No one is actually dead until the ripples they cause in the world die away.
The Quotable Pratchett: Equal Rites
The Quotable Pratchett: The Light Fantastic
No-one is finally dead until the ripples they cause in the world die away.
Continue reading “The Quotable Pratchett: The Light Fantastic”
The Quotable Pratchett: The Color of Magic
No one is actually dead until the ripples they cause in the world die away
With the passing of Sir Terry Pratchett and the publication of The Shepherd’s Crown, I embarked on an epic re-reading of all 41 official Discworld novels, with the goal of finishing by 31 December, 2016.
Famous for its wit and wisdom, the series offers countless quotable quotes on a variety of subjects. The quotes I share should not be considered the whole of Sir Terry’s excellent prose; indeed, there are the tasty appetizers to a succulent, nourishing meal.
About The Color of Magic
This is the first published Discworld novel; it is also the first in the Rincewind Cycle – the series of books that follow the misadventures of the “WIZZARD” Rincewind.
In this novel, Pratchett introduces us to the workings of the Disc – its mechanics, metaphysics, morality, etc – through the eyes of the Disc’s first Tourist, Twoflower.
If you’ve seen the film The Color of Magic, this book contains the first half of the film [of course there’s more in the book than in the film; there always is] while The Light Fantastic relates the events from the second-half of the film.
The Goodreads Blurb:
The Color of Magic is Terry Pratchett’s maiden voyage through the now-legendary land of Discworld. This is where it all begins — with the tourist Twoflower and his wizard guide, Rincewind.
On a world supported on the back of a giant turtle (sex unknown), a gleeful, explosive, wickedly eccentric expedition sets out. There’s an avaricious but inept wizard, a naive tourist whose luggage moves on hundreds of dear little legs, dragons who only exist if you believe in them, and of course THE EDGE of the planet…
And Now: On to the Quotes!
The Librarian as he appears in The Discworld Companion, illustrated by Paul Kidby
Magic never dies. It merely fades away.
Some pirates achieved immortality by great deeds of cruelty or derring-do. Some achieved immortality by amassing great wealth. But the captain had long ago decided that he would, on the whole, prefer to achieve immortality by not dying.
Being Ymor’s right-hand man was like being gently flogged to death with scented bootlaces.
Promotion in the Assassin’s Guild was by competitive examination, the Practical being the most – indeed, the only – part.
Let’s just say if complete and utter chaos were lightning, then he’d be the sort to stand on a hilltop in a thunderstorm wearing wet copper armor and shouting “All gods are bastards.”
Tourist, Rincewind had decided, meant “idiot”.
You’re just as dead if you fall from forty feet as you are from four thousand fathoms, that’s what I say.
When one’s foot is stuck in the Grey Miasma of H’Rull it is much easier to step right in and sink rather than prolong the struggle.
Rincewind often suspected that there was something, somewhere, that was better than magic. He was usually disappointed.
Lightning is the spears hurled by the thunder giants when they fight. Established meteorological fact. You can’t harness it . . . and even if you could get a harness on it, how could you get it to pull a cart?
It was all very well going on about pure logic and how the universe was ruled by logic and the harmony of numbers, but the plain fact of the matter was that the disc was manifestly traversing space on the back of a giant turtle and the gods had a habit of going around to atheists’ houses and smashing their windows.
[Octarine] is said to be a sort of fluorescent greenish yellow purple.
A man who owned a needle made of octiron would never lose his way, since it always pointed to the Hub of the Discworld, being acutely sensitive to the Disc’s magical field; it would also miraculously darn his socks.
Everyone has gods. You just don’t think they’re gods.
The Patrician of Ankh-Morpork smiled, but with his mouth only.
I assure you the though never even crossed my mind, Lord.
Indeed? Then if I were you I’d sue my face for slander.
. . .
Next: The Light Fantastic
The Complete List
Teaser Tuesday: The Disappearing Spoon
The gnomes are hard at work crafting brilliant articles and staging stunning photographs.
However, once again the wheel of time has turned to
Just in case you don’t know, Teaser Tuesday is a weekly bookish meme, hosted by A Daily Rhythm. Anyone can play along! All you have to do is grab the book you’re currently reading, open to a random page and share two sentences from that page. But make sure you don’t share any spoilers!*
*I wish I could take credit for this introduction, but I shamelessly stole it from Heather over at bitsnbooks. To help me make amends, you should go check out her blog.
This week I’m reading The Disappearing Spoon: And Other True Tales of Madness, Love, and the History of the World from the Periodic Table of the Elements by Sam Kean. The book is an anecdotal walk through the table of elements, and I knew Mr. Kean was an author who really gets me – as they say – when I read these wonderful lines on page twelve:
Probably the biggest frustration for many
students was that the people who got the
periodic table, who could really unpack
how it worked, could pull so many facts
from it with such dweeby nonchalance.
It was the same irritation color-blind
people must feel when the fully sighted
find sevens and nines lurking inside
those parti-colored dot diagrams - -
crucial but hidden information that
never quite resolves itself into
coherence.
Huzzah! Recognition of a plight afflicting eight per cent of men – myself included. Hopefully, the book will live up to my now-high expectations.
In Retrospect
I gave Fragile Things by Neil Gaiman five stars. I liken this selection of short stories to a packet of chips – or crisps, if you prefer – in that I sat down to read only one or two only to look up two hours later having devoured the whole thing. Honestly, it is that good. It’s difficult to pick out a favorite line or story, but this one from “How to Talk to Girls at Parties” best sums up my feelings:
You cannot hear a poem without it changing you.
Running In My Head 