'Only in stories,' said Granny, examining the door hinges. 'And she thinks she's in charge of the stories. She bends them around herself. She thinks she's the good one.'
'Mind you,' said Magrat, 'I don't like swamps. If it wasn't for the frog and everything, I'd see Lily's point–'
'Then you're nothing but a daft godmother,' snapped Granny, still fiddling with the lock. 'You can't go around building a better world for people. Only people can build a better world for people. Otherwise it's just a cage. Besides, you don't build a better world by choppin' heads off and giving decent girls away to frogs.'
'But progress–' Magrat began.
'Don't you talk to me about progress. Progress just means bad things happen faster. Anyone got another hatpin? This one's useless.'
Nanny, who had Greebo's ability to make herself instantly at home wherever she happened to be, sat down in the corner of the cell.
[*Greebo is a tomcat.]
-- Terry Pratchett, Witches Abroad, p.250
'I heard this story once,' she said, 'where this bloke got locked up for years and years and he learned amazin' stuff about the universe and everythin' from another prisoner who was incredibly clever, and then he escaped and got his revenge.'
'What incredibly clever stuff do you know about the universe, Gytha Ogg? said Granny.
'Bugger all,' said Nanny cheerfully.
'Then we'd better bloddy well escape right now.'