Bugrit! Bugrit! Millenium Hand And Shrimp!

There will be no more of Corp. C.W. St. J. Nobbs’ petty theivery

nor Havelock Lord Vetinari’s benvolent tyranny (well, except if you’re a street mime, in which case it’s straight to the scorpion pit with you)

No more of C.M.O.T. Dibbler’s sausages will be sold (now half price, and that’s cutting me own throat)

No more shall Granny Weatherwax practice headology to get her way

No more retrophrenology will be performed (which is based on the following logic: if the lumps on your skull can tell you about your personality, then modifying those lumps, with, say, a blunt intrument will modify your personality. Right?)

No more games of Cripple Mr. Onion will be played.

No more evil do’ers will be caught by Sam Vimes.

No more of Nanny Ogg’s off color jokes.

No more accidental prevention of apocoli (apocolypses?) by Rincewind while he is trying to run away.

No more clacks will be sent.

No more of Foul Ol’ Ron’s indeciperable gibberish

Nor his infamous pre-arriving stench

Nor his talking mouth dog’s collection of fleas

No more of Moist Von Lipwig’s cons

No more of Tiffany Aching’s perspicacity. Actually – I lie. His last, unpublished book is supposed to be a T.A. book.

No more will the time monks siphon time from those who have no need of it to direct it where it will do the most good.

No one will ever again forget rule No 1.

No more Ephebian Philosophers

No more will the Djelbi pyramid store time

No more of the phrophet Brutha’s simple ways

No more of his god, the great god Om (presently in the embarrased condition of being trapped as a turtle)

No more rats will be caught by Wee Mad Arthur

No more games of Thud will be played

No longer will the Death of Rats usher his furry flock into the afterlife

No more will the Things from the dungeon dimensions seek entry

No more banannas will be eaten by the Librarian

No more Unseen University

No more victims of Anhk-Morpork’s deadly district, the Shades.

No more drinks will be quaffed at the Mended Drum.

Twoflower will never again go on vacation.

No more customers for Mrs. Palms’ ladies of negotiable affection (AKA the “Seamstress’s Guild”)

No more licenced theivery

The glass clock of Bad Schushein will never be rebuilt

No more will the luggage terrorize

No more quasi-latin phrases, EG “Cuius testiculos habes, habeas cardia et cerebellum.”

No more Igors rendering helpful services

In short, no more Discworld, for Terry Pratchett has died.

I have, I think, probably read more words written by Terry Pratchett than by any other author. Certainly if you count them each time I have read them. The man had the unique ability to satirize not just the genre he was writing in (Fantasy novels,) but also the world at the same time. And somehow, while doing so, wrote some of the best fantasy available. He’s also well know for how he could turn a phrase. Here’s a selection of my favorites:

“It is well known that a vital ingredient of success is not knowing that what you’re attempting can’t be done. A person ignorant of the possibility of failure can be a halfbrick in the path of the bicycle of history.”

“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.”

” The current Patrician … He did of course sometimes have people horribly tortured to death, but this was considered to be perfectly acceptable behaviour for a civic ruler and generally approved of by the overwhelming majority of citizens. †

† The overhelming majority of citizens being defined in this case as everyone not currently hanging upside down over a scorpion pit.”

“Rincewind stared into the frothy remnants of his last beer, and then, with extreme care in case the top of his head fell off, leaned down and poured some into a saucer for the Luggage. It was lurking under the table, which was a relief. It usually embarrassed him in bars by sidling up to drinkers and terrorizing them into feeding it crisps.”

” No one is more worried by the actual physical manifestation of a god than his priests; it’s like having the auditors in unexpectedly.”

“Ptraci didn’t just derail the train of thought, she ripped up the rails, burned the stations and melted the bridges for scrap.”

“The reason that clichés become clichés is that they are the hammers and screwdrivers in the toolbox of communication.”

“There was a thoughtful pause in the conversation as the assembled Brethren mentally divided the universe into the deserving and the undeserving, and put themselves on the appropriate side.”

“‘I believe you find life such a problem because you think there are the good people and the bad people,’ said the man [Vetinari]. ‘You are wrong, of course. There are, always and only, the bad people, but some of them are on opposite sides.’

“Just erotic. Nothing kinky. It’s the difference between using a feather and using a chicken.”

“Interestingly enough, the gods of the Disc have never bothered much about judging the souls of the dead, and so people only go to hell if that’s where they think they deserve to go. Which they won’t do if they don’t know about it. This explains why it is important to shoot missionaries on sight.”

“You can’t go around building a better world for people. Only people can build a better world for people. Otherwise it’s just a cage.”

“Many feel they are called to the priesthood, but what they really hear is an inner voice saying, ‘It’s indoor work with no heavy lifting, do you want to be a ploughman like your father?'”

“The Ephebians believed that every man should have the vote †. Every five years someone was elected to be Tyrant, provided he could prove that he was honest, intelligent, sensible, and trustworthy. Immediately after he was elected, of course, it was obvious to everyone that he was a criminal madman and totally out of touch with the view of ordinary philosopher in the streets looking for a towel. And then five years later they elected another one just like him, and really it was amazing how intelligent people kept on making the same mistakes.

†Provided that he wasn’t poor, foreign, nor disqualified by reason of being mad, frivolous, or a woman”

“That’s why it’s always worth having a few philosophers around the place. One minute it’s all Is Truth Beauty and Is Beauty Truth, and Does A Falling Tree in the Forest Make A Sound if There’s No one There to Hear It, and then just when you think they’re going to start dribbling one of ’em says, Incidentally, putting a thirty-foot parabolic reflector on a high place to shoot the rays of the sun at an enemy’s ships would be a very interesting demonstration of optical principles.”

“Fear is a strange soil. Mainly it grows obedience like corn, which grows in rows and makes weeding easy. But sometimes it grows the potatoes of defiance, which flourish underground.”

“Give a man a fire and he’s warm for a day, but set fire to him and he’s warm for the rest of his life.”

“In the Second Scroll of Wen the Eternally Surprised a story is written concerning one day when the apprentice Clodpool, in a rebellious mood, approached Wen and spake thusly:
“Master, what is the difference between a humanistic, monastic system of belief in which wisdom is sought by means of an apparently nonsensical system of questions and answers, and a lot of mystic gibberish made up on the spur of the moment?”
Wen considered this for some time, and at last said: “A fish!”
And Clodpool went away, satisfied.”

“Then you have The Story of the Emperor Who Had No Clothes.
But if you knew a bit more, it would be The Story of the Boy Who Got a Well-Deserved Thrashing from His Dad for Being Rude to Royalty, and Was Locked Up.”

“Sometimes Tiffany thought she was just a method of moving boots around.”

“Always remember that the crowd that applauds your coronation is the same crowd that will applaud your beheading. People like a show.”

“You had to admire the way perfectly innocent words were mugged, ravished, stripped of all true meaning and decency, and then sent to walk the gutter for Reacher Gilt, although “synergistically” had probably been a whore from the start”

“When I’m old I shall wear midnight, she’d decided. But for now she’d had enough of darkness.”