Terry Pratchett

A popular spell at the time was Pelepel's Temporal Compressor, which on one occasion resulted in a race of giant reptiles being created, evolving, spreading, flourishing and then being destroyed in the space of about five minutes, leaving only its bones in the earth to mislead forthcoming generations completely.

He had the unique opportunity to watch Conina fight. Not many men ever got to see it twice.

Wizards don't like philosophy very much. As far as they are concerned, one hand clapping makes a sound like 'cl'.

"You like it?" he said to Mort, in pretty much the same tone of voice people used when they said to St George, "You killed a what?"

Albert grunted. "Do you know what happens to lads who ask too many questions?"

(That was a cinematic trick adapted for print. Death wasn't talking to the princess. He was actually in his study, talking to Mort. But it was quite effective, wasn't it? It's probably called a fast dissolve, or a crosscut/zoom. Or something. An industry where the senior technician is called a Best Boy might call it anything.)

"My granny says that dying is like going to sleep," Mort added, a shade hopefully.

You know, people just don't see what their mind tells them isn't there.

When you're a god, you don't have to have reasons.

History has a habit of changing the people who think they are changing it. History always has a few tricks up its frayed sleeve. It's been around a long time.

"You're dead," he said.

Go away, Mort thought. His subconscious was worrying him. It appeared to have a direct line to parts of his body that he wanted to ignore at the moment.