Status Updates From Carpe Jugulum (Les Annales ...

A coffin lid smacked down on Igor's head, making an oddly metallic sound. He reached up slowly to rub the spot, and then turned around. This time the lid smacked into his face.

"Oh... thit," he said, and folded up. Oats appeared, face aglow with adrenaline and righteousness.

"I smote him mightily!"

On the other hand, he thought, as he packed up and prepared to move on, books that were all about the world tended to be written by people who knew all about books rather than all about the world

"Why did you come to visit Granny Weatherwax?"

"Well, everyone speaks very .. highly of her," said Oats, sud-denly picking his words like a man pulling plums from a boiling pot.

the kind of man who goes for long walks in the morning and spends the afternoons improving his mind in his own private library or doing small interesting experiments on parsnips and never, ever, worrying about money. There was something glossy about him, and also a sort of urgent, hungry enthusiasm, the kind you get when someone has just read a really interesting book and is determined to tell someone all about it

The reward for toil had been more toil. If you dug the best ditches, they gave you a bigger shovel.

And you got these bare walls, this bare floor, this cold cottage. The darkness in the corners grew out into the room and began to tangle in her hair.

They didn't ask her!

She'd never, ever asked for anything in return. And the trouble with not asking for anything in return was that sometimes you didn't get it.