Aliens Don't Get Stuck In Air Ducts.

All Holy Piety In Public, And All Peeled Grapes And Self-indulgence In Private.

Hat = Wizard, Wizard = Hat. Everything Else Is Frippery.

There Was This About Vampires : They Could Never Look Scruffy. Instead, They Were... What Was The Word... Deshabille. It Meant Untidy, But With Bags And Bags Of Style.

But The Purpose Of The Book Is Not The Horror, It Is Horror's Defeat.

Little Fussy Otto, In His Red-lined Black Opera Cloak With Pockets For All His Gear, His Shiny Black Shoes, His Carefully Cut Widow's Peak And, Not Least, His Ridiculous Accent That Grew Thicker Or Thinner Depending On Who He Was Talking To, Did Not Look Like A Threat. He Looked Funny, A Joke, A Music-hall Vampire. It Had Never Previously Occurred To Vimes That, Just Possibly, The Joke Was On Other People.