There's No Point In Killing

It Looked The Sort Of Book Described In Library Catalogues As 'slightly Foxed,' Although It Would Be More Honest To Admit That It Looked As Though It Had Beed Badgered, Wolved And Possibly Beared As Well.

Even The Blind And Meek And Voiceless Have Gods.

Dwarfs Were Not A Naturally Religious Species, But In A World Where Pit Props Could Crack Without Warning And Pockets Of Fire Damp Could Suddenly Explode They'd Seen The Need For Gods As The Sort Of Supernatural Equivalent Of A Hard Hat. Besides, When You Hit Your Thumb With An Eight-pound Hammer It's Nice To Be Able To Blaspheme. It Takes A Very Special And Strong-minded Kind Of Atheist To Jump Up And Down With Their Hand Clasped Under Their Other Armpit And Shout, "oh, Random-fluctuations-in-the-space-time-continuum!" Or "aaargh, Primitive-and-outmoded-concept On A Crutch!

Where's The Pleasure In Bein' The Winner If The Loser Ain't Alive To Know They've Lost?

Aziraphale. The Enemy, Of Course. But An Enemy For Six Thousand Years Now, Which Made Him A Sort Of Friend.