Through the fathomless deeps of space swims the star turtle Great A-Tuin, bearing on its back the four giant elephants who carry on their shoulders the mass of the Discworld. A tiny sun and moon spin around them, on a complicated orbit to induce seasons, so probably nowhere else in the multiverse is it sometimes necessary for an elephant to cock a leg to allow the sun to go past.

***

The duke often mused on his good luck in marrying her. If it wasn't for the engine of her ambition he'd be just another local lord, with nothing much to do but hunt, drink, and exercise his droit de seigneur.
[Footnote: Whatever that was. He'd never found anyone prepared to explain it to him.But it was definitely something a feudal lord ought to have and, he was pretty sure, it needed regular exercise. He imagined it was some kind of large hairy dog. he was definitely going to get one, and damn well exercise it.]

***

It was a rich and wonderful voice, with every diphthong gliding beautifully into place. It was a golden brown voice. If the Creator of the multiverse had a voice, it was a voice such as this. If it had a drawback, it was that it wasn't a voice you could use, for example, for ordering coal. Coal ordered by this voice would become diamonds.

***

"What're we going to give him, then?" said Nanny.
"We was just discussing it," said Granny.
"I know what he'll want," said Nanny. She made a suggestion, which was received in frozen silence.
"I don't see what use that would be," said Magrat, eventually. "Wouldn't it be rather uncomfortable?"
"He'll thank us when he grows up, you mark my words," said Nanny.

***

...hand. He'd scrubbed and scrubbed, but it seemed to have no effect. Eventually he'd gone down to the dungeons and borrowed one of the torturer's wire brushes, and scrubbed and scrubbed with that, too. That had no effect, either. It made it worse. The harder he scrubbed, the more blood there was. He was afraid he might go mad.

***

Every morning [Magrat's] hair was long, thick, and blond, but by the evening it had always returned to its normal worried frizz. To ameliorate the effect she had tried to plait violets and cowslips in it. The result was not all she had hoped. It gave the impression that a window box had fallen on her head.

***

Felmet: "Is this a dagger I see before me?"
Fool: "Um. No, my lord. It's my handkerchief, you see. You can sort of tell the difference if you look closely. It doesn't have as many sharp edges."

***

The door swung open. The dutchess filled the doorway. In fact, she was nearly the same shape.

***

The duke had a mind that ticked like a clock and, like a clock, it regularly went cuckoo.

***

The singing wasn't particularly good. The only word the singer appeared to know was "la," but she was making it work hard.

***

Nanny Ogg: "[Magrat] doesn't seem to be her normal self."
Granny Weatherwax: "Yes. Could be an improvement."

***

First, she had to find out his name. The old peel-the-apple trick should do that. You just peeled an apple, getting one length of peel, and threw the peel behind you; it'd land in the shape of his name. Millions of girls had tried it and had inevitably been disappointed, unless the loved one was called Scscs.

***

Greebo was one of [Nanny Ogg's] blind spots.While intellectually she would concede that he was indeed a fat, cunning, evil-smelling multiple rapist, she nevertheless instinctively pictured him as the small fluffy kitten he had been decades before. The fact that he had once chased a female wolf up a tree and seriously surprised a she-bear who had been innocently digging for roots didn't stop her worrying that something bad might happen to him.

***

Magrat looked up guiltily. She had been deep in conversation with the Fool, although it was the kind of conversation where both parties spend a lot of time looking at their feet and picking at their fingernails. Ninety per cent of true love is acute, ear-burning embarassment.

***

"Who's a good boy, den?" said the Fool. "Wowsa wowsa whoosh."
This intrigued Greebo. The only other person who had ever spoken to him like this was Nanny Ogg; everyone else addressed him as "Yarrgeroffoutofityahbarstard."

***

Fool: "Rain, yes, hail, yes, even lumps of rock. Fish and small frogs, okay. Women, no, up till now. Is it going to happen again?"
Magrat: "You've got a bloody hard head."
Fool: "Modesty forbids me to comment"

***

All the Disc it is but an Theater, ane alle men and wymmen are but Players. Except Those who selle popcorn.

***

The calender of the Theocracy of Muntab counts down, not up. No-one knows why, but it might not be a good idea to hang around and find out.

***

"Actors," said Granny, witheringly. "As if the world weren't full of enough history without inventing more."

***

Magrat knew she had lost. You always lose against Granny Weatherwax, the only interest was in seeing exactly how.

***