And Never Resist A Perfect Moment.

By The Time You Write The Last Page You Have Done Half The Book. The Other Half Tends To Get Done In About Five Weeks; I Do Several Drafts, Very, Very Furiously Rewriting. I Literally Do More Or Less Nothing Else And I Stick With It And Go Through It And I Begin To Hate It.

If Anyone Wants One My Advise Is To Go Where The Orthodox Jews Shop, Because When It Comes To A Big Black Fedora, The Guys With Ringlets And Long Black Coats Definitely Know A Stylish Hat When They See One. You Want To Get It Home And Use A Hot Steaming Kettle, And Bob's Your Uncle - You Have A Hat With All The Right Curves!

Little Fussy Otto, In His Red-lined Black Opera Cloak With Pockets For All His Gear, His Shiny Black Shoes, His Carefully Cut Widow's Peak And, Not Least, His Ridiculous Accent That Grew Thicker Or Thinner Depending On Who He Was Talking To, Did Not Look Like A Threat. He Looked Funny, A Joke, A Music-hall Vampire. It Had Never Previously Occurred To Vimes That, Just Possibly, The Joke Was On Other People.

Asking Someone To Repeat A Phrase You'd Not Only Heard Very Clearly But Were Also Exceedingly Angry About Was Around Defcon Ii In The Lexicon Of Squabble.

It Doesn't Stop Being Magic Just Because You Know How It Works.