Beaker Folk assemble disconsolately in Octarine hi-viz, bearing the legend "We stole a lot of our stuff from you."
Archdruid: Mort, you little sod.
All: Amen.
A luggage wanders miserably counter-sunwise round the Moot House on its hundreds of dear little legs, followed by three witches. The librarian of Unseen University swings dolefully from the bookcase. Far off, the setting sun makes the edge of the Diskworld nearest it quite warm, before dropping to bestow its rays on an ancient star-turtle. Great A'Tuin continues the endless journey, knowing that somehow there's not as much joy in the world as there was.
"somehow there's not as much joy in the world as there was."
ReplyDeleteNever a truer word was spoken :-(
No one, in my experience, has ever written of Death as a more human subject than Sir Terry.
DeleteThe fact that Death has a soft spot for cats made a great deal of difference for me.
The world will always contain the joy of his existence. Be it either the Dark Morris, or the Luggage, we are all left seeing the world with influenced eyes.
But what a wonderful legacy of humane thought. And maybe the Department of Post-Mortem Communications might help, if Dr Hix is available?
ReplyDelete"somehow there's not as much joy in the world as there was."
ReplyDeleteNor as much intelligence. His books gave our family so much pleasure.
RIP indeed. I must confess that I have never read any of his fantasy, but many years ago he penned a splendidly funny book about cats - The Unadulterated Cat which I could recommend to anybody, even dog lovers.
ReplyDelete