Gytha Ogg Quotes

I heard this story once," she said, "where this bloke got locked up for years and years and he learned amazin' stuff about the universe and everythin' from another prisoner who was incredibly clever, and then he escaped and got his revenge." "What incredibly clever stuff do you know about the universe, Gytha Ogg?" said Granny. "Bugger all," said Nanny cheerfully. "Then we'd better bloody well escape right now.

Gytha Ogg, you wouldn’t be a witch if you couldn’t jump to conclusions, right?” Nanny nodded. “Oh, yes.” There was no shame in it. Sometimes there wasn’t time to do anything else but take a flying leap. Sometimes you had to trust to experience and intuition and general awareness and take a running jump. Nanny herself could clear quite a tall conclusion from a standing start.

Divers alarums and excursions', she read, uncertainly. 'That means lots of terrible happenings, said Magrat. 'You always put that in plays.' Alarums and what?', said Nanny Ogg, who hadn't been listening. Excursions', said Magrat patienly. Oh.' Nanny Ogg brightened a bit. 'The seaside would be nice,' she said. Oh do shut up, Gytha,' said Granny Weatherwax. 'They're not for you. They're only for divers, like it says. Probably so they can recover from all them alarums.

Tiffany had looked up ‘strumpet’ in The Unexpurgated Dictionary, and found it meant ‘a woman who is no better than she should be’ and ‘a lady of easy virtue’. This, she decided after some working out, meant that Mrs Gytha Ogg, known as Nanny, was a very respectable person. She found virtue easy, for one thing. And if she was no better than she should be then she was just as good as she ought to be.

Gytha,” she said, “this is me askin’ you this. Is there any page in this book, is there any single recipe, which does not in some way relate to . . . goings-on?” Nanny Ogg, her face red as her apples, seemed to give this some lengthy consideration. “Porridge,” she said, eventually. “Really?” “Yes. Er. No, I tell a lie, it’s got my special honey mixture in it.” Granny turned a page. “What about this one? Maids of Honor?” “Weeelll, they starts out as Maids of Honor,” said Nanny, fidgeting with her feet, “but they ends up Tarts.” Granny looked at the front cover again. The Joye of Snacks.

I PROBABLY AIN’T ALIVE, GYTHA OGG. YOU KNOW WHAT TO DO AND WHO TO TELL. ALL OF IT GOES TO TIFFANY ACHING EXCEPT THE CAT, YOU. SHE’LL GO WHERE SHE WANTS TO.

Tiffany had looked up “strumpet” in the Unexpurgated Dictionary, and found it meant “a woman who is no better than she should be” and “a lady of easy virtue.” This, she decided after some working out, meant that Mrs. Gytha Ogg, known as Nanny, was a very respectable person. She found virtue easy, for one thing. And if she was no better than she should be, then she was just as good as she ought to be.

Gytha,” she said, “this is me askin’ you this. Is there any page in this book, is there any single recipe, which does not in some way relate to . . . goings-on?” Nanny Ogg, her face red as her apples, seemed to give this some lengthy consideration. “Porridge,” she said, eventually. “Really?” “Yes. Er. No, I tell a lie, it’s got my special honey mixture in it.” Granny turned a page. “What about this one? Maids of Honor?” “Weeelll, they starts out as Maids of Honor,” said Nanny, fidgeting with her feet, “but they ends up Tarts.

Tiffany had looked up ‘strumpet’ in The Unexpurgated Dictionary, and found it meant ‘a woman who is no better than she should be’ and ‘a lady of easy virtue’. This, she decided after some working out, meant that Mrs Gytha Ogg, known as Nanny, was a very respectable person. She found virtue easy, for one thing. And if she was no better than she should be then she was just as good as she ought to be. She had a feeling that Miss Treason hadn’t meant this, but you couldn’t argue with logic.

She’ll be getting ideas above her station in life,” said Granny Weatherwax, as the two witches strolled through the scented air. “She’s a queen. That’s pretty high,” said Nanny Ogg. “Almost as high as witches.” “Yes . . . well . . . but you ain’t got to give yourself airs,” said Granny Weatherwax. “We’re advantaged, yes, but we act with modesty and we don’t Put Ourselves Forward. No one could say I haven’t been decently modest all my life.” “You’ve always been a bit of a shy violet, I’ve always said,” said Nanny Ogg. “I’m always telling people, when it comes to humility you won’t find anyone more humile than Esme Weatherwax.” “Always keep myself to myself and minded my own business—” “Barely known you were there half the time,” said Nanny Ogg. “I was talking, Gytha.

To the surprise of Nanny, and of Ridcully, and possibly even of Granny Weatherwax herself, she slipped her arm around Ridcully’s arm. “Mr. Ridcully and I are going to have a stroll down to the bridge.” “We are?” said Ridcully. “Oh, that’s nice.” “Gytha Ogg, if you keep on looking at me like that I shall give you a right ding around the ear.” “Sorry, Esme,” said Nanny. “Good.” “I expect you want to talk about old times,” Nanny volunteered. “Maybe old times. Maybe other times.” The unicorn reached the forest, and galloped onward.