“So, what, you got cigarette burns, too?" Gitanes said.

Chip showed his palm, "It's nothing."

"Self-inflicted. You pathetic American."

"Different kind of prison" Chip said.”

“Crap, are you thinking what I'm thinking?"

"I'm thinking we have about fifteen vampires and no blood," Claire said. "Is that it?"

"No, I was thinking we're out of chips. Of course that's what I was thinking.”

“I get it,' said the prisoner. 'Good Cop, Bad Cop, eh?'
If you like.' said Vimes. 'But we're a bit short staffed here, so if I give you a cigarette would you mind kicking yourself in the teeth?”

“They say a carpenter's known by his chips.”

“What dya mean theres no fackin chips, I come ere on a plane, you cunt! I've got children ere, what am I spose to do with this fackin tomato fiasco.”

“The American Indians were Communists. They were. Every anthropologist will tell you they were Communists. No rich, no poor. If somebody needed something the community chipped in.”

“I’ve gotten kicked in the face, got my nose broken, I’m constantly chipping teeth and there’s been a lot of very close calls with Hunter [the band’s bassist]. In a recent show, if our movement had’ve been inches different, I might be dead. I almost caught his bass to my head at full velocity. You laugh but it’s really scary.”

“Murder is like potato chips: you can't stop with just one.”

“You are so proud of your intelligence," said the master. "You are like a like a condemned man, proud of the vastness of his prison cell.”

“You will tell me what you know now," he said.

"Or?"

He said nothing, so I elaborated. "See, this kind of threat usually has an 'or' attached to it. Or an 'and'. 'Tell me and I'll allow you to live' or something like that.”