Living this long's not as wonderful as people think. I mean, you get the same amount of youth as everyone else, but a great big extra helping of being very old and deaf and creaky.
Typical artist,' said Granny. 'He just painted the showy stuff in the front... And what about these cherubs? We're not going to get them too, are we? I don't like to see little babies flying through the air.' 'They turn up in a lot of old paintings,'...
And he read all morning, but just to make it interesting, he put lots of dragons in it.
Your own brain ought to have the decency to be on your side!
This I choose to do. If there is a price, this I choose to pay. If it is my death, then I choose to die. Where this takes me, there I choose to go. I choose. This I choose to do.
That's Third Thoughts for you. When a huge rock is going to land on your head, they're the thoughts that think: Is that an igneous rock, such as granite, or is it sandstone?
I dinna want to disappoint ye, but we's in a cellar right here, and it's full o' tatties.' After a while a voice said: 'So where izzit?' 'Maybe it's got the day off?' 'What's a demon need a day off for?' 'Tae gae an' see its ol' mam an' dad, mebbe?' ...
A witch ought never to be frightened in the darkest forest, Granny Weatherwax had once told her, because she should be sure in her soul that the most terrifying thing in the forest was her.
Gossiping's part of witchcraft,' said Tiffany. 'They're checking to see if they've gone batty yet.
The trouble is you can shut your eyes but you can’t shut your mind.
And, as always happens, and happens far too soon, the strange and wonderful becomes a memory and a memory becomes a dream. Tomorrow it's gone.
Tiffany got up early and lit the fires. When her mother came down, she was scrubbing the kitchen floor, very hard. “Er…aren’t you supposed to do that sort of thing by magic, dear?” said her mother, who’d never really got the hang of what wi...
But can’t you just wave your hand and make all the dirt fly away, then?" [...] "That works, but only if you wave them about on the floor with a scrubbing brush.
I’m not superstitious. I’m a witch. Witches aren’t superstitious. We are what people are superstitious of.
Rob turned the rustling pages and grinned. 'Ach, she's writ here: "Oh, the dear Feegles ha' turned up again,"' he said. This met with general applause. 'Ach, what a kind girl she is tae write that,' said Billy Bigchin. 'Can I see?' He read: "Oh dear,...
Yes, she'd made a mistake... but she wasn't going to be bullied. You couldn't let boys go around raining on your lava and ogling other people's watercolors.
To animals they were just the weather, just part of everything. But humans arose and gave them names, just as people filled the starry sky with heroes and monsters, because this turned them into stories. And humans loved stories, because once you'd t...
