tribute: Maskerade
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@@ -1215,7 +1215,7 @@ followed by long periods of being dead."
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%title Maskerade (4)
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%title Maskerade (9)
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# pp. 81-82, continued on pp. 87-89 (Harper Torch edition; apparently
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# transcribed from some other edition based on quote marks used;
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# a great number of very short paragraphs--it stretches a long way
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@@ -1386,6 +1386,89 @@ with the city Watch whatsoever.'
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[Maskerade, by Terry Pratchett]
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%e passage
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# p. 27 (Harper Torch edition)
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%passage 5
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Lancre had always bred strong, capable women. A Lancre farmer needed a
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wife who'd think nothing of beating a wolf to death with her apron when
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she went out to get some firewood. And, while kissing initially seemed to
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have more charms than cookery, a stolid Lancre lad looking for a bride
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would bear in mind his father's advice that kisses eventually lost their
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fire but cookery tended to get even better over the years, and direct his
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courting to those families that clearly showed a tradition of enjoying
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their food.
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[Maskerade, by Terry Pratchett]
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%e passage
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# p. 28
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%passage 6
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Music and magic had a lot in common. They were only two letters apart,
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for one thing. And you couldn't to both.
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[Maskerade, by Terry Pratchett]
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%e passage
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# p. 31
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%passage 7
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She'd caught herself saying "poot!" and "dang!" when she wanted to swear,
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and using pink writing paper.
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She'd got a reputation for being calm and capable in a crisis.
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Next thing she knew she'd be making shortbread and apple pies as good as
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her mother's, and then there'd be no hope for her.
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So she'd introduced Perdita. She'd heard somewhere that inside every fat
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woman was a thin woman trying to get out,(1) so she'd named her Perdita.
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She was a good repository for all those thoughts that Agnes couldn't think
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on account of her wonderful personality. Perdita would use black writing
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paper if she could get away with it, and would be beautifully pale instead
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of embarassingly flushed. Perdita wanted to be an interestingly lost soul
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in plum-colored lipstick. Just occasionally, though, Agnes thought
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Perdita was as dumb as she was.
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(1) Or, at least, dying for chocolate.
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[Maskerade, by Terry Pratchett]
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%e passage
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# p. 197 (dress shop proprietor has just sold an expensive dress to Granny)
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%passage 8
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She looked down at the money in her hand.
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She knew about old money, which was somehow hallowed by the fact that
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people had hung on to it for years, and she knew about new money, which
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seemed to be being made by all these upstarts that were flooding into the
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city these days. But under her powdered bosom she was an Ankh-Morpork
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shopkeeper, and knew that the best kind of money was the sort that was in
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her hand rather than someone else's. The best kind of money was mine,
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not yours.
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Besides, she was also enough of a snob to confuse rudeness with good
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breeding. In the same way that the really rich can never be mad (they're
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eccentric), so they can also never be rude (they're outspoken and
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forthright).
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[Maskerade, by Terry Pratchett]
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%e passage
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# pp. 288-289
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%passage 9
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Detritus reached down and picked up an eye patch.
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"What d'you think, then?" said Nobby scornfully. "You think he turned into
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a bat and flew away?"
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"Ha! I do not t'ink that 'cos it is in ... consist .. ent with modern
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policing," said Detritus.
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"Well, /I/ think," said Nobby, "that when you have ruled out the impossible,
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what is left, however improbable, ain't worth hanging around on a cold night
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wonderin' about when you could be getting on the outside of a big drink.
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Come on. I want to try a leg of the elephant that bit me."
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"Was dat irony?"
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"That was metaphor."
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[Maskerade, by Terry Pratchett]
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%e passage
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%e title
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#
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#
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