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Memorize these two questions so you will not be tempted to answer any others: Who are you? What are you doing right here, right now? If you are ever approached by a police officer with those two questions, and your God-given common sense tells you that the officer is being reasonable in asking for an explanation, don’t be a jerk.

— You have the right to remain innocent by James J. Duane

“There are ten overnights off the clacks, my lord,” he said. “It’s good to have it back in operation.” “Indeed, yes,” said Vetinari, not looking up. “Otherwise how in the world would people be able to find out what we want them to think?

— Going Postal by Terry Pratchett

in my experience, the best way to get something done is to give it to someone who is busy,”

— Going Postal by Terry Pratchett

“It’s a disguise,” said Alex. “A big horned helmet?” “Yes. It makes me so noticeable that no one will suspect I’m trying not to be noticed, so they won’t bother to notice me.”

— Going Postal by Terry Pratchett

whatever curse hung around the stones of the old tower surely couldn’t affect minds like theirs, because they were inoculated against madness by being a little bit crazy all the time.

— Going Postal by Terry Pratchett

It was a little like stealing. It was exactly like stealing. It was, in fact, stealing. But there was no law against it, because no one knew the crime existed, so is it really stealing if what’s stolen isn’t missed? And is it stealing if you’re stealing from thieves? Anyway, all property is theft, except mine.

— Going Postal by Terry Pratchett

You know how to pray, don’t you? You just put your hands together—and hope.”

— Going Postal by Terry Pratchett

“You challenged the Grand Trunk! You mean you just talked big and hoped something would turn up?” said Miss Dearheart. “It’s always worked before! Where’s the sense in promising to achieve the achievable? What kind of success would that be?” said Moist.

— Going Postal by Terry Pratchett

ALWAYS REMEMBER that the crowd that applauds your coronation is the same crowd that will applaud your beheading. People like a show.

— Going Postal by Terry Pratchett

to sound just like the word “pal” in the mouth of a man in an alley who was offering cosmetic surgery with a broken bottle in exchange for not being given any money.

— Going Postal by Terry Pratchett

It couldn’t happen. It shouldn’t happen. But, you never knew…this time it might. Moist recognized that hope. It was how he’d made his living. You knew that the man running the Find the Lady game was going to win, you knew that people in distress didn’t sell diamond rings for a fraction of their value, you knew that life generally handed you the sticky end of the stick, and you knew that the gods didn’t pick some everyday undeserving tit out of the population and hand them a fortune. Except that, this time, you might be wrong, right? It might just happen, yes? And this was known as that greatest of treasures, which is Hope. It was a good way of getting poorer really very quickly, and staying poor. It could be you. But it wouldn’t be.

— Going Postal by Terry Pratchett

“Are you a theologian, sir?” he said. “I’m in…a similar line of work,” said Moist.

— Going Postal by Terry Pratchett

ATTITUDE WAS EVERYTHING. Moist had studied attitude. Some of the old nobility had it. It was the total lack of any doubt that things would go the way they expected them to go.

— Going Postal by Terry Pratchett

“Well, you’ve managed to get a table at Le Foie Heureux at a few hours’ notice,” she conceded, as a knife struck a beam behind her. “Are you still going to lie if I ask you how?” “Yes, I think so.” “Good. Shall we go?”

— Going Postal by Terry Pratchett