Rincewind: That's old Twoflower for you. He just appreciates beauty in his own way. I mean, if a poet sees a daffodil, he stares at it and then writes a long poem. But Twoflower would wander off and buy a book on botany, and then as he reads it he would tread on the daffodil.
Trymon: I hope it's a good party. Death: I think it might go downhill at midnight. Trymon: Why? Death: That's when they think I'll be taking my mask off.
Death: I think I've just had another Near Rincewind Experience.
Cohen the Barbarian: Hot water. Good dentishtry. Shoft lavatory paper.
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