We Are Monkeys. We Like To Chatter.

The Monks Of Cool, Whose Tiny And Exclusive Monastery Is Hidden In A Really Cool And Laid-back Valley In The Lower Ramtops, Have A Passing-out Test For A Novice. He Is Taken Into A Room Full Of All Types Of Clothing And Asked: Yo, My Son, Which Of These Is The Most Stylish Thing To Wear? And The Correct Answer Is: Hey, Whatever I Select.

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.

And These Are Your Reasons, My Lord?" "do You Think I Have Others?" Said Lord Vetinari. "my Motives, As Ever, Are Entirely Transparent." Hughnon Reflected That 'entirely Transparent' Meant Either That You Could See Right Through Them Or That You Couldn't See Them At All.

You Can’t Say ‘if This Didn’t Happen Then That Would Have Happened’ Because You Don’t Know Everything That Might Have Happened. You Might Think Something’d Be Good, But For All You Know It Could Have Turned Out Horrible. You Can’t Say ‘if Only I’d…’ Because You Could Be Wishing For Anything. The Point Is, You’ll Never Know. You’ve Gone Past. So There’s No Use Thinking About It.

Building A Temple Didn't Mean You Believed In Gods, It Just Meant You Believed In Architecture.