Gustav Klimt The MusicGustav Klimt The FriendsGustav Klimt The Beethoven FriezeGustav Klimt Sea Serpents
'People think it'd be the Fools or the Assassins. Ask anyone. They'll say "the oldest Guild in Ankh-Morpork is certainly the Fools' Guild or the Assassins' Guild". But they aren't. They're quite recent. But there's been a Beggars' Guild for centuries.'of the murderous, evil-minded, self-centred individuals they suspect themselves to be. But the point was that if Carrot had erupted into a song and dance, people would have joined in. Carrot could have jollied a circle of standing stones to form up behind him and do a rumba.
'There's some very interesting old statuary in the main courtyard,' he said. 'Including a very good one of Jimi, the God of Beggars. I'll show you. They won't mind.'
He rapped on the door.'Really?' said Angua, weakly. In the last hour she'd learned more about Ankh-Morpork than any reasonable person wanted to know. She vaguely suspected that Carrot was trying to court her. But, instead of the usual flowers or chocolate, he seemed to be trying to gift-wrap a city.And, despite all her better instincts, she was feeling jealous. Of a city! Ye gods, I've known him a couple of days!It was the way he wore the place. You expected him any moment to break into the kind of song that has suspicious rhymes and phrases like 'my kind of town' and 'I wanna be a part of it' in it; the kind of song where people dance in the street and give the singer apples and join in and a dozen lowly matchgirls suddenly show amazing choreo-graphical ability and everyone acts like cheery lovable citizens instead
Tuesday, April 28, 2009
Claude Monet Cliffs near Dieppe 2
Claude Monet Cliffs near Dieppe 2Claude Monet ZaandamClaude Monet Woman Seated under the WillowsClaude Monet Water-Lilies 1917
smell anything,' Angua lied.
'Liar,' said the voice.
'Or hear anything.'
Captain – silent, owlish, polite dwarfs. The news had got around. He wasn't telling anyone anything they didn't know. Many of them were holding weapons. Mr Strong-inthearm was there. Captain Vimes had talked to him before about his speeches on the subject of the need for grinding all trolls in little bits and using them to make roads. But the dwarf wasn't saying anything now. He was just looking smug. There was an air of quiet, polite menace, that said: We'll listen to you. Then we'll do what we decide to do.
He hadn't even been sure which one was Mrs Ham-merhock. They all looked Vimes' boots told him he was in Scoone Avenue. His feet were doing the walking of their own volition; his mind was somewhere else. In fact, some of it was dissolving gently in Jimkin Bearhugger's finest nectar. If only they hadn't been so damn polite! There were a number of things he'd seen in his life which he'd always try, without success, to forget. Up until now he would have put, at the top of the list, looking at the tonsils of a giant dragon as it drew the breath intended to turn him into a small pile of impure charcoal. He still woke up sweating at the memory of the little pilot light. But he dreaded now that it was going to be replaced by the recollection of all those impassive dwarf faces, watching him politely, and the feeling that his words were dropping into a deep pit.After all, what could he say? 'Sorry he's dead – and that's official. We're putting our worst men on the case' ?The late Bjorn Hammerhock's house had been full of dwarfs
smell anything,' Angua lied.
'Liar,' said the voice.
'Or hear anything.'
Captain – silent, owlish, polite dwarfs. The news had got around. He wasn't telling anyone anything they didn't know. Many of them were holding weapons. Mr Strong-inthearm was there. Captain Vimes had talked to him before about his speeches on the subject of the need for grinding all trolls in little bits and using them to make roads. But the dwarf wasn't saying anything now. He was just looking smug. There was an air of quiet, polite menace, that said: We'll listen to you. Then we'll do what we decide to do.
He hadn't even been sure which one was Mrs Ham-merhock. They all looked Vimes' boots told him he was in Scoone Avenue. His feet were doing the walking of their own volition; his mind was somewhere else. In fact, some of it was dissolving gently in Jimkin Bearhugger's finest nectar. If only they hadn't been so damn polite! There were a number of things he'd seen in his life which he'd always try, without success, to forget. Up until now he would have put, at the top of the list, looking at the tonsils of a giant dragon as it drew the breath intended to turn him into a small pile of impure charcoal. He still woke up sweating at the memory of the little pilot light. But he dreaded now that it was going to be replaced by the recollection of all those impassive dwarf faces, watching him politely, and the feeling that his words were dropping into a deep pit.After all, what could he say? 'Sorry he's dead – and that's official. We're putting our worst men on the case' ?The late Bjorn Hammerhock's house had been full of dwarfs
Sunday, April 26, 2009
Leonardo da Vinci Annunciation
Leonardo da Vinci AnnunciationThomas Kinkade Seaside VillageThomas Kinkade Bridge of HopeEdward Hopper SummertimeEdward Hopper Night Windows
dawned on the Patrician that he was working on both ends of this conversation. He shuffled through the papers on his desk.
'And of course I shall have to promote a new chief officer for the Night Watch,' said the Patrician. 'Have you any suggestions, 'Try it one more time, Lance-Constable Detritus,' he said. 'The trick is, you stops your hand just above your ear. Now, just get up off the floor and try salutin' one more time. Now, then . . . Lance-Constable Cuddy?'
'Here!'captain?'Vimes appeared to descend from whatever cloud his mind had been occupying. This was guard work.'Well, not Fred Colon . . . He's one of Nature's sergeants . . .' Sergeant Colon, Ankh-Morpork City Guard (Night Watch) surveyed the bright faces of the new recruits.He sighed. He remembered his first day. Old Sergeant Wimbler. What a tartar! Tongue like a whiplash! If the old boy had lived to see this . . .What was it called? Oh, yeah. Affirmative action hirin' procedure, or something. Silicon Anti-Defamation League had been going on at the Patrician, and now—
dawned on the Patrician that he was working on both ends of this conversation. He shuffled through the papers on his desk.
'And of course I shall have to promote a new chief officer for the Night Watch,' said the Patrician. 'Have you any suggestions, 'Try it one more time, Lance-Constable Detritus,' he said. 'The trick is, you stops your hand just above your ear. Now, just get up off the floor and try salutin' one more time. Now, then . . . Lance-Constable Cuddy?'
'Here!'captain?'Vimes appeared to descend from whatever cloud his mind had been occupying. This was guard work.'Well, not Fred Colon . . . He's one of Nature's sergeants . . .' Sergeant Colon, Ankh-Morpork City Guard (Night Watch) surveyed the bright faces of the new recruits.He sighed. He remembered his first day. Old Sergeant Wimbler. What a tartar! Tongue like a whiplash! If the old boy had lived to see this . . .What was it called? Oh, yeah. Affirmative action hirin' procedure, or something. Silicon Anti-Defamation League had been going on at the Patrician, and now—
Friday, April 24, 2009
Pierre Auguste Renoir The Umbrellas
Pierre Auguste Renoir The UmbrellasPierre Auguste Renoir Les baigneusesPierre Auguste Renoir By the SeashoreThomas Kinkade Victorian Autumn
just soft and shiny. Pretty to look at and no damn use at all,” said Granny, her voice still quite calm and level. “But this is a real world, madam. That’s what I had to learn. And real people in it. You got no right to ‘em. People’ve got enough to cope with just being people. They don’t need you swanking around with your shiny hair and shiny eyes and shiny
times. But I ain’t having elves here. You make us want what
we can’t have and what you give us is worth nothing and
281
Terry Pratchett
what you take is everything and all there is left for us is the cold hillside, and emptiness, and the laughter of the elves.”gold, going sideways through life, always young, always singing, never learning.”“You didn’t always think like this.”“That was a long time ago. And, my lady, old I may be,and hag I may be, but stupid I ain’t. You’re no kind of god-dess. I ain’t against gods and goddesses, in their place. Butthey’ve got to be the ones we make ourselves. Then we cantake ‘em to bits for the parts when we don’t need ‘em any-more, see? And elves far away in fairyland, well, maybe that’ssomething people need to get ‘emselves through the iron
just soft and shiny. Pretty to look at and no damn use at all,” said Granny, her voice still quite calm and level. “But this is a real world, madam. That’s what I had to learn. And real people in it. You got no right to ‘em. People’ve got enough to cope with just being people. They don’t need you swanking around with your shiny hair and shiny eyes and shiny
times. But I ain’t having elves here. You make us want what
we can’t have and what you give us is worth nothing and
281
Terry Pratchett
what you take is everything and all there is left for us is the cold hillside, and emptiness, and the laughter of the elves.”gold, going sideways through life, always young, always singing, never learning.”“You didn’t always think like this.”“That was a long time ago. And, my lady, old I may be,and hag I may be, but stupid I ain’t. You’re no kind of god-dess. I ain’t against gods and goddesses, in their place. Butthey’ve got to be the ones we make ourselves. Then we cantake ‘em to bits for the parts when we don’t need ‘em any-more, see? And elves far away in fairyland, well, maybe that’ssomething people need to get ‘emselves through the iron
Wednesday, April 22, 2009
childe hassam Wayside Inn Sudbury Massachusetts
childe hassam Wayside Inn Sudbury MassachusettsEdgar Degas Cafe Concert SingerEdgar Degas A Carriage at the Races
years ago my granny telling me about Queen Amonia, well, I say queen, but she never was queen except for about three hours because of what I’m about to unfold, on account of them playing hide-and-seek at the wedding party and her hiding in a big heavy old chest in some attic and the lid slamming shut and no one finding her for seven months, by which time you could definitely say the wedding cake was getting a bit stale.”
Silence.
“Well, if you ain’t telling me, I can’t hang around all night,” said Nanny. “It’ll all be better in the morning, you’ll
190
I.QR08 fittO iftQ/£8
before your man. Recipe for a happy life, that is,” said Nanny, to the world in general. “Well, I’m going away now. Tell you what, I’ll come back early tomorrow, help you get ready, that sort of thing. How about it?”
Silence.see.”Silence.“Why don’t you have an early night?” said Nanny. “Our Shawn’ll do you a hot drink if you ring down. It’s a bit nippy out here, to tell you the truth. It’s amazing how these old stone places hang on to the chill.”Silence.“So I’ll be off then, shall I?” said Nanny, to the unyield-ing silence. “Not doing much good here, I can see that. Sure you don’t want to talk?”Silence.“Stand before your god, bow before your king, and kneel
years ago my granny telling me about Queen Amonia, well, I say queen, but she never was queen except for about three hours because of what I’m about to unfold, on account of them playing hide-and-seek at the wedding party and her hiding in a big heavy old chest in some attic and the lid slamming shut and no one finding her for seven months, by which time you could definitely say the wedding cake was getting a bit stale.”
Silence.
“Well, if you ain’t telling me, I can’t hang around all night,” said Nanny. “It’ll all be better in the morning, you’ll
190
I.QR08 fittO iftQ/£8
before your man. Recipe for a happy life, that is,” said Nanny, to the world in general. “Well, I’m going away now. Tell you what, I’ll come back early tomorrow, help you get ready, that sort of thing. How about it?”
Silence.see.”Silence.“Why don’t you have an early night?” said Nanny. “Our Shawn’ll do you a hot drink if you ring down. It’s a bit nippy out here, to tell you the truth. It’s amazing how these old stone places hang on to the chill.”Silence.“So I’ll be off then, shall I?” said Nanny, to the unyield-ing silence. “Not doing much good here, I can see that. Sure you don’t want to talk?”Silence.“Stand before your god, bow before your king, and kneel
Tuesday, April 21, 2009
Pop art miles 1960, on blue
Pop art miles 1960, on bluePop art long stage rayPop art lazy afternoon
coach slowed to a halt in front of the barricade across the road.
The bandit chieftain adjusted his eyepatch. He had two good eyes, but people respect uniforms. Then he strolled toward the coach.
“Morning, Jim. What’ve we got today, then?”
“Uh. This a robbery,” he said. “I’d like you to think of it more as a colorful anecdote you might enjoy telling your grandchildren about.”
A voice from within said, “That’s him! He stole my horse!”
A wizard’s staff poked out. The chieftain saw the knob on the end.
“Now, then,” he said, pleasantly. “I know the rules.could be difficult,” said the coachman. “Uh, there’s a handful of wizards. And a dwarf. And an ape.” He rubbed his head, and winced. “Yes. Definitely an ape. Not, and I think I should make this clear, any other kind of man-shaped thing with hair on.”“You all right, Jim?”“I’ve had this lot ever since Ankh-Morpork. Don’t talk to me about dried frog pills.”The bandit chief raised his eyebrows.“All right. I won’t.”He knocked on the coach door. The window slid down.128LORQ6 ft/YQ LfiDIEQ“I wouldn’t like you to think of this as
coach slowed to a halt in front of the barricade across the road.
The bandit chieftain adjusted his eyepatch. He had two good eyes, but people respect uniforms. Then he strolled toward the coach.
“Morning, Jim. What’ve we got today, then?”
“Uh. This a robbery,” he said. “I’d like you to think of it more as a colorful anecdote you might enjoy telling your grandchildren about.”
A voice from within said, “That’s him! He stole my horse!”
A wizard’s staff poked out. The chieftain saw the knob on the end.
“Now, then,” he said, pleasantly. “I know the rules.could be difficult,” said the coachman. “Uh, there’s a handful of wizards. And a dwarf. And an ape.” He rubbed his head, and winced. “Yes. Definitely an ape. Not, and I think I should make this clear, any other kind of man-shaped thing with hair on.”“You all right, Jim?”“I’ve had this lot ever since Ankh-Morpork. Don’t talk to me about dried frog pills.”The bandit chief raised his eyebrows.“All right. I won’t.”He knocked on the coach door. The window slid down.128LORQ6 ft/YQ LfiDIEQ“I wouldn’t like you to think of this as
Monday, April 20, 2009
Thomas Moran Autumn Landscape
Thomas Moran Autumn LandscapeThomas Moran Chicago World's FairThomas Moran A View of Venice
said Ponder, gratified at the attention, “it
appears that there was this man, right, who had to choose
between “So this was at his place, then, was it?” said Ridcully.
“What? I don’t know,” said Ponder.
“Why not? You seem to know all about it.”
“I don’t think it was anywhere. It’s a puzzle.”
“Hang on,” said Casanunda, “I think I’ve worked it out.
One question, right?”
“Yes,” said Ponder, relieved.going through two doors, apparently, and the guardon one door always told the truth and the guard on the otherdoor always told a lie, and the thing was, behind one doorwas certain death, and behind the other door was freedom,91Terry Pratchettand he didn’t know which guard was which, and he could only ask them one question and so: what did he ask?”The coach bounced over a pothole. The Librarian turned over in his sleep.“Sounds like Psychotic Lord Hargon of Quirm to me,” said Ridcully, after a while.“That’s right,” said Casanunda. “He was a devil for jokes like that. How many students can you get in an Iron Maiden, that kind of thing.”
said Ponder, gratified at the attention, “it
appears that there was this man, right, who had to choose
between “So this was at his place, then, was it?” said Ridcully.
“What? I don’t know,” said Ponder.
“Why not? You seem to know all about it.”
“I don’t think it was anywhere. It’s a puzzle.”
“Hang on,” said Casanunda, “I think I’ve worked it out.
One question, right?”
“Yes,” said Ponder, relieved.going through two doors, apparently, and the guardon one door always told the truth and the guard on the otherdoor always told a lie, and the thing was, behind one doorwas certain death, and behind the other door was freedom,91Terry Pratchettand he didn’t know which guard was which, and he could only ask them one question and so: what did he ask?”The coach bounced over a pothole. The Librarian turned over in his sleep.“Sounds like Psychotic Lord Hargon of Quirm to me,” said Ridcully, after a while.“That’s right,” said Casanunda. “He was a devil for jokes like that. How many students can you get in an Iron Maiden, that kind of thing.”
Friday, April 17, 2009
Cao Yong CAFE BELLA
Cao Yong CAFE BELLACao Yong AGE OF INNOCENCECao Yong AFTERNOON TEA
lighten up all right,” said Granny.
“Well, anyway, I don’t have to bother with this sort of thing,” said Magrat. “Whatever it is. It’s your business. I just shan’t have time, I’m sure.”
“I’m sure you can please yourself, your going-to-be-majesty,” said Granny Weatherwax.
“Hah!” said Magrat. “I can! You can jol—you can damn well find another witch for Lancre! All right? Another soppy girl to do all the dreary work and never be told anything and be talked over the head of the whole time. I’ve got better things to do!”
“Better things than being a witch?” said Granny
Magrat handle.
“Oh, no,” she said, “you don’t. Queens ride around in golden coaches and whatnot. Each to their own. Brooms is for witches.”
“Now come on, you two,” began Nanny Ogg, one of
nature’s mediators. “Anyway, someone can be a queen and awalked into it.‘ “Yes!” “Oh, dear,” murmured Nanny“Oh. Well, then I expect you’ll be wanting to be off,”25Terry Pratehettsaid Granny, her voice like knives. “Back to your palace, I’ll be bound.”“Yes!”Magrat picked up her broomstick.Granny’s arm shot out very fast and grabbed the
w—“
lighten up all right,” said Granny.
“Well, anyway, I don’t have to bother with this sort of thing,” said Magrat. “Whatever it is. It’s your business. I just shan’t have time, I’m sure.”
“I’m sure you can please yourself, your going-to-be-majesty,” said Granny Weatherwax.
“Hah!” said Magrat. “I can! You can jol—you can damn well find another witch for Lancre! All right? Another soppy girl to do all the dreary work and never be told anything and be talked over the head of the whole time. I’ve got better things to do!”
“Better things than being a witch?” said Granny
Magrat handle.
“Oh, no,” she said, “you don’t. Queens ride around in golden coaches and whatnot. Each to their own. Brooms is for witches.”
“Now come on, you two,” began Nanny Ogg, one of
nature’s mediators. “Anyway, someone can be a queen and awalked into it.‘ “Yes!” “Oh, dear,” murmured Nanny“Oh. Well, then I expect you’ll be wanting to be off,”25Terry Pratehettsaid Granny, her voice like knives. “Back to your palace, I’ll be bound.”“Yes!”Magrat picked up her broomstick.Granny’s arm shot out very fast and grabbed the
w—“
Thursday, April 16, 2009
Edgar Degas Woman Combing Her Hair
Edgar Degas Woman Combing Her HairFrederic Edwin Church The Andes of EcuadorFrederic Edwin Church Rainy Season in the Tropics
brass whistle whistled.
Simony picked up the steering ropes. This was what war should be, he thought. No uncertainty. A few more Turtles like this, and no one would ever fight again.
"Stand by," he said.
He pulled the big lever hard.
The brittle . He dropped the tool and tried to block the flow with his fingers, but it spurted around his hands and gurgled down the channel towards one of the weights.
"Stop it! Stop it!" he shouted.
"What?" said Fergmen, several feet below him.
"Stop the water!"
"How?"
"The pipe's broken!"metal snapped in his hand.Give anyone a lever long enough and they can change the world. It's unreliable levers that are the problem. In the depths of the Temple's hidden plumbing, Urn grasped a bronze pipe firmly with his spanner and gave the nut a cautious turn. It resisted. He changed position, and grunted as he used more pressure.With a sad little metal sound, the pipe twisted-and broke . . .Water gushed out, hitting him in the face
"I thought that's what we wanted to do?"
"Not yet!"
brass whistle whistled.
Simony picked up the steering ropes. This was what war should be, he thought. No uncertainty. A few more Turtles like this, and no one would ever fight again.
"Stand by," he said.
He pulled the big lever hard.
The brittle . He dropped the tool and tried to block the flow with his fingers, but it spurted around his hands and gurgled down the channel towards one of the weights.
"Stop it! Stop it!" he shouted.
"What?" said Fergmen, several feet below him.
"Stop the water!"
"How?"
"The pipe's broken!"metal snapped in his hand.Give anyone a lever long enough and they can change the world. It's unreliable levers that are the problem. In the depths of the Temple's hidden plumbing, Urn grasped a bronze pipe firmly with his spanner and gave the nut a cautious turn. It resisted. He changed position, and grunted as he used more pressure.With a sad little metal sound, the pipe twisted-and broke . . .Water gushed out, hitting him in the face
"I thought that's what we wanted to do?"
"Not yet!"
Wednesday, April 15, 2009
Vincent van Gogh The Old Mill
Vincent van Gogh The Old MillVincent van Gogh Girl in WhiteVincent van Gogh Four Cut Sunflowers
How many of them are important?"
"All of them!" said Urn.
"Maybe a couple of hundred," said Didactylos, mildly.
"Uncle! "
"All the rest is just wind and vanity publishing," said Didactylos.
"But they're books!"
"I may be able to take more than that," said Brutha slowly. "Is there a way out?"
"There . . . could be," said Didactylos.
"Don't tell him!" said Simony.
"Then all "I'm inclined to trust this person," said Didactylos. "He's got an honest face. Speaking philosophically."
"Why should we trust him?"
"Anyone stupid enough to expect us to trust him in these circumstances must be trustworthy," said Didactylos. "He'd be too stupid to be deceitful."your books will burn," said Brutha. He pointed to Simony. "He said you haven't got a choice. So you haven't got anything to lose, have you?""He's a-” Simony began."Everyone shut up," said Didactylos. He stared past Brutha's ear."There may be a way out," he said. "What do you intend?""I don't believe this!" said Urn. "There's Omnians here and you're telling them there's another way out!""There's tunnels all through this rock," said Didactylos."Maybe, but we don't tell people!"
"I can walk out of here right now," said Brutha. "And where will your Library be then?"
"You see?" said Simony.
How many of them are important?"
"All of them!" said Urn.
"Maybe a couple of hundred," said Didactylos, mildly.
"Uncle! "
"All the rest is just wind and vanity publishing," said Didactylos.
"But they're books!"
"I may be able to take more than that," said Brutha slowly. "Is there a way out?"
"There . . . could be," said Didactylos.
"Don't tell him!" said Simony.
"Then all "I'm inclined to trust this person," said Didactylos. "He's got an honest face. Speaking philosophically."
"Why should we trust him?"
"Anyone stupid enough to expect us to trust him in these circumstances must be trustworthy," said Didactylos. "He'd be too stupid to be deceitful."your books will burn," said Brutha. He pointed to Simony. "He said you haven't got a choice. So you haven't got anything to lose, have you?""He's a-” Simony began."Everyone shut up," said Didactylos. He stared past Brutha's ear."There may be a way out," he said. "What do you intend?""I don't believe this!" said Urn. "There's Omnians here and you're telling them there's another way out!""There's tunnels all through this rock," said Didactylos."Maybe, but we don't tell people!"
"I can walk out of here right now," said Brutha. "And where will your Library be then?"
"You see?" said Simony.
Tuesday, April 14, 2009
Vincent van Gogh Sunflowers
Vincent van Gogh SunflowersVincent van Gogh ReaperEdmund Blair Leighton Off
or two of the attentions of the Quisition, but now Brutha could see that he was a member of the Divine Legion; a sword was halfhidden under the desert robes.
And you had to make special allowances for Legionaries, just as you did for inquisitors. Their often intimate contact with the ungodly affected their minds and put their souls in mortal peril. He decided to be magnanimous.
about nosy bastards being given a thump alongside the ear?" said the soldier.
" `Woe unto him who raises his hand unto his brother, dealing with him as unto an Infidel,' " said Brutha. "That's Ossory, Precepts XI, verse 16."
" `Sod off and forget you ever saw us otherwise you're going to be in real trouble, my friend.' Sergeant Aktar, chapter 1, verse 1," said the soldier."And where are you going to with all these camels on this fine morning, brother?"The soldier tightened a strap."Probably to hell," he said, grinning nastily. "Just behind you.""Really? According to the word of the Prophet Ishkible, a man needs no camel to ride to hell, yea, nor horse, nor mule; a man may ride into hell on his tongue," said Brutha, letting just a tremor of disapproval enter his voice."Does some old prophet say anything
or two of the attentions of the Quisition, but now Brutha could see that he was a member of the Divine Legion; a sword was halfhidden under the desert robes.
And you had to make special allowances for Legionaries, just as you did for inquisitors. Their often intimate contact with the ungodly affected their minds and put their souls in mortal peril. He decided to be magnanimous.
about nosy bastards being given a thump alongside the ear?" said the soldier.
" `Woe unto him who raises his hand unto his brother, dealing with him as unto an Infidel,' " said Brutha. "That's Ossory, Precepts XI, verse 16."
" `Sod off and forget you ever saw us otherwise you're going to be in real trouble, my friend.' Sergeant Aktar, chapter 1, verse 1," said the soldier."And where are you going to with all these camels on this fine morning, brother?"The soldier tightened a strap."Probably to hell," he said, grinning nastily. "Just behind you.""Really? According to the word of the Prophet Ishkible, a man needs no camel to ride to hell, yea, nor horse, nor mule; a man may ride into hell on his tongue," said Brutha, letting just a tremor of disapproval enter his voice."Does some old prophet say anything
Monday, April 13, 2009
Pino remember when
Pino remember whenPablo Picasso Three WomenPablo Picasso Seated BatherPablo Picasso Mandolin and Guitar
then . . . drop you."
"Urrgh."
"No. More like . . . crack . . . splat. How did you think I got in here?"
"You were dropped? But-”
"Landed on a pile of dirt in your garden. That's eagles for you. Whole place built of rock and paved with rock on a big rock and they miss."
"That was lucky. this the priests reckoned he was on to a good thing, because most of the pilgrims were coming for the first time and therefore lacked the essential thing you needed in dealing with Dhblah, which was the experience of having dealt with him before. The sight of someone in the Place trying to unstick their jaws with dignity was a familiar one. Many a devout pilgrim, after a thousand miles of perilous journey, was forced to make his petition in sign language.Million-to-one chance," said Brutha."I never had this trouble when I was a bull. The number of eagles who can pick up a bull, you can count them on the fingers of one head. Anyway," said the tortoise, "there's worse here than eagles. There's a-”"There's good eating on one of them, you know," said a voice behind Brutha.He stood up guiltily, the tortoise in his hand."Oh, hello, Mr. Dhblah," he said.Everyone in the city knew Cut-Me-Own-Hand-Off Dhblah, purveyor of suspiciously new holy relics, suspiciously old rancid sweetmeats on a stick, gritty figs, and long-past-thesell-by dates. He was a sort of natural force, like the wind. No one knew where he came from or where he went at night. But he was there every dawn, selling sticky things to the pilgrims. And in
then . . . drop you."
"Urrgh."
"No. More like . . . crack . . . splat. How did you think I got in here?"
"You were dropped? But-”
"Landed on a pile of dirt in your garden. That's eagles for you. Whole place built of rock and paved with rock on a big rock and they miss."
"That was lucky. this the priests reckoned he was on to a good thing, because most of the pilgrims were coming for the first time and therefore lacked the essential thing you needed in dealing with Dhblah, which was the experience of having dealt with him before. The sight of someone in the Place trying to unstick their jaws with dignity was a familiar one. Many a devout pilgrim, after a thousand miles of perilous journey, was forced to make his petition in sign language.Million-to-one chance," said Brutha."I never had this trouble when I was a bull. The number of eagles who can pick up a bull, you can count them on the fingers of one head. Anyway," said the tortoise, "there's worse here than eagles. There's a-”"There's good eating on one of them, you know," said a voice behind Brutha.He stood up guiltily, the tortoise in his hand."Oh, hello, Mr. Dhblah," he said.Everyone in the city knew Cut-Me-Own-Hand-Off Dhblah, purveyor of suspiciously new holy relics, suspiciously old rancid sweetmeats on a stick, gritty figs, and long-past-thesell-by dates. He was a sort of natural force, like the wind. No one knew where he came from or where he went at night. But he was there every dawn, selling sticky things to the pilgrims. And in
Claude Monet Poplars
Claude Monet PoplarsJohannes Vermeer View Of DelftJohannes Vermeer The Kitchen Maid
The Great God Om tried to stay in the shade of a melon vine. He was probably safe here, here inside these walls and with even any suggestion that anything had been heard.
Om lost his temper and turned Lu-Tze into a lowly worm in the deepest cesspit of hell, and then got even more angry when the old man went on peacefully shoveling.
"The devils of infinity fill your living bones with sulphur!" he screamed.
This did not make a great deal of difference.
"Deaf old bugger," muttered the Great God Om.
the prayer towers all around, but you couldn't be too careful. He'd been lucky once, but it was asking too much to expect to be lucky again.The trouble with being a god is that you've got no one to pray to.He crawled forward purposefully towards the old man shoveling muck until, after much exertion, he judged himself to be within earshot.He spake thusly: "Hey, you!"There was no answer. There was not
The Great God Om tried to stay in the shade of a melon vine. He was probably safe here, here inside these walls and with even any suggestion that anything had been heard.
Om lost his temper and turned Lu-Tze into a lowly worm in the deepest cesspit of hell, and then got even more angry when the old man went on peacefully shoveling.
"The devils of infinity fill your living bones with sulphur!" he screamed.
This did not make a great deal of difference.
"Deaf old bugger," muttered the Great God Om.
the prayer towers all around, but you couldn't be too careful. He'd been lucky once, but it was asking too much to expect to be lucky again.The trouble with being a god is that you've got no one to pray to.He crawled forward purposefully towards the old man shoveling muck until, after much exertion, he judged himself to be within earshot.He spake thusly: "Hey, you!"There was no answer. There was not
Friday, April 10, 2009
Leroy Neiman Sailing
Leroy Neiman SailingLeroy Neiman Nantucket SailingUnknown Artist Apple Tree with Red Fruit
'Shut up.'
The Seriph ran his tongue over his lips.
'I suppose a quick anecdote is out of the question?' he croaked.
Conina sighed. 'There's more to life than narrative, you know.'
'Sorry. I lost control a little, there.'
Now that the sun was well up the crushed-shell beach glowed like a salt flat. The sea didn't look any better by daylight it. Sorry.'
He held out the lamp that had been in the treasury.
'It's magic, isn't it?' he said hopefully. 'I've heard about them, isn't it worth a try?'
Creosote shook his head.
'But you said your grandfather used it to make his fortune!' said Conina.
'A lamp,' said the Seriph, 'he used a lamp. Not this lamp. No, the real lamp was a battered . It moved like thin oil.Away on either side the beach stretched in long, excruciatingly flat curves, supporting nothing but a few clumps of withered dune grass which lived off the moisture in the spray. There was no sign of any shade.'The way I see it,' said Conina, 'this is a beach, and that means sooner or later we'll come to a river, so all we have to do is keep walking in one direction.''And yet, delightful snow on the slopes of Mount Eritor, we do not know which one.'Nijel sighed, and reached into his bag.'Erm,' he said, 'excuse me. Would this be any good? I stole
'Shut up.'
The Seriph ran his tongue over his lips.
'I suppose a quick anecdote is out of the question?' he croaked.
Conina sighed. 'There's more to life than narrative, you know.'
'Sorry. I lost control a little, there.'
Now that the sun was well up the crushed-shell beach glowed like a salt flat. The sea didn't look any better by daylight it. Sorry.'
He held out the lamp that had been in the treasury.
'It's magic, isn't it?' he said hopefully. 'I've heard about them, isn't it worth a try?'
Creosote shook his head.
'But you said your grandfather used it to make his fortune!' said Conina.
'A lamp,' said the Seriph, 'he used a lamp. Not this lamp. No, the real lamp was a battered . It moved like thin oil.Away on either side the beach stretched in long, excruciatingly flat curves, supporting nothing but a few clumps of withered dune grass which lived off the moisture in the spray. There was no sign of any shade.'The way I see it,' said Conina, 'this is a beach, and that means sooner or later we'll come to a river, so all we have to do is keep walking in one direction.''And yet, delightful snow on the slopes of Mount Eritor, we do not know which one.'Nijel sighed, and reached into his bag.'Erm,' he said, 'excuse me. Would this be any good? I stole
Wednesday, April 8, 2009
Edward Hopper The Lighthouse at Two Lights
Edward Hopper The Lighthouse at Two LightsEdward Hopper Tables for LadiesEdward Hopper Sunlight in a Cafeteria
was the only wizard I could find,' said the girl, 'He looked the part. He had 'blizzard' written on his hat and everything.'
Don't is someone fit to wear me.
'Why?' There was something very strange about the voice, Rincewind decided. It sounded impossible to disobey, as though it was solid destiny. If it told him to walk over a cliff, he thought, he'd be halfway down before it could occur to him to disobey.
The death of all wizardry is at hand.
Rincewind looked around guiltily.
'Why?' he said.
The world is going to end.believe everything you read. Too late now, anyway. We haven't got much time.'Hold on, hold on,' said Rincewind urgently, 'What's going on? You wanted her to steal you? Why haven't we got much time?' He pointed an accusing finger at the hat. 'Anyway, you can't go around letting yourself be stolen, you're supposed to be on - on the Archchancellor's head! The ceremony was tonight, I should have been there-’Something terrible is happening at the University. It is vital that we are not taken back, do you understand? You must take us to Klatch, where there
was the only wizard I could find,' said the girl, 'He looked the part. He had 'blizzard' written on his hat and everything.'
Don't is someone fit to wear me.
'Why?' There was something very strange about the voice, Rincewind decided. It sounded impossible to disobey, as though it was solid destiny. If it told him to walk over a cliff, he thought, he'd be halfway down before it could occur to him to disobey.
The death of all wizardry is at hand.
Rincewind looked around guiltily.
'Why?' he said.
The world is going to end.believe everything you read. Too late now, anyway. We haven't got much time.'Hold on, hold on,' said Rincewind urgently, 'What's going on? You wanted her to steal you? Why haven't we got much time?' He pointed an accusing finger at the hat. 'Anyway, you can't go around letting yourself be stolen, you're supposed to be on - on the Archchancellor's head! The ceremony was tonight, I should have been there-’Something terrible is happening at the University. It is vital that we are not taken back, do you understand? You must take us to Klatch, where there
Tuesday, April 7, 2009
Winslow Homer The Fog Warning
Winslow Homer The Fog WarningWinslow Homer Rowing HomeWinslow Homer Kissing the Moon
Would that be orchids or roses?’
BOTH.
Druto’s fingers twined sinuously, like eels in grease. ‘And I wonder if I could interest you in these marvellous sprays of Neroousa GIoriosa -‘ LOTS OF THEM.
‘And if Sir’s budget would stretch, may I suggest a single specimen of the
extremely rare -‘
YES.
‘And possibly -‘
YES. EVERYTHING. WITH A RIBBON.
When ‘That’s our De Luxe assortment,’ said the lady in the chocolate shop. It was such a highclass establishment that it sold, not sweets. but confectionery - often in the form of individual gold-wrapped swirly things that made even larger holes in a bank balance than they did in a tooth. The tall dark customer picked up a box that was about two feet square. On a lid like a satin cushion it had a picture of a couple of hopelessly cross-eyed kittens looking out of a boot.the shop bell had jangled the purchaser out, Druto looked at the coins in his hand. Many of them werecorroded, all of them were strange, and one or two were golden.‘Um,’ he said. ‘That will do nicely . . .’He became aware of a soft pattering sound.Around him, all over the shop, petals were falling like rain.AND THESE?
Would that be orchids or roses?’
BOTH.
Druto’s fingers twined sinuously, like eels in grease. ‘And I wonder if I could interest you in these marvellous sprays of Neroousa GIoriosa -‘ LOTS OF THEM.
‘And if Sir’s budget would stretch, may I suggest a single specimen of the
extremely rare -‘
YES.
‘And possibly -‘
YES. EVERYTHING. WITH A RIBBON.
When ‘That’s our De Luxe assortment,’ said the lady in the chocolate shop. It was such a highclass establishment that it sold, not sweets. but confectionery - often in the form of individual gold-wrapped swirly things that made even larger holes in a bank balance than they did in a tooth. The tall dark customer picked up a box that was about two feet square. On a lid like a satin cushion it had a picture of a couple of hopelessly cross-eyed kittens looking out of a boot.the shop bell had jangled the purchaser out, Druto looked at the coins in his hand. Many of them werecorroded, all of them were strange, and one or two were golden.‘Um,’ he said. ‘That will do nicely . . .’He became aware of a soft pattering sound.Around him, all over the shop, petals were falling like rain.AND THESE?
Monday, April 6, 2009
Thomas Kinkade City by the Bay
Thomas Kinkade City by the BayThomas Kinkade Blessings of ChristmasThomas Kinkade Beyond Summer Gate
Good idea,’ said Ridcully. He looked up at the advancing wall of twisted wire. ‘Any idea how?’ he said.
‘Yo! Scallywags!’ said the Dean. He aimed his staff again. It made a sad little noise that, if it was written down, could only be spelled pfffft. A feeble spark fell off the end and on to the cobbles.
Windle Poons slammed another book shut. The Librarian winced. ‘Nothing! Volcanoes, tidal waves, wrath of gods, glanced across the Library to where Lupine was having his paw bandaged.
‘Librarian?’ he said softly.
‘Oook?’
‘You’ve changed species in your time . . . what would you do if, for the sake of argument, you found a couple of people who . . . well, suppose there was a wolf that changed into a wolfman at the full moon, and a woman that meddling wizards . . . I don’t want to know how other cities have been killed, I want to know how they ended . . .’The Librarian stacked another pile of books on the reading desk. Another plus about being dead, Windle was finding, was an ability with languages. He couldsee the sense in the words without knowing the actual meaning. Being dead wasn’t like falling asleep after all. It was like waking up. He
Good idea,’ said Ridcully. He looked up at the advancing wall of twisted wire. ‘Any idea how?’ he said.
‘Yo! Scallywags!’ said the Dean. He aimed his staff again. It made a sad little noise that, if it was written down, could only be spelled pfffft. A feeble spark fell off the end and on to the cobbles.
Windle Poons slammed another book shut. The Librarian winced. ‘Nothing! Volcanoes, tidal waves, wrath of gods, glanced across the Library to where Lupine was having his paw bandaged.
‘Librarian?’ he said softly.
‘Oook?’
‘You’ve changed species in your time . . . what would you do if, for the sake of argument, you found a couple of people who . . . well, suppose there was a wolf that changed into a wolfman at the full moon, and a woman that meddling wizards . . . I don’t want to know how other cities have been killed, I want to know how they ended . . .’The Librarian stacked another pile of books on the reading desk. Another plus about being dead, Windle was finding, was an ability with languages. He couldsee the sense in the words without knowing the actual meaning. Being dead wasn’t like falling asleep after all. It was like waking up. He
Friday, April 3, 2009
Pierre Auguste Renoir Dance in the City
Pierre Auguste Renoir Dance in the CityJoaquin Sorolla y Bastida Beaching the Boat (study)Joseph Mallord William Turner Mortlake Terrace
Mustrum Ridcully trotted into his study and took his wizard’s staff from its rack over the fireplace. He licked his finger and gingerly touched the top of the staff.
There was a small octarine spark and a smell of greasy tin.
He headed, like the sort of thing the maids trundled around loaded with mops and fresh linen and whatever it was maids pushed around. Ridcully made a mental note to take it up with the housekeeper. Then he forgot about it.
‘Damn wire wheely things are gettin’ everywhere,’ he muttered. Upon the word “damn”, something like a large blue-bottle with cat-sized dentures flopped out of the air, fluttered madly as it back for the door.Then he turned around slowly, because his brain had just had time to analyse the study’s cluttered contents ‘What the hell’s that doin’ there?’ he said. He prodded it with the tip of the staff. It gave a jingling noise and rolled a little way.It looked vaguely, but not very much
Mustrum Ridcully trotted into his study and took his wizard’s staff from its rack over the fireplace. He licked his finger and gingerly touched the top of the staff.
There was a small octarine spark and a smell of greasy tin.
He headed, like the sort of thing the maids trundled around loaded with mops and fresh linen and whatever it was maids pushed around. Ridcully made a mental note to take it up with the housekeeper. Then he forgot about it.
‘Damn wire wheely things are gettin’ everywhere,’ he muttered. Upon the word “damn”, something like a large blue-bottle with cat-sized dentures flopped out of the air, fluttered madly as it back for the door.Then he turned around slowly, because his brain had just had time to analyse the study’s cluttered contents ‘What the hell’s that doin’ there?’ he said. He prodded it with the tip of the staff. It gave a jingling noise and rolled a little way.It looked vaguely, but not very much
Thursday, April 2, 2009
Arthur Hughes Phyllis
Arthur Hughes PhyllisFranz Marc Zwei KatzenFranz Marc yellow cow
You know I can’t hold the needles properly, mother.’
‘Try for your mother.’
‘ Yes, mother,’ said Ludmilla.
‘And don’t go near the window. We don’t want people upset.’ ‘Yes, mother. And you make sure you put your to herself.
Mrs Cake spent a lot of the time grumbling. Her mouth was constantly moving, as if she was trying to dislodge a troublesome pip from somewhere in the back of her teeth.
She reached the high black gates of the University and hesitated again, as if listeninpremonition on, mum. You know your eyesight isn’t what it was.’Mrs Cake watched her daughter go upstairs. Then she locked the front door behind her and strode towards Unseen University where, she’d heard, there was too much nonsense of all sorts.Anyone watching Mrs Cake’s progress along the street would have noticed one or two odd details.Despite her erratic gait, no-one bumped into her. They weren’t avoiding her, she just wasn’t where they were.At one point she hesitated, and stepped into an alleyway. A moment later a barrel rolled off a cart that was unloading outside a tavern and smashed on the cobbles where she would have been. She stepped out of the alley and over the wreckage, grumblingg
You know I can’t hold the needles properly, mother.’
‘Try for your mother.’
‘ Yes, mother,’ said Ludmilla.
‘And don’t go near the window. We don’t want people upset.’ ‘Yes, mother. And you make sure you put your to herself.
Mrs Cake spent a lot of the time grumbling. Her mouth was constantly moving, as if she was trying to dislodge a troublesome pip from somewhere in the back of her teeth.
She reached the high black gates of the University and hesitated again, as if listeninpremonition on, mum. You know your eyesight isn’t what it was.’Mrs Cake watched her daughter go upstairs. Then she locked the front door behind her and strode towards Unseen University where, she’d heard, there was too much nonsense of all sorts.Anyone watching Mrs Cake’s progress along the street would have noticed one or two odd details.Despite her erratic gait, no-one bumped into her. They weren’t avoiding her, she just wasn’t where they were.At one point she hesitated, and stepped into an alleyway. A moment later a barrel rolled off a cart that was unloading outside a tavern and smashed on the cobbles where she would have been. She stepped out of the alley and over the wreckage, grumblingg
Wednesday, April 1, 2009
Andy Warhol Basket of Flowers
Andy Warhol Basket of FlowersNicolas De Stael Sky in HonfleurNicolas De Stael Noon LandscapeNicolas De Stael Jazz MusiciansNicolas De Stael Fiesole 1953
SORRY?
‘What is your name?’
The stranger stared at her for a moment, and then looked around wildly.
‘Come on,’ said Miss Flitworth.’l ain’t employing no-one without no name.
Mr . . . ?’
The figure stared upwards.
MR SKY?
‘No-one’s called Mr Sky.’
MR . . . DOOR?
She nodded.
‘Could be. Could be Mr Door. There was a chap called Doors I knew once. Yeah. Mr Door. And your first name? Don’t tell me you haven’t got one of those, too. You’ve got to be a Bill or a Tom or a Bruce or one of those names.’
YES.
‘What?’
ONE OFtruth. More than half, really.’ She squinted at the figure. Somehow it was very hard to be certain what Bill Door looked like, or even remember THOSE.‘Which one?’ ER. THE FIRST ONE?‘You’re a Bill?’YES?Miss Flitworth rolled her eyes.‘All right, Bill Sky . . .’ she said.DOOR.‘Yeah. Sorry. All right, Bill Door . . .’CALL ME BILL.‘And you can call me Miss Flitworth. I expect you want some dinner?’I WOULD? AH. YES. THE MEAL OF THE EVENING. YES.‘You look half starved, to tell the
SORRY?
‘What is your name?’
The stranger stared at her for a moment, and then looked around wildly.
‘Come on,’ said Miss Flitworth.’l ain’t employing no-one without no name.
Mr . . . ?’
The figure stared upwards.
MR SKY?
‘No-one’s called Mr Sky.’
MR . . . DOOR?
She nodded.
‘Could be. Could be Mr Door. There was a chap called Doors I knew once. Yeah. Mr Door. And your first name? Don’t tell me you haven’t got one of those, too. You’ve got to be a Bill or a Tom or a Bruce or one of those names.’
YES.
‘What?’
ONE OFtruth. More than half, really.’ She squinted at the figure. Somehow it was very hard to be certain what Bill Door looked like, or even remember THOSE.‘Which one?’ ER. THE FIRST ONE?‘You’re a Bill?’YES?Miss Flitworth rolled her eyes.‘All right, Bill Sky . . .’ she said.DOOR.‘Yeah. Sorry. All right, Bill Door . . .’CALL ME BILL.‘And you can call me Miss Flitworth. I expect you want some dinner?’I WOULD? AH. YES. THE MEAL OF THE EVENING. YES.‘You look half starved, to tell the
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