It's Midsummer Night.No time for dreaming.

This is space. It's sometimes called the final frontier.(Except that of course you can't have a final frontier, because there'd be nothing for it to be a frontier to, but as frontier go, it's pretty penultimate...)

The Discworld is as unreal as it is possible to be while still being just real enuff to exist.

There's a saying that there is a saying that all roads lead to Ankh-Morpork. And it's wrong. All roads lead away from Ankh-Morpork, but sometimes people just walk along them the wrong way.

The universe contains any amount of horrible ways to be woken up, such as the noise of the mob breaking down the front door, the scream of fire engines, or the realization that today is the Monday which on Friday night was a comfortably way off.

Death is missing - presumed.....er....gone.Which leads to the kind of chaos you always get when an important public service is withdrawn. Meanwhile, on a little farm, far, far away, a tall dark stranger is turning out to be really good with the scythe. There's a harvest to be gathered in....


Images by andrei-dorian gavrila
Text from: The Wit & Wisdom of Discworld - Compiled by Stephen Briggs(From the Discworld serie of Terry Pratchett)

Dedicated to "Patafizica si Fum" and her endeavor with SF literature.