I Stroll Along, Talk, I Sign Books,

And The People Next Door Oppress Me All Night Long. I Tell Them, I Work All Day, A Man's Got To Have Some Time To Learn To Play The Tuba. That's Oppression, That Is. If I'm Not Under The Heel Of The Oppressor, I Don't Know Who Is.

I Know It's A Very Human Thing To Say 'is There Anything I Can Do', But In This Case I Would Only Entertain Offers From Very High-end Experts In Brain Chemistry.

Granny Weatherwax, Who Had Walked Nightly Without Fear In The Bandit-haunted Forests Of The Mountains All Her Life In The Certain Knowledge That The Darkness Held Nothing More Terrible Than She Was.

It's Still Magic Even If You Know How It's Done.

The Trouble Was That He Was Talking In Philosophy But They Were Listening In Gibberish.