I now also began to collect the materials necessary for my new creation, and this was to me like the torture of single drops of water continually falling on the head.
It is considered in the Sto Plains that only scoundrels know the second verse of their national anthem, since anyone spending time memorizing that would be up to no good purpose. The Ankh-Morpork national anthem, therefore, had a second verse that was deliberately written as ner ner ners and the occasional coherent word desperately trying to stay afloat, on the basis that this is how it would sound in any case.
The Warder tossed a white silk shirt onto the bed. “No one refuses an audience with the Amyrlin Seat, sheepherder. Not the Lord Captain Commander of the Whitecloaks himself. Pedron Niall might spend the trip planning how to kill her, if he could do it and get away, but he would come.” He turned around with one of the high-collared coats in his hands and held it up. “This one will do.” Tangled, long-thorned briars climbed each red sleeve in a thick, gold-embroidered line, and ran around each cuff. Golden herons stood on the collars, which were edged with gold. “The color is right, too.” He seemed to be amused at something, or satisfied. “Come on, sheepherder. Change your shirt. Move.”
Lan, to Rand (who thinks the summons may be a death sentence)
Stop that, this instant. Is this meant to impress me, Jemmy? Is it meant to scare me?
That’s right. You’re meant to be Mister Scared. You can have my balloon, if you like.
Aes Sedai were respected and more in Tar Valon, of course, and the Amyrlin Seat ruled the city as she ruled the Aes Sedai, but few wanted to be closer to Aes Sedai power than they had to. There was a difference between being proud of a grand fireplace in your hall and walking into the flames.
He doesn’t need to be serious. He’s better than that. He’s up in the stratosphere of what the human mind can do, above tragedy and strenuous thought, where you will find Bach, Mozart, Einstein, Feynman, and Louis Armstrong, in the realms of pure, creative playfulness.
“The trouble with you, Ibid,” he said, “is that you think you’re the biggest bloody authority on everything.”
Through a mist of confusion and primitive fragments of thought, a muffled message kept repeating: “Something is out there. Something is out there. Something is out there, and it has touched me.” The “me” was the most beautiful part, a special electrical pattern created by many cells at once that could have no other meaning. Quite beyond any analysis of its individual cells, beyond its electrical and chemical impulses going this way and that, the thing had a sensation of Unity.
Consciousness is both the most obvious and the most mysterious feature of our minds.
“Don’t you see? The real magician isn’t the bleary-eyed guy who doesn’t understand a thing; it’s the scientist who has grasped the hidden secrets of the universe.”