"It would seem that you have no useful skill or talent whatsoever," he said. "Have you thought of going into teaching?"
"How do you get all those coins?" asked Mort.IN PAIRS."
"And so Mort came at last to the river Ankh, greatest of rivers. Even before it entered the city, it was slow and heavy with the silt of the plains, and by the time it got to The Shades even an agnostic could have walked across it. It was hard to drown in the Ankh, but easy to suffocate."
"Oh. I see. People don't want to see what can't possibly exist."
"History isn't like that. History unravels gently, like an old sweater. It has been patched and darned many times, reknitted to suit different people, shoved in a box under the sink of censorship to be cut up for the dusters of propaganda, yet it always - eventually - manages to spring back into its old familar shape. History has a habit of changing the people who think they are changing it. History always has a few tricks up its frayed sleeve. It's been around a long time."
"His granny taught him to read, see. I reckon it overheated his mind."
"Albert grunted. "Do you know what happens to lads who ask too many questions?"Mort thought for a moment."No," he said eventually, "what?"There was silence.Then Albert straightened up and said, "Damned if I know. Probably they get answers, and serve 'em right."
"And he goes around killing people?” said Mort. He shook his head. “There’s no justice.”Death sighed. No, he said... there’s just me."
"I DON'T KNOW ABOUT YOU, he said, BUT I COULD MURDER A CURRY."
"It struck Mort with sudden, terrible poignancy that Death must be the loneliest creature in the universe. In the great party of Creation, he was always in the kitchen."