Vincent van Gogh Fishing in Spring

Vincent van Gogh Fishing in SpringUnknown Artist Ranson Apple Tree with Red FruitUnknown Artist Spring is in the AirSalvador Dali The Great Masturbator
knew there was such a thing as heroic odds. Songs and ballads and stories and poems were full of stories about one person single-handedly taking on and defeating a vast number of enemies.
Only now was it dawning on her that the trouble was that they were songs and ballads and stories and poems because they dealt with things that were, not to put too fine a point on it, untrue.

Terry Pratchett
She couldn’t, now she had time to think about it, ever remember an example from history.
In the woods to onethen its world flowed away from it...
This is the inside of the mind of an elf:
Here are the normal five senses but they are all subordi-nate to the sixth sense. There is no formal word for it on the Discworld, because the force is so weak that it is only ever encountered by observant blacksmiths, who call it the Love of Iron. Navigators might have discovered it were it not that the Disc’s standing magical field is much more reliable. But bees sense side of her an elf raised its bow and took careful aim.A twig snapped behind it. It turned.The Bursar beamed.“Whoopsy daisy, old trouser, my bean’s all runny.”The elf swung the bow.A pair of prehensile feet dropped out of the greenery, gripped it by the shoulders, and pulled it upward sharply. There was a crack as its head hit the underside of a branch.“Oook.”“Move right along!”On the other side of the path another elf took aim. And