A Hat Full of Sky/Quotes

Everything About Fiction You Never Wanted to Know.


Sheep's wool, Jolly Sailor tobacco and turpentine.

Wishes needed thought. She was never likely to say, out loud, 'I wish that I could marry a handsome prince,' but knowing that if you did you'd probably open the door to find a stunned prince, a tied-up priest and a Nac Mac Feegle grinning cheerfully and ready to act as Best Man definitely made you watch what you said.

Admittedly - and it took some admitting - he was a lot less of a twit than he had been. On the other hand, there had been such a lot of twit to begin with.

'Taint what a horse looks like. It's what a horse be.'

She was a witch and a teacher and that's a terrible combination. They want things to be right. They like things to be correct. If you want to upset a witch you don't have to mess around with charms and spells, you just have to put her in a room with a picture that's hung slightly crooked and watch her squirm.

The beef stew tasted, indeed, just like beef stew and not, just to take an example completely and totally at random, stew made out of the last poor girl who'd worked here.

There was a sliding noise and a tinkle exactly like the tinkle a spoon makes when it's put back amongst the other spoons, who have missed it and are anxious to hear its tales of life amongst the frighteningly pointy people.

'Oh no! Witches are all equal. We don't have things like head witches. That's quite against the spirit of witchcraft. Besides, Mistress Weatherwax would never allow that sort of thing.'

'Sorry aboot this,' it said. I talk to my knees, but they dinnae listen to me.'

That's the job of Third Thoughts: First and Second Thoughts might understand your current tragedy, but something has to remember that you haven't eaten since lunch time.

'It's pronouned Ah-Wij.'
—Mrs. Letice Earwig

Lovely to look at
Nice to hold
If you drop it
You get torn apart by wild horses

—Seen on a crystal ball at Zakzak's shop

It's an unfair world, child. Be glad you have friends.

It was dreadful when your own thoughts tried to gang up on you.

She had a momentary picture of Petulia standing in front of some horrible raging thing, but it wasn't as funny as she'd first thought. Petulia would stand in front of it, shaking with terror, her useless amulets clattering, scared almost out of her mind . . . but not backing away. She'd thought there might be people facing something horrible here, and she'd come anyway.

It was followed by a long scream of rage mixed with a roar of complaint: 'AAaargwannawannaaaagongongonaargggaaaa BLOON!' which is the traditional sound of a very small child learning that with balloons, as with life itself, it is important to know when not to let go of the string. The whole point of balloons is to teach small children this.

We heard a song, it went 'Twinkle twinkle little star...' What power! What wondrous power! You can take a billion trillion tons of flaming matter, a furnace of unimaginable strength, and turn it into a little song for children! You build little worlds, little stories, little shells around your minds and that keeps infinity at bay and allows you to wake up in the morning without screaming!

'I'm made up of the memories of my parents and grandparents, all my ancestors. They're in the way I look, in the colour of my hair. And I'm made up of everyone I've ever met who's changed the way I think. So who is "me"?'

There's no shame in pity.

And . . . Annagramma? Don't you ever dare interrupt me again as long as you live. Don't you dare. Don't you dare! I mean it.