|So much universe, and so little time|
"I once had to buy a suitcase on a book tour. It had four wheels and a mind of its own. I went right, it went left. I went straight on, it veered in random directions. And because I was in America and Homeland Security searched it every time I flew, whenever I opened it, my clothes were configured differently. Inevitably, I christened it The Luggage, after Terry Pratchett’s sapient pearwood invention, an object generally announced by the patter of its many feet, and characterised by its ever-changing and apparently random contents.
And that for me is the key thing about Pratchett’s fantasy. It always has reality stitched into it, so people like me who don’t read much fantasy feel at home in his world of magic, monstrousness and mortality".
As a family we were lucky enough to catch the great man at one of his last public appearances at the Cheltenham Literary Festival. We have, as have many, an extensive collection of Discworld novels and have visited Ankh Morpork on many occasions past and present.
So as he shares a ride on Binky into the sunset we wish a fond farewell to an inspirational writer.
Real stupidity beats artificial intelligence every time.
It’s not worth doing something unless someone, somewhere, would much rather you weren’t doing it.
Stories of imagination tend to upset those without one.
Fantasy is an exercise bicycle for the mind. It might not take you anywhere, but it tones up the muscles that can.
The presence of those seeking the truth is infinitely to be preferred to the presence of those who think they’ve found it.
There are times in life when people must know when not to let go. Balloons are designed to teach small children this.
The truth may be out there, but the lies are inside your head.
Goodness is about what you do. Not who you pray to.
The Guardian 13/3/2015