Terry Pratchett
Terry Pratchett
Sir Terence David John "Terry" Pratchett, OBEwas an English author of fantasy novels, especially comical works. He is best known for his Discworld series of 41 novels. Pratchett's first novel, The Carpet People, was published in 1971; after the first Discworld novel, The Colour of Magic, was published in 1983, he wrote two books a year on average. His 2011 Discworld novel Snuff was at the time of its release the third-fastest-selling hardback adult-readership novel since records began in the...
NationalityEnglish
ProfessionNovelist
Date of Birth28 April 1948
CityBeaconsfield, England
I had a deprived childhood, you see. I had lots of other kids to play with and my parents bought me outdoor toys and refused to ill-treat me, so it never occurred to me to seek solitary consolation with a good book.
As a species, we are forever sticking our finger into the electric socket of the universe to see what will happen next.
Actors, said Granny, witheringly. As if the world weren't full of enough history without inventing more.
People are bound to get excited when they see a ten-million-ton starship trying to fly down the street.
I'm fairy godmothering a girl who sounds like something you put up in the rain.
I thought jet planes were just trucks with more wings and less wheels.
Take it from me, whenever you see a bunch of buggers puttering around talking about truth and beauty and the best way of attacking Ethics, you can bet your sandals it's all because dozens of other poor buggers are doing all the real work around the place.
You can't find a hermit to teach you herming, because of course that rather spoils the whole thing.
I'm mean and turf and I'm mean and turf and I'm mean and turf and I'm mean and turf, And me an' my friends can walk towards you with our hats on backwards in a menacing way, Yo!
I like the idea of democracy. You have to have someone everyone distrusts,
We're philosophers. We think, therefore we am.
All holy piety in public, and all peeled grapes and self-indulgence in private.
Are you a philosopher? Where's your sponge?
When a man is tired of Ankh-Morpork, he is tired of ankle-deep slurry.