I am a carbon-based biped.
Far out in the uncharted backwaters of the unfashionable end of the Western spiral arm of the galaxy lies a small unregarded yellow sun. Orbiting this, at a distance of roughly ninety million miles is an utterly insignificant little blue-green planet. 
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"In a distant and second-hand set of dimensions, in an astral plane that was never meant to fly, the curling star-mists waver and part ... See .. Great A'Tuin the turtle comes, swimming slowly through the interstellar gulf, hydrogen frost on his ponderous limbs"
‘My name is immaterial,’ she said. ‘That's a pretty name,’ said Rincewind.
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“The ships hung in the sky in much the same way that bricks don't.”
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