The word 'ivory' rang in the air, was whispered, was sighed. You would think they were praying to it. A taint of imbecile rapacity blew through it all, like a whiff from some corpse.
Joseph ConradAbout author
- Author's profession: Novelist, Writer
- Nationality: polish
- Born: December 3, 1857
- Died: August 3, 1924
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Oh no, not -'
OF COURSE, WHAT'S SO BLOODY VEXING ABOUT THE WHOLE BUSINESS IS THAT I WAS EXPECTING TO MEET THEE IN PSEPHOPOLOLIS
'But that's five hundred miles away!'
YOU DON'T HAVE TO TELL ME, THE WHOLE SYSTEM'S GOT SCREWED UP AGAIN, I CAN SEE THAT. LOOK, THERE'S NO CHANCE OF YOU-?
Rincewind backed away, hands spread protectively in front of him...
'Not a chance!'
I COULD LEND YOU A VERY FAST HORSE.
'No!'
IT WON'T HURT A BIT.
'No!' Rincewind turned and ran. Death watched him go, and...
Terry Prachett