Discworld's only demonology hacker, Eric, is about to make life very difficult for the rest of Ankh-Morpork's denizens. This would-be Faust is very bad...at his work, that is. All he wants is to fulfill three little wishes:to live forever, to be master of the universe, and to have a stylin'... read more
Eric, a teenage demonologist wannabe attempts to summon a demon into his bedroom and ends up with Rincewind, the incompetent and hapless wizard, instead. He demands that Rincewind grant him three wishes, and somehow, he gets exactly what he asked for, although not exactly what he wanted.
“"Anyway, you shouldn't believe everything you read in the classics," Rincewind added. "They never check their facts. They're just out to sell legends."”Rincewind
“Multiple exclamation marks,” he went on, shaking his head, “are a sure sign of a diseased mind.”Highlighted by 41 Kindle customers
Interestingly enough, the gods of the Disc have never bothered much about judging the souls of the dead, and so people only go to hell if that’s where they believe, in their deepest heart, that they deserve to go. Which they won’t do if they don’t know about it. This explains why it is important to shoot missionaries on sight.Highlighted by 40 Kindle customers
Hell needed horribly bright, self-centered people like Eric. They were much better at being nasty than demons could ever manage.Highlighted by 28 Kindle customers
any wizard bright enough to survive for five minutes was also bright enough to realize that if there was any power in demonology, then it lay with the demons. Using it for your own purposes would be like trying to beat mice to death with a rattlesnake.Highlighted by 28 Kindle customers
The captain glared at him. The sergeant put on the poker face that has been handed down from NCO to NCO ever since one protoamphibian told another, lower-ranking protoamphibian to muster a squad of newts and Take That Beach.Highlighted by 24 Kindle customers
Preeminent among Rincewind’s talents was his skill in running away, which over the years he had elevated to the status of a genuinely pure science; it didn’t matter if you were fleeing from or to, so long as you were fleeing. It was flight alone that counted. I run, therefore I am; more correctly, I run, therefore with any luck I’ll still be.Highlighted by 22 Kindle customers
“So we’re surrounded by absolutely nothing,” said Rincewind. “Total nothing.” He hesitated. “There’s a word for it,” he said. “It’s what you get when there’s nothing left and everything’s been used up.” “Yes. I think it’s called the bill,” said Eric.Highlighted by 22 Kindle customers
You take, for example, a certain type of hotel. It is probably an English version of an American hotel, but operated with that peculiarly English genius for taking something American and subtracting from it its one worthwhile aspect, so that you end up with slow fast food, West Country and Western music and, well, this hotel.Highlighted by 21 Kindle customers
*Just erotic. Nothing kinky. It’s the difference between using a feather and using a chicken.Highlighted by 19 Kindle customers
He could shout ‘help!’ in fourteen languages and scream for mercy in a further twelve.Highlighted by 17 Kindle customers
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