into bear traps.
People were usually quite pleased to see them. They taught children enough to shut them up, which was the main thing, after all. But they always had to be driven out of the villages by nightfall in case they stole chickens.
The Wee Free Men, Terry Pratchett (via catefrankie)
6 days ago - 44
44
Everything that exists, yearns to live. That’s what the cycle of life is all about. That’s the engine that drives the great biological pumps of evolution. Everything tries to inch its way up the tree, clawing or tentacling or sliming its way up to the next niche until it gets to the very top - which, on the whole, never seems to have been worth all that effort.
Reaper Man, Terry Pratchett (via herrissyvoo)
1 week ago - 36
36
Death sat on a mountaintop. It wasn’t particularly high, or bare, or sinister. No witches held naked sabbats on it; Discworld witches, on the whole, didn’t hold with taking off anymore clothes than was absolutely necessary for the business in hand. No specters haunted it. No naked little men sat on the summit dispensing wisdom, because the first thing the truly wise man works out it that sitting around on mountaintops gives you not only hemorrhoids but frostbitten hemorrhoids.
Reaper Man, Terry Pratchett (via herrissyvoo)
1 week ago - 79
79
I believe in freedom, Mr. Lipwig. Not many people do, although they will, of course, protest otherwise. And no practical definition of freedom would be complete without the freedom to take the consequences. Indeed, it is the freedom upon which all the others are based.
Terry Pratchett, Going Postal (2004)
(Source: fuckyeahterrypratchett)
