The Fastest Way To Travel Is To

It Is At This Point That Normal Language Gives Up, And Goes And Has A Drink.

I [...] Vowed That Rather Than Let Alzheimer's Take Me, I Would Take It. I Would Live My Life As Ever To The Full And Die, ­before The Disease Mounted Its Last ­attack, In My Own Home, In A Chair On The Lawn, With A Brandy In My Hand To Wash Down Whatever Modern ­version Of The "brompton Cocktail" Some ­helpful Medic Could Supply. And With ­thomas Tallis On My Ipod, I Would Shake Hands With Death.

It Was Octarine, The Colour Of Magic. It Was Alive And Glowing And Vibrant And It Was The Undisputed Pigment Of The Imagination, Because Wherever It Appeared It Was A Sign That Mere Matter Was A Servant Of The Powers Of The Magical Mind. It Was Enchantment Itself. But Rincewind Always Thought It Looked A Sort Of Greenish-purple.

I Have No Use For People Who Have Learned The Limits Of The Possible.

Truth! Freedom! Justice! And A Hard-boiled Egg!