You Can't Kill Me, I've

Magicians And Scientists Are, On The Face Of It, Poles Apart. Certainly, A Group Of People Who Often Dress Strangely, Live In A World Of Their Own, Speak A Specialized Language And Frequently Make Statements That Appear To Be In Flagrant Breach Of Common Sense Have Nothing In Common With A Group Of People Who Often Dress Strangely, Speak A Specialized Language, Live In ... Er.

Sergeant Colon Of The Ankh-morpork City Guard Was On Duty. He Was Guarding The Brass Bridge, The Main Link Between Ankh And Morpork. From Theft. When It Came To Crime Prevention, Sergeant Colon Found It Safest To Think Big.

I Mean, You're Right About The Fire And War, All That. But That Rapture Stuff--well, If You Could See Them All In Heaven--serried Ranks Of Them As Far As The Mind Can Follow And Beyond, League After League Of Us, Flaming Swords, All That, Well, What I'm Trying To Say Is Who Has Time To Go Round Picking People Out And Popping Them Up In The Air To Sneer At The People Dying Of Radiation Sickness On The Parched And Burning Earth Below Them? If That's Your Idea Of A Morally Acceptable Time, I Might Add.

This Book Had Two Authors, And They Were Both The Same Person.

Never Build A Dungeon You Wouldn't Be Happy To Spend The Night In Yourself. The World Would Be A Happier Place If More People Remembered That.