Because that was the point, wasn’t it? You had to choose. You might be right, you might be wrong but you had to choose, knowing that the rightness or wrongness might never be clear or even that you were deciding between 2 sorts of wrong, that there was no right anywhere. And always, always, you did it by yourself. (Carpe Jugulum)

It was hard to be a vegetarian who had to pick bits of meat out of her teeth in the morning. She was definitely on top of it, though. Definitely, she reassured herself. It was Angua’s mind that prowled the night, not a werewolf mind. She was almost entirely sure of that. A werewolf wouldn’t stop at chickens, not by a long way. She shuddered. Who was she kidding? It was easy to be a vegetarian by day, It was preventing yourself becoming a humanitarian at night that took the real effort.

Granny disapproved of magic for domestic purposes, but she was annoyed. She also wanted her tea. She threw a couple of logs into the fireplace and glared at them until they burst into flame out of sheer embarrassment.

Often there is no more than a little plaque to reveal that, against all gynaecological probability, someone very famous was born halfway up a wall.

They avoided one another’s faces, for fear of what they might see mirrored there. Each man thought: one of the others is bound to say something soon, some protest, and then I’ll murmur agreement, not actually say anything, I’m not as stupid as that, but definitely murmur very firmly, so that the others will be in no doubt that I thoroughly disapprove, because at a time like this it behooves all decent men to nearly stand up and be almost heard… But no one said anything. The cowards, each man thought.

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