When All Else Failed, She Tried Being

Progress Just Means Bad Things Happen Faster.

Ridcully Was To Management What King Herod Was To The Bethlehem Playgroup Association.

He'd Been Wrong, There Was A Light At The End Of The Tunnel, And It Was A Flamethrower.

At Some Time In The Recent Past Someone Had Decided To Brighten The Ancient Corridors Of The University By Painting Them, Having Some Vague Notion That Learning Should Be Fun. It Hadn’t Worked. It’s A Fact Known Throughout The Universes That No Matter How Carefully The Colors Are Chosen, Institutional Decor Ends Up As Either Vomit Green, Unmentionable Brown, Nicotine Yellow Or Surgical Appliance Pink. By Some Little-understood Process Of Sympathetic Resonance, Corridors Painted In Those Colors Always Smell Slightly Of Boiled Cabbage—even If No Cabbage Is Ever Cooked In The Vicinity.

In Genua, Someone Set Out To Make Dreams Come True. Remember Some Of Your Dreams?