In theory it was, around now, Literature. Susan hated Literature. She'd much prefer to read a good book.

But there is in everything a reasonable division of labour. I have written the book, and nothing on earth would induce me to read it.

Asking a working writer what he thinks about critics is like asking a lamp-post what it feels about dogs."

[Time Magazine, October 31, 1977]

What's a philosopher?' said Brutha.
Someone who's bright enough to find a job with no heavy lifting,' said a voice in his head.

Don't you understand?" snarled Rincewind. "We are going over the Edge, godsdammit!"
"Can't we do anything about it?"
"No!"
"Then I can't see the sense in panicking," said Twoflower calmly.

And then Jack chopped down what was the world's last beanstalk, adding murder and ecological terrorism to the theft, enticement, and trespass charges already mentioned, and all the giant's children didn't have a daddy anymore. But he got away with it and lived happily ever after, without so much as a guilty twinge about what he had done...which proves that you can be excused for just about anything if you are a hero, because no one asks inconvenient questions.