Terry David John Pratchett

“Funny if we both got it wrong, eh? Funny if I did the good thing and you did the bad one, eh?”

He’d been an angel once. He hadn’t meant to Fall. He’d just hung around with the wrong people.

The angel turned to Crowley.
“Really, my dear,” he murmured.
“Sorry,” said Crowley. “I was forgetting myself.”

“Don’t you try to tempt me,” said Aziraphale wretchedly. “I know you, you old serpent.”

She was actually quite surprised she’d promised that, since she hadn’t intended to, it strictly speaking being her afternoon free until the coach came, but Miss Tick had a way of asking questions that got the answers she wanted.

Miss Tick also asked for a fresh egg, not cooked, in its shell. Witches were also good at asking questions that weren’t followed by the other person saying, “Why?”

She was actually quite surprised she’d promised that, since she hadn’t intended to, it strictly speaking being her afternoon free until the coach came, but Miss Tick had a way of asking questions that got the answers she wanted.

Miss Tick also asked for a fresh egg, not cooked, in its shell. Witches were also good at asking questions that weren’t followed by the other person saying, “Why?”

Miss Tick?” said Tiffany again as they trudged away.

“Er, yes?”

“You are very nervous,” said Tiffany. “If you told me why, that means there’s two of us, which is only half the nervousness each.”

“Well, the thing about the obvious,” said Miss Level, “is that it so often isn’t. . . .

Things that try too hard to be funny often aren’t.

folded gently into the gutter