Oh, Where Are My Manners? Do Sit

But The Helmet Had Gold Decoration, And The Bespoke Armorers Had Made A New Gleaming Breastplate With Useless Gold Ornamentation On It. Sam Vimes Felt Like A Class Traitor Every Time He Wore It. He Hated Being Thought Of As One Of Those People That Wore Stupid Ornamental Armor. It Was Gilt By Association.

When Millions Of Tons Of Angry Elephant Come Spinning Through The Sky, And There Was No One There To Hear It, Does It - Philosopically Speaking - Make A Noise

I Think What Drove Me Away From Being A Reporter Was An Inability To Accept That The World Came In Neat Stories. Every Story You Have To Report Is Just Part Of Something Bigger. The News Isn't What Happened Last Night - It's Some Cumulative Thing That's Happened Over Centuries. I Found It Hard To Think Of One Event And Drag It Out Of A Bubbling Pot And Present It As The Story That Explains It All.

And Gears," Said Anathema. "my Bike Didn't Have Gears. I'm Sure My Bike Didn't Have Gears." Crowley Leaned Over To The Angel. "oh Lord, Heal This Bike," He Whispered Sarcastically. "i'm Sorry, I Just Got Carried Away," Hissed Aziraphale.

But That Was Just It - Hate Was Exactly The Right Word. Hate Is A Force Of Attraction. Hate Is Just Love With Its Back Turned.