People think I’m a Weatherwax, but I’m mostly a Magrat. I’d like to be a Nanny, sometimes, but that will never be.
The man who brought me those ladies, showed them into my kitchen and let them explore the corners and probably raid the sugar bowl, has gone.
His words, though…his awesome words are Still Here. And will be for as long as we all keep them circulating.
They contained so many life lessons, it’s impossible to list them all, and I shouldn’t.
Go READ. Go find out the magic that he wove, make a scone with a bat on it, listen to music with rocks in, and keep that How Very Dare You anger that he held inside him bubbling beneath the surface.
Of COURSE girls can be Wizards. And orangutans can be whatever the hell they want to be, given the opportunity. Elves are still mad, bad and beautiful to know and the storm clouds will still want to show you what they can do.
Trudge, stride, amble or fly through his worlds, however you traverse them is your choice but read, enjoy, and learn.
He showed us a way of thinking, inverted thinking sometimes, but he gave us the characters that enabled us to see/hear/think/feel in many more ways than we did before.
I will always have a place in my heart for the immense mind that caused me to cry with laughter, and sadness, mostly on the train, and always at the most inconvenient moments.
We can go waily waily waily with the best of them, but we can also go forth, knowing that someone goes there before us, who knows much more than we do, and will hopefully guide us when we get there. Or lead us off a cliff.
Pterry – dream well.
What? Oh I’m sorry. Yes. Ook.
art by Paul Kidby