Lubię góry. Ciężar plecaka i równy rytm kroków. Krople deszczu na skórze i drzewa. Podróże, sushi i moją kuchnię. Kocham koty. Dobrą książkę, półsłodkie wino. Leniwe popołudnia. Moją pracę.

Chciałabym być jak Esme Weatherwax, bliżej mi jednak do Agness Nitt - ona miała swoją Perditę, a ja mam moją Usagi...

Phantom in the Opera

Maskerade, Terry Pratchett

... he'd moved like music, like someone dancing to a rhythm inside his head. And his face for a moment in the moonlight was the skull of an angel...

Kategorie: historie,


On a million bridges the girl chose

Lords and Ladies, Terry Pratchett

Circle time was ending. Besides, she knew now why her mind had felt so unraveled, and that was a help. She couldn't hear the ghostly thoughts of all other Esme Weatherwaxes any more.
Perhaps some lived in a world ruled by elves. Or had died long age. Or were living what they thought were happy lives. Granny Weatherwax seldom wished for anything, because wishing was soppy, but she felt a tiny regret that she'd never be able to meet them.
Perhaps some were going to die, now, here on this path. Everything you did meant that a million copies of you did something else. Some were going to die. She'd sensed their future deaths... the deaths of Esme Weatherwax. And couldn't save them, because chance did not work like that.
On million hillsides the girl ran, on a million bridges the girl chose, on a million paths the woman stood...
All different, all one.
All she could do for all of them was be herself, here and now, as hard as she could.

Gods need someone to pray too

Small Gods, Terry Pratchett

Gods have no one to pray to.
Om really wished that this was not the case.
But everyone need someone.

Kategorie: Om, wiara,


You have to fight for one

Small Gods, Terry Pratchett

'Is one less than fifty-one?' said P'Tang-P'Tang.
'It's the same,' said Om, firmly. He eyed the back of the Tsortean God's head.
'But you have thousands,' said the Newt God. 'You fight for thousands.'
Om rubbed his forehead. I spent too long down there, he thought. I can't stop thinking at ground level.
'I think,' he said, 'I think, if you want thousands, you have to fight for one.' He tapped the Solar God on the shoulder. 'Hey, sunshine?'
When the God looked around, Om broke the cornucopia over his head.

Kategorie: Om, wiara,



Soul Music, Terry Pratchett

Ridcully blinked.
'What are they?' he said. And then, form the depths of memory, a horrible answer suggested itself. Only a very specific species had names like that.
'Er. Yes?' said Ponder, backing away. 'That's all right, isn't it? I mean, this is a university ...'
Ridcully scratched his ear. The man was right, of course. You had to have some of the buggers around, there was no getting away from it.

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