Не мога да копирам цели книги като цитат, но ето тези двата от "Стражите! Стражите!" в комбинация току що ме разбиха за пореден път (а съм я чела незапомнен брой пъти):
"The city wasa, wasa, wasa wossname. Thing. Woman. Thass what it was. Woman. Roaring, ancient, centuries old. Strung you along, let you fall in thingy, love, with her, then kicked you inna, inna, thingy. Thingy, in your mouth. Tongue. Tonsils. Teeth. That’s what it, she, did. She wasa…thing, you know, lady dog. Puppy. Hen. Bitch. And then you hated her and, and just when you thought you’d got her, it, out of your, your, whatever, then she opened her great booming rotten heart to you, caught you off bal, bal, bal, thing. Ance. Yeah. Thassit. Never knew where where you stood. Lay. Only thing you were sure of, you couldn’t let her go. Because, because she was yours, all you had, even in her gutters…"
За лейди Сибил:
"And she had style and money and common-sense and self-assurance and all the things that he didn’t, and she had opened her heart, and if you let her she could engulf you; the woman
was a city. And eventually, under siege, you did what Ankh-Morpork had always done—unbar the gates, let the conquerors in, and make them your own."
Ето това отношение към нещата, дългата метафора, безкрайното внимание към подробностите, до степен да се превърнат в основа на цяла книга: затова чета, и най-вече, затова препрочитам Пратчет вече повече от десет години.
Извинявам се за английския, но я четох на английски и четенето в оригинал си струва (особено след като съм я чела на български), защото някои шеги за жалост са непреведими...