September 4th
 …said Mrs Vitoller, who was travelling inside the latty and darning the chain mail. 
— Terry Pratchett (Wyrd Sisters)
20140904 @ 1800
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 '…You wouldn’t know what an heir was, unless you thought it was a sort of rabbit.’ 
— Terry Pratchett (Wyrd Sisters)
20140904 @ 1200
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 No, things like crowns had a troublesome effect on clever folk; it was best to leave all the reigning to the kind of people whose eyebrows met in the middle when they tried to think. In a funny sort of way, they were much better at it. 
— Terry Pratchett (Wyrd Sisters)
20140904 @ 0600
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September 3rd
 After a few minutes Granny’s front door opened. This was an event in its own right; like most Ramtoppers Granny lived her life via the back door. There were only three times in your life when it was proper to come through the front door, and you were carried every time. 
— Terry Pratchett (Wyrd Sisters)
20140903 @ 1800
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‘You wouldn’t mind banishing me, would you?’ said the demon, when no-one seemed to be taking the hint.

‘What?’ said Granny, who was thinking again.

‘Only I’d feel better for being properly banished. “Run along” lacks that certain something,’ said the head.

 
— Terry Pratchett (Wyrd Sisters)
20140903 @ 1200
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 ‘Hold on, hold on,’ said Granny. Her lips moved soundlessly. Demons were like genies or philosophy professors – if you didn’t word things exactly right, they delighted in giving you absolutely accurate and completely misleading answers. 
— Terry Pratchett (Wyrd Sisters)
20140903 @ 0600
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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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