Carpe Jugulum

And sin, young man, is when you treat people like things.

Granny was an old-fashioned witch. She didn’t do good for people, she did right by them.

Everywhere I look, I see something holy.

Don't do anything I wouldn't do, if you ever find anything I wouldn't do.

When people say things are a lot more complicated than that, they means they're getting worried that they won't like the truth.

She was not, herself, hugely in favor of motherhood in general. Obviously it was necessary, but it wasn't exactly difficult. Even cats managed it. But women acted as if they'd been given a medal that entitled them to boss people around. It was as if, just because they'd got the label which said "mother", everyone else got a tiny part of the label that said "child"...

The smug mask of virtue triumphant could be almost as horrible as the face of wickedness revealed.

Any fool could be a witch with a runic knife, but it took skill to be one with an apple corer.

Supposing there was justice for all, after all? For every unheeded beggar, every harsh word, every neglected duty, every slight... every choice... Because that was the point, wasn't it? You had to choose. You might be right, you might be wrong, but you had to choose, knowing that the rightness or wrongness might never be clear or even that you were deciding between two sorts of wrong, that there was no right anywhere. And always, always, you did it by yourself. You were the one there, on the edge, watching and listening. Never any tears, never any apology, never any regrets... You saved all that up in a way that could be used when needed.

Carpe Jugulum," read Agnes aloud. "That's... well, Carpe Diem is 'Sieze the Day,' so this means-" "Go for the throat

This is Morbidia," said Vlad. "Although she's been calling herself Tracy lately, to be cool.

As the eye of narrative drew back from the coffin on its stand, two things happened. One happened comparatively slowly, and this was Vargo's realisation that he never recalled the coffin having a pillow before. The other was Greebo deciding that he was as mad as hell and wasn't going to take it any more.

Oh, we're always all right. You remember that. We happen to other people. -Nanny Ogg

My granny used to say if you’re too sharp you’ll cut yourself,

Don’t trust the cannibal just ’cos he’s usin’ a knife and fork!

All witches who'd lived in her cottage were bookish types. They thought you could see life through books but you couldn't, the reason being that the words got in the way.

Mistress Weatherwax, you are a natural disputant.” “No I ain’t!

... all reputable falconers agreed that for hunting purposes the only way you could reliably bring down prey with a wowhawk was by using it in a slingshot.

I never understood that story, anyway,” said Nanny. “I mean, if I knew I’d got a heel that would kill me if someone stuck a spear in it, I’d go into battle wearing very heavy boots—

A philosopher might have deplored this lack of mental ambition, but only if he was really certain about where his next meal was coming from. In fact Lancre's position and climate bred a hard-headed and straightforward people who often excelled in the world down below. it had supplied the planins with many of their greatest wizards and witches and, once again, the philospher might have marveled that such a four-square people could give the world so many successful magical practitioners, being quite unaware that only those with their feet on rock can build castles in the air.

Once you gave a thing a name you gave it a life.

...they wore their hair long like a poet who hopes that romantically flowing locks will make up for a wretched inability to find a rhyme for “daffodil.

This is Lancre we’re talkin’ about. If we was men, we’d be talking about layin’ down our lives for the country. As women, we can talk about laying down.

…We were born vampires." "I thought you became –" "— vampires by being bitten? Dear me, no. Oh, we can turn people into vampires, it’s an easy technique, but what would be the point? When you eat… now what is it you eat? Oh yes, chocolate… you don’t want to turn it into another Agnes Nitt, do you? Less chocolate to go around." He sighed. "Oh dear, superstition, superstition everywhere we turn.

The Weatherwax women have always had one foot in shadow. It's in the blood. And most of their power comes from denying it.

The reward for toil had been more toil. If you dug the best ditches, they gave you a bigger shovel.

There was practically nothing that he wouldn’t attack, including architecture.