Monsters are getting more uppity, too (…) I heard where this guy, he killed this monster in this lake, no problem, stuck its arm up over the door (…) and you know what? Its mum come and complained. Its actual mum come right down to the hall next day and complained. Actually complained. That’s the respect you get.
Because I want to have sex with him–and because that’s sinful–I’m blushing and flushing furiously under his scrutinizing scrutiny.
How much truth is contained in something can be best determined by making it thoroughly laughable and then watching to see how much joking around it can take. For truth is a matter that can withstand mockery, that is freshened by any ironic gesture directed at it. Whatever cannot withstand satire is false.
If smart people are parodying it, that’s a sure sign that some less smart people are believing it.
Two buttons had come adrift on her shirt, meaning she was showing more cleavage than was normal for an officer of the law. I don’t know if she had children, or planned to, but they would never starve.
Mission motto, sir,” said Carrot cheerfully. “Morituri Nolumus Mori. Rincewind suggested it.”
“I imagine he did,” said Lord Vetinari, observing the wizard coldly. “And would you care to give us a colloquial translation, Mr Rincewind?”
“Er…” Rincewind hesitated, but there really was no escape. “Er… roughly speaking, it means, ‘We who are about to die don’t want to’, sir.
I learned that it’s okay to feel the way I do: that my life has no meaning unless I have a boyfriend. A real man is like the perfect vampire-boy and all the perfect guys in Twue Wuv.
Satire is a lesson, parody is a game.
…heaven wouldn’t be like this earth, this tormented earth ruled by evil forces that tossed humanity to and fro like a slow clown in a two-bit rodeo.