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Discworld - Wikiquote. Discworld is a comic fantasy book series by British author Terry Pratchett set on the Discworld, a flat world balanced on the backs of four elephants which are in turn standing on the back of a giant turtle, the Great A'Tuin. The stories are arranged in several different story arcs that are further explained in the Wikipedia article on the Discworld reading order.
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This article also shows quotes of the video game adaptations of the series. He'd be the sort to stand on a hilltop in a thunderstorm wearing wet copper armour and shouting 'All gods are bastards'..
We've strayed into a zone with a high magical index.. I've seen excitement, and I've seen boredom.
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And boredom was best. If complete and utter chaos was lightning, then he'd be the sort to stand on a hilltop in a thunderstorm wearing wet copper armour and shouting 'All gods are bastards'.
What he didn't like about heroes was that they were usually suicidally gloomy when sober and homicidally insane when drunk. The Watch were always careful not to intervene too soon in any brawl where the odds were not heavily stacked in their favour. The job carried a pension, and attracted a cautious, thoughtful kind of man."It could be worse," he said by way of farewell. It could be me."That's what's so stupid about the whole magic thing, you know.
You spend twenty years learning the spell that makes nude virgins appear in your bedroom, and then you're so poisoned by quicksilver fumes and half- blind from reading old grimoires that you can't remember what happens next. At the back of his mind a bad feeling began to grow. He thought about how it might be to be, say, a fox confronted with an angry sheep. A sheep, moreover, that could afford to employ wolves. Picturesque meant - he decided after careful observation of the scenery that inspired Twoflower to use the word - that the landscape was horribly precipitous. Quaint, when used to describe the occasional village through which they passed, meant fever- ridden and tumbledown. Twoflower was a tourist, the first ever seen on the Discworld.
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Tourist, Rincewind had decided, meant 'idiot'. 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 round to atheists' houses and smashing their windows.'You know, I never imagined there were he- dryads. Not even in an oak tree.'One of the giants grinned at him. Druellae snorted. Stupid! Where do you think acorns come from?'What heroes like best is themselves.'We've strayed into a zone with a high magical index,' he said. Don't ask me how. Once upon a time a really powerful magic field must have been generated here, and we're feeling the after- effects.''Precisely,' said a passing bush.
The only reason for walking into the jaws of Death is so's you can steal his gold teeth.'It is forbidden to fight on the Killing Ground,' he said, and paused while he considered the sense of this. You know what I mean, anyway..'Ripples of paradox spread out across the sea of causality. He wondered what kind of life it would be, having to keep swimming all the time to stay exactly in the same place.
Pretty similar to his own, he decided. 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.
It was octarine, the colour of magic. It was alive and glowing and vibrant and it was the undisputed pigment of the imagination, because wherever it appeared it was a sign that mere matter was a servant of the powers of the magical mind. It was enchantment itself. But Rincewind always thought it looked a sort of greenish- purple.
I've seen excitement, and I've seen boredom. And boredom was best.'What's this wine — crushed octopus eyeballs?''Sea grape,' said the old man.'Great,' said Rincewind, and swallowed a glassful. Not bad. A bit salty, maybe.''Sea grape is a kind of small jellyfish,' explained the stranger. Why has your friend gone that strange colour?''Culture shock, I imagine,' said Twoflower.'We don't have gods where I come from,' said Twoflower.'You do, you know,' said the Lady. Everyone has gods. You just don't think they're gods.''[..] on the disc, the Gods are not so much worshipped as blamed.'Don’t ask me how I knew—I suppose it was because it was just about the worst possible thing that was likely to happen. I can’t be talking to a tree.
If I was talking to a tree I’d be mad, and I’m not mad, so trees can’t talk. A Thaum is the basic unit of magical strength. It has been universally established as the amount of magic needed to create one small white pigeon or three normal- sized billiard balls.
Pratchett here draws upon the Greek thauma or "marvel" in creating the name of this basic unit. The sun rose slowly, as if it wasn't sure it was worth all the effort.
The disc, being flat, has no real horizon. Any adventurous sailor who got funny ideas from staring at eggs and oranges for too long and set out for the antipodes soon learned that the reason why distant ships sometimes looked as though they were disappearing over the edge of the world was that they were disappearing over the edge of the world.“I suppose you wouldn’t happen to know the way out of the forest, possibly, by any chance?”“No. I don’t get about much,” said the tree.“Fairly boring life, I imagine,” said Rincewind.“I wouldn’t know. I’ve never been anything else,” said the tree. Rincewind looked at it closely. It seemed pretty much like every other tree he’d seen.“Are you magical?” he said.“No one’s ever said,” said the tree, “I suppose so.”Rincewind thought: I can’t be talking to a tree.
If I was talking to a tree I’d be mad, and I’m not mad, so trees can’t talk.“Goodbye,” he said firmly.“Hey, don’t go,” the tree began, and then realized the hopelessness of it all. It watched him stagger off through the bushes, and settled down to feeling the sun on its leaves, the slurp and gurgle of the water in its roots, and the very ebb and flow of its sap in response to the natural tug of the sun and moon. Boring, it thought. What a strange thing to say.
Trees can be bored, of course, beetles do it all the time, but I don’t think that was what he was trying to mean. And: can you actually be anything else? Watch Journey 2: The Mysterious Island Online Facebook.