The Colour of Magic

Death:
Don't mind me. I've got a book to read.

Death:
I was at a party, you know.

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.

Cohen the Barbarian:
Hot water. Good dentishtry. Shoft lavatory paper.

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.

Death:
Your lifetime is up, Rincewind. I can't hang around all day.

Rincewind:
I can. What have you done with the tourist?

Death:
Nothing. He was lured by the attraction of the Wyrmberg.

Rincewind:
So at least the Patrician won't be sending out his men to kill me just yet then?

Death:
There is a distinct possibility that he may not need to.

Rincewind:
What are you grinning at?

Death:
Oh, I'm sorry. I can't help it. Now, would you be so kind as to let go? It won't hurt.

Rincewind:
Being torn to pieces by wolves won't hurt?

Death:
It would be over very quickly. And of course, they are an endangered species.

Death:
I think I've just had another Near Rincewind Experience.

Death:
I think I've just had a near Rincewind experience.