So, I’m in the middle of my annual re-reading of Hogfather; and as an early Hogswatch gift, and because I can’t think of a better tribute to the Master in light of the recent news, I thought I’d share a couple of the (many) choice little gems in what I consider to be his most spiritual book.
Ridcully, after a few more trial runs, settled on a song which evolves somewhere on every planet where there are winters. It’s often dragooned into the service of some local religion and a few words are changed, but it’s really about things that have to do with gods only in the same way that roots have to do with leaves. “-the rising of the sun, and the running of the deer-”
Gods don’t die. Don’t completely die… There’s always somewhere[,] inside some stone, perhaps, or the words of a song, or riding in the mind of some animal, or maybe in a whisper on the wind… Dead, perhaps, but only like the world in winter.
“So why, every year, do we hang a damn great bunch of mistletoe up there?”
“Well, er… it’s… well, it’s… it’s symbolic…”
“Of… the leaves, d’y’see… they’re symbolic of… of green, d’y’see, whereas the berries, in fact, yes, the berries symbolize… symbolize white. Yes. White and green. Very… symbolic.”
“I’m not sure there has to be an of.”
“Ah? So, it could be said that the white and green symbolize a small parasitic plant?”
“So mistletoe, in fact, symbolizes mistletoe?”
“Funny thing, that. That statement is either so deep it would take a lifetime to fully comprehend every particle of its meaning, or it is a load of absolute tosh. Which is it, I wonder?”
Humans need fantasy to be human. To be the place where the falling angel meets the rising ape.
You need to believe in things that aren’t true. How else can they become?