Your Own Brain Ought To Have The

He Found That He Had This Sudden Desperate Longing For The Fuming, Smoky Streets Of Ankh-morpork, Which Was Always At Its Best In The Spring, When The Gummy Sheen On The Turbid Waters Of The Ankh River Had A Special Iridescence And The Eaves Were Full Of Birdsong, Or At Least Birds Coughing Rhythmically

It Was Raining In The Small, Mountainous Country Of Llamedos. It Was Always Raining In Llamedos. Rain Was The Country's Main Export. It Had Rain Mines.

Things That Try To Look Like Things Often Do Look More Like Things Than Things.

I'm Fairy Godmothering A Girl Who Sounds Like Something You Put Up In The Rain.

I Would Advise Budding Writers Some Other Kind Of Job, Unless They Think They're Very, Very Lucky.