He talks pretty big for a gutter wizard," he muttered."You don't understand at all," said the wizard wearily. "I'm so scared of you my spine has turned to jelly, it's just that I'm suffering from an overdose of terror right now. I mean, when I've got over that then I'll have time to be decently frightened of you.

Perhaps it was the spell, in its years of living in Rincewind's head, that affected his eyes. Perhaps his time with Twoflower, who only saw things as they ought to be, had taught him to see things as they are.

[Rincewind] drew his sword and, with a smooth overarm throw, completely failed to hit the troll.

That bit where that lad sprang backwards right across the room with them axes in his hands was impressive, though.""Yeah.""You didn't ought to have stuck your sword out like that, I thought.""He's learned an important lesson.""It won't do him much good now where he's gone.

He found that he had this sudden desperate longing for the fuming, smoky streets of Ankh-Morpork, which was always at its best in the spring, when the gummy sheen on the turbid waters of the Ankh River had a special iridescence and the eaves were full of birdsong, or at least birds coughing rhythmically

Rincewind wasn't used to people being pleased to see him. It was unnatural, and boded no good. These people were not only cheering, they were throwing flowers and hats. The hats were made out of stone, but the thought was there.

Potrafił nawet - w przeciwieństwie do większości znanych Rincewindowi bohaterów - używać słów dłuższych niż dwusylabowe... jeśli dało mu się dość czasu i podpowiedziało raz czy dwa.