Sourcery Quotes

I meant," said Ipslore bitterly, "what is there in this world that truly makes living worthwhile?" Death thought about it. CATS, he said eventually. CATS ARE NICE.

And what would humans be without love?" RARE, said Death.

The truth isn't easily pinned to a page. In the bathtub of history the truth is harder to hold than the soap and much more difficult to find.

Perhaps it would be simpler if you just did what you're told and didn't try to understand things.

It's going to look pretty good, then, isn't it," said War testily, "the One Horseman and Three Pedestrians of the Apocalypse.

Despite rumor, Death isn't cruel--merely terribly, terribly good at his job.

It's vital to remember who you really are. It's very important. It isn't a good idea to rely on other people or things to do it for you, you see. They always get it wrong.

It was quite impossible to describe. Here is what it looked like. It looked like a piano sounds shortly after being dropped down a well. It tasted yellow, and it felt Paisley. It smelled like the total eclipse of the moon.

Some people think this is paranoia, but it isn't. Paranoids only think everyone is out to get them. Wizards know it.

The thief, as will become apparent, was a special type of thief. This thief was an artist of theft. Other thieves merely stole everything that was not nailed down, but this thief stole the nails as well.

I don’t know what to do,” he said. “No harm in that. I’ve never known what to do,” said Rincewind with hollow cheerfulness. “Been completely at a loss my whole life.” He hesitated. “I think it’s called being human, or something.

There was a man and he had eight sons. Apart from that, he was nothing more than a comma on the page of History. It's sad, but that's all you can say about some people.

If failure had no penalty success would not be a prize.

I don't regret it, you know. I would do it all again. Children are our hope for the future." THERE IS NO HOPE FOR THE FUTURE, said Death. "What does it contain, then?" ME.

YOU'RE ONLY PUTTING OFF THE INEVITABLE, he said. That's what being alive is all about.

Talent just defines what you do,” he said. “It doesn’t define what you are. Deep down, I mean. When you know what you are, you can do anything.

They suffered from the terrible delusion that something could be done. They seemed prepared to make the world the way they wanted it or die in the attempt, and the trouble with dying in the attempt was that you died in the attempt.

As they say in Discworld, we are trying to unravel the Mighty Infinite using a language which was designed to tell one another where the fresh fruit was.

He didn't administer a reign of terror, just the occasional light shower.

Oh, there's plenty of reasons. I just don't know which one.

Rincewind rather enjoyed times like this. They convinced him that he wasn’t mad because, if he was mad, that left no word at all to describe some of the people he met.

Not much call for a barbarian hairdresser, I expect,' said Rincewind. 'I mean, no-one wants a shampoo-and-beheading.

There are eight levels of wizardry on the Disc; after sixteen years Rincewind has failed to achieve even level one. In fact it is considered opinion of some of his tutors that he is incapable even of achieving level zero, which most normal people are born at; to put it another way, it has been suggested that when Rincewind dies the average occult ability of the human race will actually go up by a fraction.

There’s nothing more terrible than someone out to do the world a favor.

The gods," he said. "Imprisoned in a thought. And perhaps they were never more than a dream.

Despite rumor, Death isn’t cruel—merely terribly, terribly good at his job.

The Lawyers of Fate demand a loophole in every prophecy.

It didn't look like the kind of snow that whispers down gently in the pit of the night and in the morning turns the landscape into a glittering wonderland of uncommon and ethereal beauty. It looked like the kind of snow that intends to make the world as bloody cold as possible.

There had been a time when the continents were different, Rincewind understood, and then they'd sort of shuffled more comfortably together like puppies on a basket.

He had spent years in search of boredom, but had never achieved it. Just when he thought he had it in his grasp his life would suddenly become full of near-terminal interest.

what is there in this world that makes living worthwhile?” Death thought about it. CATS, he said eventually, CATS ARE NICE.

Of course, like all the informal inhabitants of the University the roaches were a little unusual, but there was something particularly unpleasant about the sound of billions of very small feet hitting the stones in perfect time. Rincewind stepped gingerly over the marching column. The Librarian jumped it. The Luggage, of course, followed them with a noise like someone tapdancing over a bag of crisps.

Talent just defines what you do...It doesn't define what you are. Deep down, I mean. When you know what you are, you can do anything

In other words, it’s the familiar hot sinking feeling experienced by everyone who has let the waves of their own anger throw them far up on the beach of retribution, leaving them, in the poetic language of the everyday, up shit creek.

The truth isn’t easily pinned to a page. In the bathtub of history the truth is harder to hold than the soap, and much more difficult to find

It is a well-known established fact throughout the many-dimensional worlds of the multiverse that most really great discoveries are owed to one brief moment of inspiration. There's a lot of spadework first, of course, but what clinches the whole thing is the sight of, say, a falling apple or a boiling kettle or the water slipping over the edge of the bath. Something goes click inside the observer's head and then everything falls into place. The shape of DNA, it is popularly said, owes its discovery to the chance sight of a spiral staircase when the scientist‘s mind was just at the right receptive temperature. Had he used the elevator, the whole science of genetics might have been a good deal different. This is thought of as somehow wonderful. It isn't. It is tragic. Little particles of inspiration sleet through the universe all the time traveling through the densest matter in the same way that a neutrino passes through a candyfloss haystack, and most of them miss. Even worse, most of the ones that hit the exact cerebral target, hit the wrong one. For example, the weird dream about a lead doughnut on a mile-high gantry, which in the right mind would have been the catalyst for the invention of repressed-gravitational electricity generation (a cheap and inexhaustible and totally non-polluting form of power which the world in question had been seeking for centuries, and for the lack of which it was plunged into a terrible and pointless war) was in fact had by a small and bewildered duck. By another stroke of bad luck, the sight of a herd of wild horses galloping through a field of wild hyacinths would have led a struggling composer to write the famous Flying God Suite, bringing succor and balm to the souls of millions, had he not been at home in bed with shingles. The inspiration thereby fell to a nearby frog, who was not in much of a position to make a startling contributing to the field of tone poetry. Many civilizations have recognized this shocking waste and tried various methods to prevent it, most of them involving enjoyable but illegal attempts to tune the mind into the right wavelength by the use of exotic herbage or yeast products. It never works properly.

There is no hope for the future, said Death

The day had, in fact, reached that gentle point when it was too late for housebreaking and too early for burglary.

El futuro contuvo el aliento, a la espera de la decisión de Rincewind.

I've never known what to do," said Rincewind with hollow cheerfulness. "Been completely at a loss my whole life." He hesitated. "I think it's called being human, or something.

The landscape rose and fell like a honeymoon duvet,

The Librarian looked at his charges approvingly, made his last rounds of the slumbering shelves, and then dragged his blanket underneath his desk, ate a goodnight banana, and fell asleep.

I’m not going to ride on a magic carpet!” he hissed. “I’m afraid of grounds!” “You mean heights,” said Conina. “And stop being silly.” “I know what I mean! It’s the grounds that kill you!

It looked like a piano sounds shortly after being dropped down a well. It tasted yellow, and felt Paisley. It smelled like a total eclipse of the moon. Of course, nearer to the tower it got really weird.

Birds nested among the gutters and eaves of Unseen University, although it was noticeable that however great the pressure on the nesting sites they never, ever, made nests in the invitingly open mouths of the gargoyles that lined the rooftops, much to the gargoyles’ disappointment.

For example, a popular spell at the time was Pelepel’s Temporal Compressor, which on one occasion resulted in a race of giant reptiles being created, evolving, spreading, flourishing and then being destroyed in the space of about five minutes, leaving only its bones in the earth to mislead forthcoming generations completely.

Silence isn’t the opposite of sound, it is merely its absence.

He was tall and wiry and looked as though he had been a horse in previous lives and had only just avoided it in this one.

He pushed enthusiastically, his biceps standing out on his arms like peas on a pencil.

Down these mean streets a man must walk, he thought. And along some of them he will break into a run.

And what would humans be without love?” RARE, said Death.

The truth isn’t easily pinned to a page. In the bathtub of history the truth is harder to hold than the soap, and much more difficult to find…

-Dzieci to nasza nadzieja na przyszłość. -NIE MA NADZIEI NA PRZYSZŁOŚĆ, oświadczył Śmierć. -Więc co nas tam czeka? -JA.

The future held its breath, waiting for Rincewind to walk away. He didn’t do this for three reasons. One was alcohol.

It’s vital to remember who you really are. It’s very important. It isn’t a good idea to rely on other people or things to do it for you, you see. They always get it wrong.

Quick, you must come with me,' she said. 'You're in great danger!' 'Why?' 'Because I will kill you if you don't.

Other things besides the cream floated to the top, he reflected sourly.

What he wanted was a couple of cool beers, a cold bath and a change of clothing; it probably wouldn't make him feel better, but it would at least make feeling awful more enjoyable.

There are people who can’t quite believe that children are fully human, and think that the operation of normal good manners doesn’t apply to them.

THERE IS NO HOPE FOR THE FUTURE, said Death. ‘What does it contain, then?’ ME. ‘Besides you I mean!’ Death gave him a puzzled look. I’M SORRY? ‘I meant,’ said Ipslore, bitterly, ‘what is there in this world that makes living worth while?’ Death thought about it. CATS, he said eventually, CATS ARE NICE.

My father always said that it was pointless to undertake a direct attack against an enemy extensively armed with efficient projectile weapons,” she said. Rincewind, who knew Cohen’s normal method of speech, gave her a look of disbelief. “Well, what he actually said,” she added, “was never enter an arse-kicking contest with a porcupine.

Not much. I never really spent anything. I’ve often wondered what being poor was like.” “You’re going to get a huge opportunity to find out.” “Will I need training?” “It comes naturally,” said Rincewind. “You pick it up as you go along.

It was a shocking breach of etiquette in any case; no wizard should even think of touching another’s staff without his express permission. But there are people who can’t quite believe that children are fully human, and think that the operation of normal good manners doesn’t apply to them.

My grandfather built up the family fortunes with them,’ said Creosote wistfully. ‘His wicked uncle locked him in a cave, you know. He had to set himself up with what came to hand. He had nothing in the whole world but a magic carpet, a magic lamp, a magic ring and a grottoful of assorted jewels.’ ‘Came up the hard way, did he?’ said Rincewind.

Chciałem powiedzieć - wyjaśnił z goryczą Ipslore - że na tym świecie jest chyba coś, dla czego warto żyć. KOTY, stwierdził w końcu, KOTY SĄ MIŁE.

Siedź cicho i staraj się wyglądać jak ofiara, dobrze? Z tym poradzę sobie bez trudu - mruknął Rincewind (...) - Mam sporo praktyki.

(…) jego umysł był już tak pełen przejmujących chłodem myśli, że mógłby służyć za agregat lodówki.

He was red with anger, except where he was white with rage. When he spoke, his words seared through the air like so many knives, clipped as topiary, crisp as biscuits.

They seemed prepared to make the world the way they wanted it or die in the attempt, and the trouble with dying in the attempt was that you died in the attempt.

It was the sort of noise that makes the silence that comes after it roll forward like a warm avalanche.

I meant,” said Ipslore, bitterly, “what is there in this world that makes living worthwhile?” Death thought about it. CATS, he said eventually, CATS ARE NICE.

Nikt nie wie dlaczego, niezależnie od mocy wybuchu, zawsze pozostają dymiące buty. To chyba po prostu jedna z tych rzeczy...

Wbrew plotkom, Śmierć nie jest okrutny; jest po prostu perfekcyjny, straszliwie perfekcyjny w swej pracy.

Uznał, ze jeśli kilka piw nie pozwoli mu zobaczyć sytuacji w innym świetle, to prawdopodobnie dokona tego kilka następnych.

Talent określa, co człowiek robi - oznajmił Rincewind. - Nie określa, kim człowiek jest. Znaczy, w głębi duszy. Kiedy wiesz, kim jesteś, możesz dokonać wszystkiego.

Czy to wystarczająco mała szansa? DOSTATECZNIE MOLEKULARNA.

Coin reached out very slowly, and picked it up. Rincewind

Ale - jak często się zdarza w efekcie działania niezwykłej alchemii duszy - poczucie winy napełniło ich arogancją i brawurą.

Trudno byłoby opisać jego stosunek do reszty stworzenia, zacząć jednak można od określenia “piekielna złośliwość”, a potem posuwać się dalej.

Daleko ispod, more je srkalo šljunak, bučno kao starac sa jednim zubom kad se dočepa lilihipa.

Jedan od Rinsvindovih učitelja izjavio je da nazvati njegovo razumevanje magijske teorije očajnim znači ne ostaviti odgovarajuću reč za njegovo poimanje njene prakse.

If we get a chance,” whispered Rincewind to Nijel, “we run, right?” “Where to?” “From,” said Rincewind, “the important word is from.

...one of those people who, if you say ‘don’t look now’, would immediately swivel his head like an owl on a turntable. These are the same people who, when you point out, say, an unusual crocus just beside them, turn round aimlessly and put their foot down with a sad little squashy noise. If they were lost in a trackless desert you could find them by putting down, somewhere on the sand, something small and fragile like a valuable old mug that had been in your family for generations, and then hurrying back as soon as you heard the crash.

Polubił wygodne, długie ramiona, chwytne stopy i prawo publicznego czochrania się. Najbardziej jednak podobało mu się, że wszystkie problemy egzystencji ustąpiły nagle przed zainteresowaniem, z której strony nadejdzie kolejny banan. Oczywiście, zdarzał sobie sprawę ze szlachetności i tragizmu stanu człowieczego. Po prostu - jeżeli chodziło o jego opinię - ludzie mogli się nimi wypchać.

What is it?” hissed Conina. “It’s just the Luggage,” said Rincewind wearily. “Does it belong to you?” “Not really. Sort of.” “Is it dangerous?” The Luggage shuffled around to stare at her again. “There’s two schools of thought about that,” said Rincewind. “There’s some people who say it’s dangerous, and others who say it’s very dangerous. What do you think?” The Luggage raised its lid a fraction.

The Luggage was also extremely protective of its owner. It would be hard to describe its attitude to the rest of creation, but one could start with the phrase “bloody-minded malevolence” and work up from there. Conina

NOTHING IS FINAL. NOTHING IS ABSOLUTE. EXCEPT ME, OF COURSE. SUCH TINKERING WITH DESTINY COULD MEAN THE DOWNFALL OF THE WORLD. THERE MUST BE A CHANCE, HOWEVER SMALL. THE LAWYERS OF FATE DEMAND A LOOPHOLE IN EVERY PROPHECY.

Rincewind looked up at the tall black figure that had appeared a few feet away. It was, of course, Death. He turned his glowing eyesockets toward Rincewind and said, in a voice like the collapse of undersea chasms, GOOD AFTERNOON.

Wiadomość, że ktoś z własnej woli rezygnuje z perspektywy pięćdziesięciu lat nudy sprawiła, że zmiękły mu kolana. Mając przed sobą pięćdziesiąt lat, zdołałby podnieść nudę do kategorii sztuki. Nie miałyby końca rzeczy których by nie robił.

* The vermine is a small black-and-white relative of the lemming, found in the cold Hublandish regions. Its skin is rare and highly valued, especially by the vermine itself; the selfish little bastard will do anything rather than let go of it.

What a Morpork citizen liked to have on his side in a fight was odds of about twenty to one, but failing that a sockful of half-brick and a dark alley to lurk in was generally considered a better bet than any two magic swords you cared to name. He

There was something else I was trying to say,’ said Rincewind, letting go of the hand. He looked blank for a moment, and then added, ‘Oh, yes. It’s vital to remember who you really are. It’s very important. It isn’t a good idea to rely on other people or things to do it for you, you see. They always get it wrong.

That's what you people never understand," said Rincewind, wearily. "You think magic is just something you can pick up and use like a, a -" "Parsnip?" said Nijel. "Wine Bottle?" said the Seriph. "Something like that," said Rincewind cautiously, but rallied somewhat and went on, "But the truth is, is -" "Not like that?" "More like a wine bottle?" said the Seriph hopefully. "Magic uses people," said Rincewind hurriedly. "It affects you as much as you affect it, sort of thing. You can't mess around with magical things without it affecting you. I just thought I'd better warn you." "Like a wine bottle," said Creosote, "that -" "- drinks you back," said Rincewind.

It’s a box!” “It could be treasure, do you think?” “It’s growing legs, by the Seven Moons of Nasreem!” “Five moons—” “Where’d it go? Where’d it go?” “Never mind about that, it’s not important. Let’s get this straight, according to the legend it was five moons—” In Klatch they take their mythology seriously. It’s only real life they don’t believe.

W formie człowieka jest coś elastycznego. Im silniej odrzuca ją od siebie, tym szybciej powraca. I podobnie jak z gumą, najgorsze jest samo uderzenie. Kolczaste żelazne kule, miecze i wielkie ciężkie kije nabijane gwoździami uważa się powszechnie za przerażające narzędzia walki. Są jednak niczym w porównaniu z dwudziestoma latami, przyłożonymi nagle ze sporą siłą do potylicy.

sHe half-turned, and felt the familiar and very uncomfortable prickly feeling of Time slowing down around him. Death paused in the act of running a whetstone along the edge of his scythe and gave him a nod of acknowledgment, as between one professional and another. He put his bony digit to his lips, or rather, to the place where his lips would have been if he'd had lips. All wizards can see Death, but they don't necessarily want to.

All-out. Thaumaturgical. War. And there were of course no alliances, no sides, no deals, no mercy, no cease. The skies twisted, the seas boiled. The scream and whizz of fireballs turned the night into day, but that was all right because the ensuing clouds of black smoke turned the day into night. The landscape rose and fell like a honeymoon duvet, and the very fabric of space itself was tied in multidimensional knots and bashed on a flat stone down by the river of Time.

The astro-philosophers of Krull once succeeded in proving conclusively that all places are one place and that the distance between them is an illusion, and this news was an embarrassment to all thinking philosophers because it did not explain, among other things, signposts. After years of wrangling the whole thing was then turned over to Ly Tin Wheedle, arguably the Disc’s greatest philosopher* who after some thought proclaimed that although it was indeed true that all places were one place, that place was very large.

Obecny patrycjusz (…) był chudy, wysoki i z pozoru tak zimnokrwisty jak martwy pingwin. Raz spojrzawszy na niego można było zgadnąć, że powinien trzymać na kolanach białego kota i głaskać go obojętnie, jednocześnie skazując ludzi na śmierć w zbiorniku z piraniami; można było się założyć - o sporo - że kolekcjonuje rzadką porcelanę i obraca ją w swych sinobladych palcach, gdy z głębi lochów dochodzą echa dalekich krzyków. Można by go podejrzewać, że używa słowa “wyśmienicie” i ma wąskie wargi. Wyglądał na człowieka, którego mrugnięcia zaznacza się w kalendarzu.

W wielowymiarowych światach multiversum jest faktem powszechnie znanym i uznanym, że duża część na prawdę wielkich odkryć zawdzięcza swe istnienie jednej krótkiej chwili natchnienia. Oczywiście, poprzedza ją ciężka praca, ale tym, co domyka teorię jest widok - powiedzmy - spadającego jabłka, parującego garnka czy wody przelewającej się przez brzeg wanny. Coś zaskakuje w głowie obserwatora i wszystko układa się po kolei. (…) Zjawisko to uważa się za niezwykle cudowne. To nieprawda. Jest tragiczne. Maleńkie cząstki natchnienia wciąż pędzą przez wszechświat, przebijając najgęstszą materię, jak neutrino przebija stóg cukrowej waty. I większość z nich chybia. Co gorsza, że większość z tych, które trafiają w mózgowy cel, trafia w niewłaściwy. (…) Liczne cywilizacje dostrzegały to wstrząsające marnotrawstwo i rozmaitymi sposobami usiłowały mu zapobiec. Większość tych metod polegała na przyjemnych, choć nielegalnych próbach dostrojenia umysłu do odpowiedniej długości fal, z wykorzystaniem egzotycznych ziół albo produktów fermentacji drożdży. To nigdy nie jest skuteczne.