Using a metaphor in front of a man as unimaginative as Ridcully was like a red flag to a bu-- was like putting something very annoying in front of someone who was annoyed by it.

Terry Pratchett, Lords and Ladies

#GNUTerryPratchett, #SpeakHisName, #Discworld

As castles went, this one looked as though it could be taken by a small squad of not very efficient soldiers. For defence, putting a blanket over your head might be marginally safer.

Terry Pratchett, The Fifth Elephant

#GNUTerryPratchett, #SpeakHisName, #Discworld

Every time I read a Pratchett book I'm overawed by his use of language. For example, from The Truth:

"[The dog] walked with a limp and also in a kind of oblique fashion, as though it was trying to insinuate its way through the world."

That's an incredible sentence.

Everyone knows that a great writer creates worlds. What is lesser known and believed, is that in an infinite multiverse, the very greatest writers worlds become universes of their own.

And in one such universe on this day, the world turtle, Great A'tuin, pauses its relentless journey across the stars and remembers. The world it carries grows still. Wars pause, fights end and even the bitterest and most fermented of feuds takes a moment, like the fine wine passed down through the generations that they were, to rest.
Even in the great and ignoble city of Ankh-Morpork, where nothing is sacred or revered, this day is marked. The dwarf and Troll bars go quiet, but for the murmur of the old stories of the world being told. Even the Mended Drum is as quiet as a tearoom on a Sunday afternoon. Wizards and assassins, thieves and guilds and even the seamstresses pause their relentless activity. It's even said to be possible to use the Shades as a shortcut and be sure to come out on the other side, although probably not by those who didn't.
It's even rumoured and whispered about, that on this day, all the mime artists and clowns who otherwise never speak, gather far from the city, in a place where they can be sure there will be no audience. And there, in glorious chorus, they raise their voices and sing a lament of such power and sadness, regret and loss and memory, that it was as if the very angels themselves were singing the memory of this day.
Although, there again, perhaps not, even in this universe, something's could just be too far-fetched to be true.

Gone, but never forgotten. His memory lives on, as long as his song is heard.

Ten years ago I was missing six Discworld books, and decided to stop reading for I could not bear the idea that new ones would never come out.

At some point last year I made peace with that, and I feel almost ready for Sheperd's Crown.

I am now waiting for my daughter to be old enough to start appreciating them as I did as a kid.

Sir Terry Pratchett was one of two people who I quoted directly in my dissertation. This line from Feet of Clay was the motto for my introductory chapter:

"This is where we’ve filled ourselves up with so many questions that they’re starting to overflow and become answers."

It resonated with me, because this is what doing research often feels like for me.

oh christ, I've been wondering why Im in just an utterly black mood today.

Terry Pratchett died 10 years ago today.

That day I walked to the store, bought a plastic bottle of vodka, and drank most of it while crying at a public park.

a few days later I got "How do they rise up" tattoo'd on my inner bicep.

Generally considered a femme place to get a tattoo but I liked it anyways. #ThereWereNoSigns

Its hard to put into words what that man and his Works meant to me. What they still mean to me.

He taught me "Dont get scared, get angry"

That "there is no justice. There is just us."

That revolutions rarely help the people who need help, they usually just swap one ruling body for another.

That your gender expression is whatever the fuck you want it to be and letting generations of dead people decide otherwise for you is not just stupid but a fate worse than death.

That sin begins when you treat people as things. Especially yourself.

That compassion isn't always the same thing as nice.

That Words In The Heart Cannot Be Taken.

That no one is truly dead as long as their name is still spoken.

#GNUTerryPratchett

I will never stop speaking your name.

In honor of Terry Pratchett, I feel the need to share the link to his short story "Death and What Comes Next."

https://www.lspace.org/books/dawcn/dawcn-english.html

Ten years ago, Sir Terry Pratchett died. But "A man’s not dead while his name is still spoken."

We carry his memory with each DokuWiki release being named after one of his many Discworld characters.

If you never read a book by him - now is a good time to do so!