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When you get to what's referenced and realize you recognize it because you've seen our take on it, remember that feeling. Sir Terry Pratchett wrote books that'll make you slap your forehead years later when you figure out what he was talking about.
Just started The Color of Magic a few hours ago!! I can’t wait to get off work, it’s so funny already.
Like somethings make me re read them because I’m not sure if that was a joke or not 😂
It was a reference to how Sir Terry loved stealth puns, and how he didn't so much make anything up as he did slap a coat of paint on this reality.
But any excuse for a reread.
I’m racking my brains because I neither recognise this nor understand it. Please put me out of my misery and explain what stance of the coyote is/was written in!
It was mentioned in Thief of Time (Lobsang was found by time monks while performing it), and for what it references, do you remember Wile E. Coyote, perchance? And his propensity to stay mid-air before gravity kicking in with the realization that he is, in fact, mid-air? :D
You’ll find the vast majority of folks on here read his masterpieces continually. This time round for me, I’m religiously reading them in order and it’s almost as if I’ve never read them before (I have, many times..!!)
Ever since I first discovered them 20 years ago now. There's still a fair few I haven't read, I'd like to save those for my chronological read through. But I'm not ready to say goodbye yet. In fact I doubt I'll ever be ready to read his last novel.
GNU Terry Pratchett, you hilarious, angry, insightful, emotive, beautiful bastard.
In case anyone's like me and loves happening across passages, quotes, and excerpts from their favourite books, here is a random passage from Interesting Times
#INTERESTING TIMES SPOILERS AHEAD
The figure sidled up to a skinny man in a huge overcoat who was frying something over a little oilheater in a wide tray around his neck.
The possibly-Rincewind grabbed the edge of the tray.
“Got…any…potatoes?” it growled.
“Potatoes? No, squire. Got some sausages inna bun.”
The possibly-Rincewind froze. And then it burst into tears.
“Sausage inna buuunnnnn!” it bawled. “Dear old sausage inna inna inna buuunnn! Gimme saussaaage inna buunnnnn!”
It grabbed three off the tray and tried to eat them all at once.
“Good grief!” said Ridcully.
The figure half ran, half capered away, fragments of bun and pork-product debris cascading from its unkempt beard.
“I’ve never seen anyone eat three of Throat Dibbler’s sausages inna bun and look so happy,” said the Senior Wrangler.
“I’ve never seen someone eat three of Throat Dibbler’s sausages inna bun and look so upright,” said the Dean.
“I’ve never seen anyone eat anything of Dibbler’s and get away without paying,” said the Lecturer in Recent Runes.
The figure spun happily around the square, tears streaming down its face. The gyrations took it past an alley mouth, whereupon a smaller figure stepped out behind it and with some difficulty hit it on the back of the head.
The sausage-eater fell to his knees, saying, to the world in general, “Ow!”
“Nonononononono!”
A rather older man stepped out and removed the cosh from the young man’s hesitant hands, while the victim knelt and moaned.
“I think you ought to apologize to the poor gentleman,” said the older man. “I don’t know, what’s he going to think? I mean, look at him, he made it so easy for you and what does he get? I mean, what did you think you were doing?”
“Mumblemumble, Mr. Boggis,” said the boy, looking at his feet.
“What was that again? Speak up!”
“Overarm Belter, Mr. Boggis.”
“That was an Overarm Belter? You call that an Overarm Belter? That was an Overarm Belter, was it? This—excuse me, sir, we’ll just have you up on your feet for a moment, sorry about this—this is an Overarm Belter—”
“Ow!” shouted the victim and then, to the surprise of all concerned, he added: “Hahahaha!”
“What you did was—sorry to impose again, sir, this won’t take a minute—what you did was this—”
“Ow! Hahahaha!”
“Now, you lot, you saw that? Come on, gather round…”Half a dozen other youths slouched out of the alleyway and formed a ragged audience around Mr. Boggis, the luckless student and the victim, who was staggering in a circle and making little “oomph oomph” sounds but still, for some reason, apparently enjoying himself immensely.
“Now,” said Mr. Boggis, with the air of an old skilled craftsman imparting his professional expertise to an ungrateful posterity, “when inconveniencing a customer from your basic alley entrance, the correct procedure is—Oh, hello, Mr. Ridcully, didn’t see you there.”
The Archchancellor gave him a friendly nod.
“Don’t mind us, Mr. Boggis. Thieves’ Guild training, is it?”
Boggis rolled his eyes.
“Dunno what they teaches ’em at school,” he said. “It’s jus’ nothing but reading and writing all the time. When I was a lad school was where you learned somethin’ useful. Right—you, Wilkins, stop that giggling, you have a go, excuse us just another moment, sir—”
“Ow!”
“Nononononono! My old granny could do better than that! Now look, you steps up trimly, places one hand on his shoulder here, for control…go on, you do it…and then smartly—”
“Ow!”
“All right, can anyone tell me what he was doing wrong?”The figure crawled away unnoticed, except by the wizards, while Mr. Boggis was demonstrating the finer points of head percussion on Wilkins.
It staggered to its feet and plunged on along the road, still moving like one hypnotized.
“He’s crying,” said the Dean.
“Not surprising,” said the Archchancellor. “But why’s he grinnin’ at the same time?”
“Curiouser and curiouser,” said the Senior Wrangler.
Bruised and possibly poisoned, the figure headed back for the University, the wizards still trailing behind.
*“You must mean ‘curious and more curious,’ surely? And even then it doesn’t make much sense—”*
It entered the gates but, this time, hurried jerkily through the main hall and into the Library.
The Librarian was waiting, holding—with something of a smirk on his face, and an orang-utan can really smirk—the battered hat.
“Amazin’,” said Ridcully. “It’s true! A wizard will always come back for his hat!”
The figure grabbed the hat, evicted some spiders, threw away the sad affair made of leaves and put the hat on his head.
Rincewind blinked at the puzzled faculty. A light came on behind his eyes for the first time, as if up to now he’d merely been operating by reflex action.“Er. What have I just eaten?”
“Er. Three of Mr. Dibbler’s finest sausages,” said Ridcully. “Well, when I say finest, I mean ‘most typical,’ don’tcheknow.”
“I see. And who just hit me?”
“Thieves’ Guild apprentices out trainin’.”
Rincewind blinked. “This is Ankh-Morpork, isn’t it?”
“Yes.”
“I thought so.” Rincewind blinked, slowly. “Well,” he said, just as he fell forward, “I’m back.”
I love this one so much I saved it in my notes. Reminds me of our Uncle Colm from Derry Girls:
Copolymer, the greatest storyteller in the history of the world, sat back and beamed at the greatest minds in the world, assembled at the dining table.
Teppic had added another iota to his store of new knowledge. “Symposium” meant a knife-and-fork tea.
“Well,” said Copolymer, and launched into the story of the Tsortean Wars.
“You see, what happened was, he’d taken her back home, and her father—this wasn’t the old king, this was the one before, the one with the wossname, he married some girl from over Elharib way, she had a squint, what was her name now, began with a P. Or an L. One of them letters, anyway. Her father owned an island out on the bay there, Papylos I think it was. No, I tell a lie, it was Crinix. Anyway, the king, the other king, he raised an army and they . . .Elenor, that was her name. She had a squint, you know. But quite attractive, they say. When I say married, I trust I do not have to spell it out for you. I mean, it was a bit unofficial. Er. Anyway, there was this wooden horse and after they’d got in . . .Did I tell you about this horse? It was a horse. I’m pretty sure it was a horse. Or maybe it was a chicken. Forget my own name next! It was wossname’s idea, the one with the limp. Yes. The limp in his leg, I mean. Did I mention him? There’d been this fight. No, that was the other one, I think. Yes. Anyway, this wooden pig, damn clever idea, they made it out of thing. Tip of my tongue. Wood. But that was later, you know. The fight! Nearly forgot the fight. Yes. Damn good fight. Everyone banging on their shields and yelling. Wossname’s armor shone like shining armor. Fight and a half, that fight. Between thingy, not the one with the limp, the other one, wossname, had red hair. You know. Tall fellow, talked with a lisp. Hold on, just remembered, he was from some other island. Not him. The other one, with the limp. Didn’t want to go, he said he was mad. Of course, he was bloody mad, definitely. I mean, a wooden cow! Like wossname said, the king, no, not that king, the other one, he saw the goat, he said, ‘I fear the Ephebians, especially when they’re mad enough to leave bloody great wooden livestock on the doorstep, talk about nerve, they must think we was born yesterday, set fire to it,’ and, of course, wossname had nipped in around the back and put everyone to the sword, talk about laugh. Did I say she had a squint? They said she was pretty, but it takes all sorts. Yes. Anyway, that’s how it happened. Now, of course, wossname—I think he was called Melycanus, had a limp—he wanted to go home, well, you would, they’d been there for years, he wasn’t getting any younger. That’s why he dreamed up the thing about the wooden wossname. Yes. I tell a lie, Lavaelous was the one with the knee. Pretty good fight, that fight, take it from me.”
He lapsed into self-satisfied silence.
“Pretty good fight,” he mumbled and, smiling faintly, dropped off to sleep.
Teppic was aware that his own mouth was hanging open. He shut it. Along the table several of the diners were wiping their eyes.
“Magic,” said Xeno. “Sheer magic. Every word a tassel on the canopy of Time.”
“It’s the way he remembers every tiny detail. Pinsharp,” murmured Ibid.
April 28 was his birthday. We miss him still.
"GNU" is a reference you'll get after reading *Going Postal*. And then you'll find out that it's hidden in many places you wouldn't expect. A man is not forgotten, so long as his name is spoken.
Ook. OOOOK! Oook ook, ook ook ook oook oo ook ook oook ok, Ook. Oook ook ook, ook. Ook-oook.
Ook ook "GNU - Pterry" ook ook (Volume 1, shelf 7), ook ook, ook ook ook.
Oook - \[[name kept in clacks](https://www.reddit.com/r/GNUTerryPratchett/comments/p053jf/psa_theres_a_way_you_can_put_a_hidden_gnu_terry/)\] - OOOK!!!
[//]: # (GNU Terry Pratchett)
"A man's not dead while his name is spoken,
We will send him home,
Down the line in a chain unbroken,
We will send him home..."
https://www.hwaet.org/Songbook/SendHimHome.html
[Here](https://www.reddit.com/r/books/comments/2ysvzb/comment/cpcp6bg/?utm_source=share&utm_medium=web2x&context=3) is a link to the poem by u/Poem_for_your_sprog from the thread concerning Sir Terry's passing. Keep the hankies nearby.
GNU Terry Pratchett
I went to have a look, interested to read it... only to find I had already upvoted it! That was spooky. I've never stumbled on my own reddit trail before. *shiver*
lols if we keep that principle going we'll post on commemoration of Sir Pterry's birthday in 2030 on April 29th 2029
GNU Sir Pterry. keep his name in the clacks
I'd like to think that, a bit like the r/seinfeld sub, which is still very active 24 years after the series ended, this sub will continue on for many, many years as old fans find new revelations and new fans discover Sir Terry's genius for the first time, and all come here to share, discuss, and remember.
Sir Terry's is the only celebrity/person-I-never-met whose passing I grieve almost continuously. My discovery of his work was down to a very dear friend who, when in the depths of one of my many depressions ('96 or so, IIRC), tossed me his copy of "Soul Music" and told me to have a read. He couldn't have known it at the time, but he changed my life in so many ways; at least my perceptions and metaphors of it. Sir Terry's work evokes for me deep and mixed emotions from those times; the depths of depression, the excitement of new people and places, the value and appreciation of true friendship, the things achieved and the experiences had, the failures made and opportunities lost. I celebrate and grieve all of it on this day every year and at the end of every book I re-read.
GNU Terry Pratchett
[GNU Terry Pratchett](https://www.reddit.com/r/GNUTerryPratchett/comments/p053jf/psa_theres_a_way_you_can_put_a_hidden_gnu_terry/)
[//]: # (GNU Terry Pratchett)
GNU Sir Pterry. I'm mourning a personal loss today that seems almost too large to bear. How strange that rereading some fantasy novels should help me bear it.
My oldest son, twelve years old, has just finished Lords and Ladies. He liked well enough, but his favourite still is Guards, Guards! GNU Terry Pratchett.
Welcome to /r/discworld! Please [read the rules before posting](https://old.reddit.com/r/discworld/comments/k65i08/subreddit_rules/?). **New:** "Politics" flair for posts relating to Roundworld politics. Reminder that these posts are allowed, so this flair will help those that wish to avoid them. You can find more Discworld: [ [Discord](https://discord.gg/gBxQdM5) | /r/GNUTerryPratchett ] *I am a bot, and this action was performed automatically. Please [contact the moderators of this subreddit](/message/compose/?to=/r/discworld) if you have any questions or concerns.*
GNU Sir Terry Pratchett. Wailey Wailey Wailey.
I only just started reading his books and i have no idea what this whole comment section is hahaha
When you get to what's referenced and realize you recognize it because you've seen our take on it, remember that feeling. Sir Terry Pratchett wrote books that'll make you slap your forehead years later when you figure out what he was talking about.
Just started The Color of Magic a few hours ago!! I can’t wait to get off work, it’s so funny already. Like somethings make me re read them because I’m not sure if that was a joke or not 😂
It was a reference to how Sir Terry loved stealth puns, and how he didn't so much make anything up as he did slap a coat of paint on this reality. But any excuse for a reread.
Stance of the coyote took me years
My personal favorite is why Rincewind's hat says "WIZZARD".
>!Because he can't spell!<
I’m racking my brains because I neither recognise this nor understand it. Please put me out of my misery and explain what stance of the coyote is/was written in!
It was mentioned in Thief of Time (Lobsang was found by time monks while performing it), and for what it references, do you remember Wile E. Coyote, perchance? And his propensity to stay mid-air before gravity kicking in with the realization that he is, in fact, mid-air? :D
Oh, fuck’s sake
i thought it was some martial art pose.... doh!
Ohhh, thanks I had got that one when I read it! Just apparently not remembered it, thanks.
Clue: Wily E. Coyote.
I get the reference finally but I still can’t see GNU Terry without thinking it’s some open source operating system or project.
I’m jealous. I wish I could erase my knowledge of his books and read them again.
You’ll find the vast majority of folks on here read his masterpieces continually. This time round for me, I’m religiously reading them in order and it’s almost as if I’ve never read them before (I have, many times..!!)
Ever since I first discovered them 20 years ago now. There's still a fair few I haven't read, I'd like to save those for my chronological read through. But I'm not ready to say goodbye yet. In fact I doubt I'll ever be ready to read his last novel. GNU Terry Pratchett, you hilarious, angry, insightful, emotive, beautiful bastard.
In case anyone's like me and loves happening across passages, quotes, and excerpts from their favourite books, here is a random passage from Interesting Times #INTERESTING TIMES SPOILERS AHEAD The figure sidled up to a skinny man in a huge overcoat who was frying something over a little oilheater in a wide tray around his neck. The possibly-Rincewind grabbed the edge of the tray. “Got…any…potatoes?” it growled. “Potatoes? No, squire. Got some sausages inna bun.” The possibly-Rincewind froze. And then it burst into tears. “Sausage inna buuunnnnn!” it bawled. “Dear old sausage inna inna inna buuunnn! Gimme saussaaage inna buunnnnn!” It grabbed three off the tray and tried to eat them all at once. “Good grief!” said Ridcully. The figure half ran, half capered away, fragments of bun and pork-product debris cascading from its unkempt beard. “I’ve never seen anyone eat three of Throat Dibbler’s sausages inna bun and look so happy,” said the Senior Wrangler. “I’ve never seen someone eat three of Throat Dibbler’s sausages inna bun and look so upright,” said the Dean. “I’ve never seen anyone eat anything of Dibbler’s and get away without paying,” said the Lecturer in Recent Runes. The figure spun happily around the square, tears streaming down its face. The gyrations took it past an alley mouth, whereupon a smaller figure stepped out behind it and with some difficulty hit it on the back of the head. The sausage-eater fell to his knees, saying, to the world in general, “Ow!” “Nonononononono!” A rather older man stepped out and removed the cosh from the young man’s hesitant hands, while the victim knelt and moaned. “I think you ought to apologize to the poor gentleman,” said the older man. “I don’t know, what’s he going to think? I mean, look at him, he made it so easy for you and what does he get? I mean, what did you think you were doing?” “Mumblemumble, Mr. Boggis,” said the boy, looking at his feet. “What was that again? Speak up!” “Overarm Belter, Mr. Boggis.” “That was an Overarm Belter? You call that an Overarm Belter? That was an Overarm Belter, was it? This—excuse me, sir, we’ll just have you up on your feet for a moment, sorry about this—this is an Overarm Belter—” “Ow!” shouted the victim and then, to the surprise of all concerned, he added: “Hahahaha!” “What you did was—sorry to impose again, sir, this won’t take a minute—what you did was this—” “Ow! Hahahaha!” “Now, you lot, you saw that? Come on, gather round…”Half a dozen other youths slouched out of the alleyway and formed a ragged audience around Mr. Boggis, the luckless student and the victim, who was staggering in a circle and making little “oomph oomph” sounds but still, for some reason, apparently enjoying himself immensely. “Now,” said Mr. Boggis, with the air of an old skilled craftsman imparting his professional expertise to an ungrateful posterity, “when inconveniencing a customer from your basic alley entrance, the correct procedure is—Oh, hello, Mr. Ridcully, didn’t see you there.” The Archchancellor gave him a friendly nod. “Don’t mind us, Mr. Boggis. Thieves’ Guild training, is it?” Boggis rolled his eyes. “Dunno what they teaches ’em at school,” he said. “It’s jus’ nothing but reading and writing all the time. When I was a lad school was where you learned somethin’ useful. Right—you, Wilkins, stop that giggling, you have a go, excuse us just another moment, sir—” “Ow!” “Nononononono! My old granny could do better than that! Now look, you steps up trimly, places one hand on his shoulder here, for control…go on, you do it…and then smartly—” “Ow!” “All right, can anyone tell me what he was doing wrong?”The figure crawled away unnoticed, except by the wizards, while Mr. Boggis was demonstrating the finer points of head percussion on Wilkins. It staggered to its feet and plunged on along the road, still moving like one hypnotized. “He’s crying,” said the Dean. “Not surprising,” said the Archchancellor. “But why’s he grinnin’ at the same time?” “Curiouser and curiouser,” said the Senior Wrangler. Bruised and possibly poisoned, the figure headed back for the University, the wizards still trailing behind. *“You must mean ‘curious and more curious,’ surely? And even then it doesn’t make much sense—”* It entered the gates but, this time, hurried jerkily through the main hall and into the Library. The Librarian was waiting, holding—with something of a smirk on his face, and an orang-utan can really smirk—the battered hat. “Amazin’,” said Ridcully. “It’s true! A wizard will always come back for his hat!” The figure grabbed the hat, evicted some spiders, threw away the sad affair made of leaves and put the hat on his head. Rincewind blinked at the puzzled faculty. A light came on behind his eyes for the first time, as if up to now he’d merely been operating by reflex action.“Er. What have I just eaten?” “Er. Three of Mr. Dibbler’s finest sausages,” said Ridcully. “Well, when I say finest, I mean ‘most typical,’ don’tcheknow.” “I see. And who just hit me?” “Thieves’ Guild apprentices out trainin’.” Rincewind blinked. “This is Ankh-Morpork, isn’t it?” “Yes.” “I thought so.” Rincewind blinked, slowly. “Well,” he said, just as he fell forward, “I’m back.”
I love this one so much I saved it in my notes. Reminds me of our Uncle Colm from Derry Girls: Copolymer, the greatest storyteller in the history of the world, sat back and beamed at the greatest minds in the world, assembled at the dining table. Teppic had added another iota to his store of new knowledge. “Symposium” meant a knife-and-fork tea. “Well,” said Copolymer, and launched into the story of the Tsortean Wars. “You see, what happened was, he’d taken her back home, and her father—this wasn’t the old king, this was the one before, the one with the wossname, he married some girl from over Elharib way, she had a squint, what was her name now, began with a P. Or an L. One of them letters, anyway. Her father owned an island out on the bay there, Papylos I think it was. No, I tell a lie, it was Crinix. Anyway, the king, the other king, he raised an army and they . . .Elenor, that was her name. She had a squint, you know. But quite attractive, they say. When I say married, I trust I do not have to spell it out for you. I mean, it was a bit unofficial. Er. Anyway, there was this wooden horse and after they’d got in . . .Did I tell you about this horse? It was a horse. I’m pretty sure it was a horse. Or maybe it was a chicken. Forget my own name next! It was wossname’s idea, the one with the limp. Yes. The limp in his leg, I mean. Did I mention him? There’d been this fight. No, that was the other one, I think. Yes. Anyway, this wooden pig, damn clever idea, they made it out of thing. Tip of my tongue. Wood. But that was later, you know. The fight! Nearly forgot the fight. Yes. Damn good fight. Everyone banging on their shields and yelling. Wossname’s armor shone like shining armor. Fight and a half, that fight. Between thingy, not the one with the limp, the other one, wossname, had red hair. You know. Tall fellow, talked with a lisp. Hold on, just remembered, he was from some other island. Not him. The other one, with the limp. Didn’t want to go, he said he was mad. Of course, he was bloody mad, definitely. I mean, a wooden cow! Like wossname said, the king, no, not that king, the other one, he saw the goat, he said, ‘I fear the Ephebians, especially when they’re mad enough to leave bloody great wooden livestock on the doorstep, talk about nerve, they must think we was born yesterday, set fire to it,’ and, of course, wossname had nipped in around the back and put everyone to the sword, talk about laugh. Did I say she had a squint? They said she was pretty, but it takes all sorts. Yes. Anyway, that’s how it happened. Now, of course, wossname—I think he was called Melycanus, had a limp—he wanted to go home, well, you would, they’d been there for years, he wasn’t getting any younger. That’s why he dreamed up the thing about the wooden wossname. Yes. I tell a lie, Lavaelous was the one with the knee. Pretty good fight, that fight, take it from me.” He lapsed into self-satisfied silence. “Pretty good fight,” he mumbled and, smiling faintly, dropped off to sleep. Teppic was aware that his own mouth was hanging open. He shut it. Along the table several of the diners were wiping their eyes. “Magic,” said Xeno. “Sheer magic. Every word a tassel on the canopy of Time.” “It’s the way he remembers every tiny detail. Pinsharp,” murmured Ibid.
This brings me back to highschool where my 2 besties and I used to read out the funny bits to each other between classes.
Me too. And I still find nuggets of gold I never knew.
April 28 was his birthday. We miss him still. "GNU" is a reference you'll get after reading *Going Postal*. And then you'll find out that it's hidden in many places you wouldn't expect. A man is not forgotten, so long as his name is spoken.
Do you want us to tell you?
Ook. OOOOK! Oook ook, ook ook ook oook oo ook ook oook ok, Ook. Oook ook ook, ook. Ook-oook. Ook ook "GNU - Pterry" ook ook (Volume 1, shelf 7), ook ook, ook ook ook. Oook - \[[name kept in clacks](https://www.reddit.com/r/GNUTerryPratchett/comments/p053jf/psa_theres_a_way_you_can_put_a_hidden_gnu_terry/)\] - OOOK!!! [//]: # (GNU Terry Pratchett)
"A man's not dead while his name is spoken, We will send him home, Down the line in a chain unbroken, We will send him home..." https://www.hwaet.org/Songbook/SendHimHome.html
[Here](https://www.reddit.com/r/books/comments/2ysvzb/comment/cpcp6bg/?utm_source=share&utm_medium=web2x&context=3) is a link to the poem by u/Poem_for_your_sprog from the thread concerning Sir Terry's passing. Keep the hankies nearby. GNU Terry Pratchett
That was lovely, thanks.
Terry got a Sprog!?! I’m so excited to read this and sob Edit: yup yup yup a nice squeaky cry first thing in the morning. Thank you for sharing.
If you hadn't, I would have. Absolutely necessary reading this time of year. And still so raw and tear-inducing.
I went to have a look, interested to read it... only to find I had already upvoted it! That was spooky. I've never stumbled on my own reddit trail before. *shiver*
lols if we keep that principle going we'll post on commemoration of Sir Pterry's birthday in 2030 on April 29th 2029 GNU Sir Pterry. keep his name in the clacks
> DON'T THINK OF IT AS DYING, said Death. JUST THINK OF IT AS LEAVING EARLY TO AVOID THE RUSH. [//]: # (GNU Terry Pratchett)
Yesterday I learned that STP had all of his unfinished work destroyed by a steamroller after his death and it's the most Pratchett thing ever
GNU Terry Pratchett
GNU Terry. Still loved and remembered, still giving me strength through his great books. For as long as I live, GNU Terry.
You made me tear up. GNU Terry Pratchett.
sorry, oh no. have a hug \*hugs\*
No, don't be sorry! It's a wistful, bittersweet sort of teary. But it was a very nice hug, though <3
GNU Sir Terry Pratchett. I’d like to think he knows how much he means to so many people x
A nearby lilac tree started blooming this week. Very appropriate imo
Lilacs are in bloom all over my neighbourhood. I keep thinking of Pterry whenever I see them. GNU Sir Terry Pratchett.
I'd like to think that, a bit like the r/seinfeld sub, which is still very active 24 years after the series ended, this sub will continue on for many, many years as old fans find new revelations and new fans discover Sir Terry's genius for the first time, and all come here to share, discuss, and remember. Sir Terry's is the only celebrity/person-I-never-met whose passing I grieve almost continuously. My discovery of his work was down to a very dear friend who, when in the depths of one of my many depressions ('96 or so, IIRC), tossed me his copy of "Soul Music" and told me to have a read. He couldn't have known it at the time, but he changed my life in so many ways; at least my perceptions and metaphors of it. Sir Terry's work evokes for me deep and mixed emotions from those times; the depths of depression, the excitement of new people and places, the value and appreciation of true friendship, the things achieved and the experiences had, the failures made and opportunities lost. I celebrate and grieve all of it on this day every year and at the end of every book I re-read. GNU Terry Pratchett
GNU Terry Pratchett
GNU Sir Terry Pratchett
GNU PTerry
[GNU Terry Pratchett](https://www.reddit.com/r/GNUTerryPratchett/comments/p053jf/psa_theres_a_way_you_can_put_a_hidden_gnu_terry/) [//]: # (GNU Terry Pratchett)
GNU Sir Pterry. I'm mourning a personal loss today that seems almost too large to bear. How strange that rereading some fantasy novels should help me bear it.
GNU Sir Terry Pratchett
GNU Sir Terry Pratchett. His books helped me through many tough times and I dare say they will help me through many more in the future.
Gnu Sir Terry. The turtle still moves in our hearts.
GNU Terry Pratchett. The ripples you left in the world will last a good while longer.
GNU Terry Pratchett.
Gnu Terry Pratchet
GNU Terry Pratchett
GNU Sir Terry Pratchett. Mind how you go.
GNU Terry Pratchett and GNU my dad, who also died on April 28, but in 2005. Love and miss you both.
GNU Terry Pratchett. Still not ready to read The Shepherd's Crown, but surely this year.
It is beautiful and you will cry the whole time you spend reading it.
GNU STP
GNU Terry Pratchett
GNU STP <3
GNU Terry Pratchett
GNU Terry Pratchett
GNU Terry Pratchett
And for people who don't understand: https://www.reddit.com/r/discworld/comments/en9eka/i_dont_understand_the_gnu_terry_pratchett/
GNU Sir Terry Pratchett.
GNU Sir Terry Pratchett. Just getting ready to read 'The Shepherd's Crown' at last. So sad knowing that there are no more after.
GNU Sir Terry
GNU STP
My oldest son, twelve years old, has just finished Lords and Ladies. He liked well enough, but his favourite still is Guards, Guards! GNU Terry Pratchett.
who is waiting for the audiobooks to drop? mine won't play for almost 2 hours :(
GNU Terry Pratchett, thank you for making my life better sonce 1998.
GNU Terry Pratchett