Terry Pratchett

A few stars had been let out early. Teppic looked up at them. Perhaps, he thought, there is life somewhere else. On the stars, maybe. If it's true that there are billions of universes stacked alongside one another, the thickness of a thought apart, then there must be people elsewhere.

No one knows the reason for all this, but it is probably quantum. (p. 3)

When you die, the first thing you lose is your life. The next thing is your illusions. (p. 58)

The important thing is not how many people you inhume, it's how many fail to inhume you. (pp. 20-21)

All assassins had a full-length mirror in their rooms, because it would be a terrible insult to anyone to kill them when you were badly dressed. (p. 5)

The culture of the river kingdom had a lot to say about death and what happened afterward. In fact it had very little to say about life, regarding it as a sort of inconvenient prelude to the main event and something to be hurried through as politely as possible. (p. 56)

You scrimped and saved to send them to the best schools, and then they went and paid you back by getting educated. (p. 100)

"Are you all right, O jeweled master of the sun?" one of them ventured.

Death put down his drink and stepped forward.

Granny stepped forward, her eyes two sapphires of bitterness. "I'm goin' to give you the hidin' our Mam never gave you, Lily Weatherwax. Not with magic, not with headology, not with a stick like our Dad had, aye, and he used a fair bit as I recall—but with skin. And not because you was the bad one. Not because you meddled with stories. Everyone has a path they got to tread. But because, and I wants you to understand this prop'ly, after you went I had to be the good one. You had all the fun. An' there's no way I can make you pay for that, Lily, but I'm surely goin' to give it a try..."

You can't go around building a better world for people. Only people can build a better world for people. Otherwise it's just a cage. (p. 305)

Magrat plunged on with the brave desperation of someone dancing in the light of their burning bridges. (p. 161)