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1 " William groaned. It was Vimes. Worse, he was smiling, in a humourless predatory way." Ah, Mr de Worde," he said, stepping inside. " There are several thousand dogs stampeding through the city at the moment. This is an interesting fact, isn't it?" He leaned against the wall and produced a cigar. " Well, I say dogs," he said, striking a match on Goodmountain's helmet. " Mostly dogs, perhaps I should say. Some cats. More cats now, in fact, 'cos, hah, there's nothing like a, yes, a tidal wave of dogs, fighting and biting and howling, to sort of, how can I put it, give a city a certain . . . busyness. Especially underfoot,because - did I mention it? -they're very nervous dogs too. Oh, and did I mention cattle?" he went on, conversationally. " You know how it is, market day and so on, people are driving the cows and, my goodness, around the corner comes a wall of wailing dogs . . . Oh, and I forgot about the sheep. And the chickens, although I imagine there's not much left of the chickens now. "
2 " Weeping for the dead's a waste of breath -they're lucky, they can't die again. "
― Tony Harrison
