Riflessioni

Ankh-Morpork was, for example, denied the benefit of newspapers, leaving the population to fool themselves as best as they could.

Elzar: "Here you go, big spender. Fois gras and caviar."
Dr. Zoidberg: "Goose liver? Fish eggs? Where's the goose? Where's the fish?"
Elzar: "Hey, that's what rich people eat. The garbage parts of the food."

"This is damn good wine," she said, picking up another bottle. "What did you say it's called?" She peered at the label. "Chateau Maison? Chat-eau... That's foreign for cat's water, you know."

Two pale glows appeared at the edge of the lamplight. Eventually they turned out to be the eyes of a small grey creature, vaguely froglike, paddling towards them on a log.
It reached the boat. Long clammy fingers grabbed the side, and a lugubrious face rose level with Nanny Ogg's.

' 'ullo,' it said. 'It'sss my birthday.'

[...] Granny Weatherwax picked up an oar and hit it firmly over the head.

Only a few people had survived to carry to the barbarian peoples in the less-advanced parts of the Disc all the arts and crafts of civilization, such as usury and macrame.