allusion

What some people need," said Magrat, to the world in general, "is a bit more heart.""What some people need," said Granny Weatherwax, to the stormy sky, "is a lot more brain."Then she clutched at her hat to stop the wind from blowing i

Life is an illusion. Don__ forget to enjoy the magnificence of magic.

A little bit of one story joins onto an idea from another, and hey presto, . . . not old tales but new ones. Nothing comes from nothing.

In keeping with your policy of bringing Pollution the latest in death and violence, and in living colour, there__ going to be something entirely different_ death without remediation.

She crossed her legs and kicked out her feet, clad in thick wool socks and boots big enough to house a little old lady.

Airplane Dream #13' told the story, more or less, of a dream Rosa had had about the end of the world. There were no human beings left but her, and she had found herself flying in a pink seaplane to an island inhabited by sentient lemurs. There seemed to be a lot more to it -- there was a kind of graphic "sound track" constructed around images relating to Peter Tchaikovsky and his works, and of course abundant food imagery -- but this was, as far as Joe could tell, the gist. The story was told entirely through collage, with pictures clipped from magazines and books. There were pictures from anatomy texts, an exploded musculature of the human leg, a pictorial explanation of peristalsis. She had found an old history of India, and many of the lemurs of her dream-apocalypse had the heads and calm, horizontal gazes of Hindu princes and goddesses. A seafood cookbook, rich with color photographs of boiled crustacea and poached whole fish with jellied stares, had been throughly mined. Sometimes she inscribed text across the pictures, none of which made a good deal of sense to him; a few pages consisted almost entirely of her brambly writing, illuminated, as it were, with collage. There were some penciled-in cartoonish marginalia like the creatures found loitering at the edges of pages in medieval books.

It was how it had been with the madman among the tombs, that their number was legion, far in excess at any rate if the number listed on the back of the door as the room's maximum occupancy.

Wow," Mira said, looking around, "super fun.""When do they bring out the pig's blood and dump it on the head of the awkward girl with telekinetic powers?" Sebby asked."Not until ten, I think.""Well, what are we supposed to do until then? This was not well planned.