Rincewind Had Always Been Happy To Think

Whole New Theories Of Money Were Growing Here Like Mushrooms: In The Dark And Based On Bullshit.

No One's Policing Their Own Minds More Than An Author. You Spend A Lot Of Time In Your Own Head Analysing What You Think About Things, And A Philosophy Comes.

A European Says: I Can't Understand This, What's Wrong With Me? An American Says: I Can't Understand This, What's Wrong With Him? I Make No Suggestion That One Side Or Other Is Right, But Observation Over Many Years Leads Me To Believe It Is True.

He'd Always Known That The World Was An Interesting Place, And His Imagination Had Peopled It With Pirates And Bandits And Spies And Astronauts And Similar. But He'd Also Had A Nagging Suspicion That, When You Seriously Got Right Down To It, They Were All Just Things In Books And Didn't Properly Exist Anymore.

All Holy Piety In Public, And All Peeled Grapes And Self-indulgence In Private.