Tʜᴇʀᴇ's ɴᴏ ᴊᴜsᴛɪᴄᴇ, ᴛʜᴇʀᴇ's ᴊᴜsᴛ ᴍᴇ. —death

The Universe Danced Towards Life. Life Was A Remarkably Common Commodity. Anything Sufficiently Complicated Seemed To Get Cut In For Some, In The Same Way That Anything Massive Enough Got A Generous Helping Of Gravity. The Universe Had A Definite Tendency Towards Awareness. This Suggested A Certain Subtle Cruelty Woven Into The Very Fabric Of Space-time.

It Was Sad, Like Those Businessmen Who Came To Work In Serious Clothes But Wore Colorful Ties In A Mad, Desperate Attempt To Show There Was A Free Spirit In There Somewhere.

Vimes Had Got Around To A Clean Desk Policy. It Was A Clean Floor Strategy That Eluded Him At The Moment.

No One Thinks That Young Adults Read Hooks For Young Adults, Books For Young Adults Are Read By Kids.

If You Had Enough Money, You Could Hardly Commit Crimes At All. You Just Perpetrated Amusing Little Peccadilloes.