September 2nd
 The water under the lid was inky black and, according to rumour, bottomless; the Ogg grandchildren were encouraged to believe that monsters from the dawn of time dwelt in its depths, since Nanny believed that a bit of thrilling and pointless terror was an essential ingredient of the magic of childhood. 
— Terry Pratchett (Wyrd Sisters)
20140902 @ 1800
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 ‘I really don’t think—’ the Fool began. Lady Felmet’s glare didn’t merely silence him, it almost nailed him to the wall. 
— Terry Pratchett (Wyrd Sisters)
20140902 @ 1200
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 The duke had a mind that ticked like a clock and, like a clock, it regularly went cuckoo. 
— Terry Pratchett (Wyrd Sisters)
20140902 @ 0600
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September 1st
 

‘Are you arguing with me?’

‘No, my lord!’

‘I thought so. You’re in league with them, I suppose?’

‘My lord!’ said the Fool, really shocked.

‘You’re all in league, you people!’ the duke snarled. ‘The whole bunch of you! You’re nothing but a pack of ringleaders!’

 
— Terry Pratchett (Wyrd Sisters)
20140901 @ 1800
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 The Fool was trembling with fear in perfect anti-phase to the castle, so that he was the only thing that now appeared to be standing perfectly still. 
— Terry Pratchett (Wyrd Sisters)
20140901 @ 1200
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 Among the very many luxuries the duke had dispensed with in his life was that of ignorance. He liked to feel he knew what was going on. The glorious uncertainties of existence held no attraction for him. 
— Terry Pratchett (Wyrd Sisters)
20140901 @ 0600
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August 31st
 The vermine is a small black and white furry creature, much famed for its pelt. It is a more careful relative of the lemming; it only throws itself over small pebbles. 
— Terry Pratchett (Wyrd Sisters)
20140831 @ 1800
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 It was a winter of portents. Comets sparkled against the chilled skies at night. Clouds shaped mightily like whales and dragons drifted over the land by day. In the village of Razorback a cat gave birth to a two-headed kitten, but since Greebo, by dint of considerable effort, was every male ancestor for the last thirty generations this probably wasn’t all that portentous. 
— Terry Pratchett (Wyrd Sisters)
20140831 @ 1200
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 Winter in the Ramtops could not honestly be described as a magical frosty wonderland, each twig laced with confections of brittle ice. Winter in the Ramtops didn’t mess about; it was a gateway straight through to the primeval coldness that lived before the creation of the world. Winter in the Ramtops was several yards of snow, the forests a mere collection of shadowy green tunnels under the drifts. Winter meant the coming of the lazy wind, which couldn’t be bothered to blow around people and blew right through them instead. The idea that Winter could actually be enjoyable would never have occurred to Ramtop people, who had eighteen different words for snow. 
— Terry Pratchett (Wyrd Sisters)
20140831 @ 0600
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August 30th
 Enough inspirations to equip a complete history of the performing arts poured continuously into a small heavy skull designed by evolution to do nothing more spectacular than be remarkably resistant to axe blows. 
— Terry Pratchett (Wyrd Sisters)
20140830 @ 1800
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 Particles of raw inspiration sleet through the universe all the time. Every once in a while one of them hits a receptive mind, which then invents DNA or the flute sonata form or a way of making light bulbs wear out in half the time. But most of them miss. Most people go through their lives without being hit by even one. Some people are even more unfortunate. They get them all. 
— Terry Pratchett (Wyrd Sisters)
20140830 @ 1200
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 There was plenty of flat ground in the Ramtops. The problem was that nearly all of it was vertical. 
— Terry Pratchett (Wyrd Sisters)
20140830 @ 0600
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August 29th
 A year went past. The days followed one another patiently. Right back at the beginning of the multiverse they had tried all passing at the same time, and it hadn’t worked. 
— Terry Pratchett (Wyrd Sisters)
20140829 @ 1800
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 Back down on the plains, if you kicked people they kicked back. Up here, when you kicked people they moved away and just waited patiently for your leg to fall off. How could a king go down in history ruling a people like that? You couldn’t oppress them any more than you could oppress a mattress. 
— Terry Pratchett (Wyrd Sisters)
20140829 @ 1200
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 ‘Well, being assassinated is natural causes for a king,’ said Granny. ‘I don’t see why he’s so sheepish about it. When old Thargum was killed they stuck his head on a pole, had a big bonfire and everyone in the palace got drunk for a week.’ 
— Terry Pratchett (Wyrd Sisters)
20140829 @ 0600
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