Thomas Kinkade The Rose GardenThomas Kinkade Sunset on Lamplight LaneThomas Kinkade Sunday OutingThomas Kinkade Studio in The GardenThomas Kinkade San Francisco Lombard Street
Snow glittered on the rimward outriders of the Ramtop mountains, that great world‑spanning range which, where it curves around the Circle Sea, forms a natural wall between Klatch and the great flat Sto plains.
It was the home of rogue glaciers and prowling avalanches and high, silent fields of snow.
And yetis. Yetis are a high‑altitude species of troll, and quite unaware that eating people is out of fashion. Their view is: if it moves, eat it. If it doesn’t, then wait for it to move. And then eat it.
They’d been listening all day to the sounds. Echoes had bounced from peak to peak along the frozen ranges until, now‘Good and deep today,’ he said. ‘Nothing’s gonna move fast in this, right? We lie down in the snow, they won’t see us till they’re right on top of us, we panic ‘em, it’s Big Eats time.’ He waved his enormous paws in the air. ‘Very heavy, my cousin said. They’ll not move fast, you mark , it was a steady dull rumble.‘My cousin’, said one of them, idly probing a hollow tooth with a claw, ‘said they was enormous grey animals. Elephants.’‘Bigger’n us?’ said the other yeti.‘Nearly as bigger’n us,’ said the first yeti. ‘Loads of them, he said. More than he could count.’The second yeti sniffed the wind and appeared to consider this.‘Yeah, well,’ he said, gloomily. ‘Your cousin can’t count above one.’‘He said there was lots of big ones. Big fat grey elephants, all climbing, all roped together. Big and slow. All carrying lots of oograah.’Ah.The first yeti indicated the vast sloping snowfield.
Tuesday, March 31, 2009
Monday, March 30, 2009
Joaquin Sorolla y Bastida Ninos en el Mar
Joaquin Sorolla y Bastida Ninos en el MarJoaquin Sorolla y Bastida Leaving the BathJoaquin Sorolla y Bastida Children on the BeachJoaquin Sorolla y Bastida Children on the Beach ValenciaJoaquin Sorolla y Bastida Child's Siesta
He’d lain awake all night thinking about this. Then, in the first light of dawn, he scratched a few designs on the but wall with a stick, and got to work. He had taken the opportunity to look at a few mousetraps while he was in the town, and they were definitely less than perfect. They hadn’t been built by hunters.
Now he picked up the twig and pushed it gently into the mechanism.
Snap.
Perfect.He said, ‘I didn’t know it was that good.’
According to the history books, the decisive battle that ended the Ankh‑Morpork Civil War was fought between two handfuls of bone‑weary men in a swamp early one misty morning and, although one side claimed victory, ended with a practical score of Humans 0, ravens 1Now, all he had to do was take it into N’kouf and see if the merchantThe rain was very loud indeed. In fact, it sounded more likeWhen Banana woke up he was lying in the ruins of his but and they were in a half‑mile wide swathe of trodden mud.He looked muzzily at what remained of his home. He looked at the brown scar that stretched from horizon to horizon. He looked at the dark, muddy cloud just visible at one end of it.Then he looked down. The better mousetrap was now a rather nice two‑dimensional design, squashed into the middle of an enormous footprint.
He’d lain awake all night thinking about this. Then, in the first light of dawn, he scratched a few designs on the but wall with a stick, and got to work. He had taken the opportunity to look at a few mousetraps while he was in the town, and they were definitely less than perfect. They hadn’t been built by hunters.
Now he picked up the twig and pushed it gently into the mechanism.
Snap.
Perfect.He said, ‘I didn’t know it was that good.’
According to the history books, the decisive battle that ended the Ankh‑Morpork Civil War was fought between two handfuls of bone‑weary men in a swamp early one misty morning and, although one side claimed victory, ended with a practical score of Humans 0, ravens 1Now, all he had to do was take it into N’kouf and see if the merchantThe rain was very loud indeed. In fact, it sounded more likeWhen Banana woke up he was lying in the ruins of his but and they were in a half‑mile wide swathe of trodden mud.He looked muzzily at what remained of his home. He looked at the brown scar that stretched from horizon to horizon. He looked at the dark, muddy cloud just visible at one end of it.Then he looked down. The better mousetrap was now a rather nice two‑dimensional design, squashed into the middle of an enormous footprint.
Friday, March 27, 2009
Joseph Mallord William Turner Caernarvon Castle
Joseph Mallord William Turner Caernarvon CastleJoseph Mallord William Turner The Slave ShipJoseph Mallord William Turner The fighting Temeraire tugged to her last berth to be broken upJoseph Mallord William Turner The Burning of the Houses of ParliamentJoseph Mallord William Turner Rainbow
whumm . . . whummWHUMM.
The Bursar held his breath.
Plib.
Plib..
Plib.
The Archchancellor peered at the hourglass on the mantelpiece. ‘It’s doin’ it every five minutes now,’ he said.
‘And it’s Over the page was a diagram. The Bursar stared at it.
‘Found anything?’ said the Archchancellor, without looking up.
The Bursar shoved the paper up the sleeve of his robe.
‘Nothing important,’ he said. Down below, the surf boomed on the beach. ( . . . and below the surface, the lobsters walked backwards along the deep, drowned streets . . . ) up to three shots,’ said the Bursar. ‘I’ll have to order some more sandbags.’ He flicked through a heap of paper. A word caught his eye. Reality. He glanced at the handwriting that flowed across the page. It had a very small, cramped, deliberate look. Someone had told him that this was because Numbers Riktor had been an anal retentive. The Bursar didn’t know what that meant, and hoped never to find out. Another word was: Measurement. His gaze drifted upwards, and took in the underlined title: Some Notes on the Objective Measurement of Reality.
whumm . . . whummWHUMM.
The Bursar held his breath.
Plib.
Plib..
Plib.
The Archchancellor peered at the hourglass on the mantelpiece. ‘It’s doin’ it every five minutes now,’ he said.
‘And it’s Over the page was a diagram. The Bursar stared at it.
‘Found anything?’ said the Archchancellor, without looking up.
The Bursar shoved the paper up the sleeve of his robe.
‘Nothing important,’ he said. Down below, the surf boomed on the beach. ( . . . and below the surface, the lobsters walked backwards along the deep, drowned streets . . . ) up to three shots,’ said the Bursar. ‘I’ll have to order some more sandbags.’ He flicked through a heap of paper. A word caught his eye. Reality. He glanced at the handwriting that flowed across the page. It had a very small, cramped, deliberate look. Someone had told him that this was because Numbers Riktor had been an anal retentive. The Bursar didn’t know what that meant, and hoped never to find out. Another word was: Measurement. His gaze drifted upwards, and took in the underlined title: Some Notes on the Objective Measurement of Reality.
Thursday, March 26, 2009
Gustav Klimt Pear Tree
Gustav Klimt Pear TreeGustav Klimt Fruit TreesGustav Klimt Death and LifeGustav Klimt Beethoven FriezeGustav Klimt Apple Tree I
More dynamic, I fought,’ said the prospective Flint.
Victor heard himself say: ‘Or Rock. Rock’s a nice name.’
The troll stared at him, its lips moving soundlessly as it tried out the alias.
‘Cor,’ he said. ‘Never fought of that. Rock. I like that. I reckon I’d be due more’n three dollars a day, with a name like Rock.’
‘Can we make a start?’ said Dibbler sternly. ‘Maybe we’ll be able to afford more trolls if this is a patiently. ‘The trolls rush out from behind the rocks, and you valiantly defend yourself.’
‘But I don’t know how to fight trolls!’ Victor wailed.
‘Tell you what,’ said the newly-christened Rock. ‘You parry first, and we’ll sort of arrange not to hit you.’
Light dawned. successful click, but it won’t be if we go over budget, which means we ought to wrap it up by lunchtime. Now, Morry and Galena–’ ‘Rock,’ corrected Rock. ‘Really? Anyway, you two rush out and attack Victor, OK. Right . . . turn it . . . ‘ The handleman turned the handle of the picture box. There was a faint clicking noise and a chorus of small yelps from the demons. Victor stood looking helpful and alert. ‘That means you start,’ said Silverfish
‘You mean it’s all pretending?’ said Victor.
More dynamic, I fought,’ said the prospective Flint.
Victor heard himself say: ‘Or Rock. Rock’s a nice name.’
The troll stared at him, its lips moving soundlessly as it tried out the alias.
‘Cor,’ he said. ‘Never fought of that. Rock. I like that. I reckon I’d be due more’n three dollars a day, with a name like Rock.’
‘Can we make a start?’ said Dibbler sternly. ‘Maybe we’ll be able to afford more trolls if this is a patiently. ‘The trolls rush out from behind the rocks, and you valiantly defend yourself.’
‘But I don’t know how to fight trolls!’ Victor wailed.
‘Tell you what,’ said the newly-christened Rock. ‘You parry first, and we’ll sort of arrange not to hit you.’
Light dawned. successful click, but it won’t be if we go over budget, which means we ought to wrap it up by lunchtime. Now, Morry and Galena–’ ‘Rock,’ corrected Rock. ‘Really? Anyway, you two rush out and attack Victor, OK. Right . . . turn it . . . ‘ The handleman turned the handle of the picture box. There was a faint clicking noise and a chorus of small yelps from the demons. Victor stood looking helpful and alert. ‘That means you start,’ said Silverfish
‘You mean it’s all pretending?’ said Victor.
Wednesday, March 25, 2009
Jean Fragonard The Love Letter
Jean Fragonard The Love LetterJean Fragonard The BoltJoaquin Sorolla y Bastida The Two SistersJoaquin Sorolla y Bastida MariaAlexandre Cabanel Ophelia
occasionally where the walls of the worlds have worn a bit thin, they can leak in.
And reality leaks out.
The effect is like one of those deep-sea geysers of hot water, around which strange submarine creatures find enough warmth and food to make a brief, tiny oasis of existence in an environment where there shouldn’t be any and the gale became nothing more than a faint breeze.
It blew sand over the long-dead remains of afire.
Further down the slope, near a hole that was now big enough for, say, a badger, a small rock dislodged itself and rolled away.
A month went by quickly. It didn’t want to hang around.
existence at all. The idea of Holy Wood leaked innocently and joyfully into the Discworld. And reality leaked out. And was found. For there are Things outside, whose ability to sniff out tiny frail conglomerations of reality made the thing with the sharks and the trace of blood seem very boring indeed. They began to gather. A storm slid in across the sand dunes but, where it reached the low hill, the clouds seemed to curve away. Only a few drops of rain hit the parched soil,
occasionally where the walls of the worlds have worn a bit thin, they can leak in.
And reality leaks out.
The effect is like one of those deep-sea geysers of hot water, around which strange submarine creatures find enough warmth and food to make a brief, tiny oasis of existence in an environment where there shouldn’t be any and the gale became nothing more than a faint breeze.
It blew sand over the long-dead remains of afire.
Further down the slope, near a hole that was now big enough for, say, a badger, a small rock dislodged itself and rolled away.
A month went by quickly. It didn’t want to hang around.
existence at all. The idea of Holy Wood leaked innocently and joyfully into the Discworld. And reality leaked out. And was found. For there are Things outside, whose ability to sniff out tiny frail conglomerations of reality made the thing with the sharks and the trace of blood seem very boring indeed. They began to gather. A storm slid in across the sand dunes but, where it reached the low hill, the clouds seemed to curve away. Only a few drops of rain hit the parched soil,
Tuesday, March 24, 2009
Henri Matisse Red Fish
Henri Matisse Red FishHenri Matisse Pink NudeHenri Matisse OdalisquesHenri Matisse OdalisqueHenri Matisse Music
that we hold dear, you will cast adrift in time. Uncertain. Without guidance. Changeable.'
'Then it can take its chances,' said Teppicymon. 'Stand aside, Dios.'
Dios
The pyramid pulsed under Teppic, and the marble was as slippery as ice. The inward slope wasn't the help he had expected.
The thing, he told himself, is not to look up or down, but straight ahead, into the marble, parcelling the impossible height into manageable sections. Just like time. That's how we survive infinity - we kill it by breaking it up into small bits.held up his staff. The snake around it uncoiled and hissed at the king. 'Be still,' said Dios. Dark lightning crackled between the ancestors. Dios stared at the staff in astonishment; it had never done this before. But seven thousand years of his priests had believed, in their hearts, that the staff of Dios could rule this world and the next. In the sudden silence there was the faint chink, high up, of a knife being wedged between two black marble slabs.
that we hold dear, you will cast adrift in time. Uncertain. Without guidance. Changeable.'
'Then it can take its chances,' said Teppicymon. 'Stand aside, Dios.'
Dios
The pyramid pulsed under Teppic, and the marble was as slippery as ice. The inward slope wasn't the help he had expected.
The thing, he told himself, is not to look up or down, but straight ahead, into the marble, parcelling the impossible height into manageable sections. Just like time. That's how we survive infinity - we kill it by breaking it up into small bits.held up his staff. The snake around it uncoiled and hissed at the king. 'Be still,' said Dios. Dark lightning crackled between the ancestors. Dios stared at the staff in astonishment; it had never done this before. But seven thousand years of his priests had believed, in their hearts, that the staff of Dios could rule this world and the next. In the sudden silence there was the faint chink, high up, of a knife being wedged between two black marble slabs.
Monday, March 23, 2009
Andy Warhol Camouflage green yellow white
Andy Warhol Camouflage green yellow whiteAndy Warhol Brooklyn BridgeAndy Warhol BananaUnknown Artist The Great Wave off Kanagawa by Katsushika HokusaiUnknown Artist The Great Wave of Kanagawa by Katsushika Hokusai
'You're absolutely right,' he said. 'I never thought about it. Where I come from it rains nearly every day. I'm sorry.'
Ptraci's brows furrowed. 'Who reigns nearly every day?' she said.
'No, I mean rain. You know. Very thin water coming out of the sky?'
'What a silly idea. Where do you come from?'
Teppic looked , and was gone. He tried a few times more, and couldn't see it again.
If I hacked the rocks away? No, he thought, that's silly. It's a line. You can't get into a line. A line has no thickness. Well known fact of geometry.
He heard Ptraci come up behind him, and the next moment her hands were on his neck. For a second he wondered how she knew the Catharti Death Grip, and then her fingers were gently massaging his muscles, stresses melting under their expert caress like fat under a hot knife. He shivered as the tension relaxed.
'That's nice,' he said.miserable. 'Where I come from is Ankh-Morpork. Where I started from is here.' He stared down the track. From here, if you knew what you were looking for, you could just see a faint crack running across the rocks. It climbed the cliffs on either side, a new vertical fault the thickness of a line that just happened to contain a complete river kingdom and 7,000 years of history. He'd hated every minute of his time there. And now it had shut him out. And now, because he couldn't, he wanted to go back. He wandered down to it and put his hand over one eye. If you jerked your head just right . . . It flashed past his vision briefly
'You're absolutely right,' he said. 'I never thought about it. Where I come from it rains nearly every day. I'm sorry.'
Ptraci's brows furrowed. 'Who reigns nearly every day?' she said.
'No, I mean rain. You know. Very thin water coming out of the sky?'
'What a silly idea. Where do you come from?'
Teppic looked , and was gone. He tried a few times more, and couldn't see it again.
If I hacked the rocks away? No, he thought, that's silly. It's a line. You can't get into a line. A line has no thickness. Well known fact of geometry.
He heard Ptraci come up behind him, and the next moment her hands were on his neck. For a second he wondered how she knew the Catharti Death Grip, and then her fingers were gently massaging his muscles, stresses melting under their expert caress like fat under a hot knife. He shivered as the tension relaxed.
'That's nice,' he said.miserable. 'Where I come from is Ankh-Morpork. Where I started from is here.' He stared down the track. From here, if you knew what you were looking for, you could just see a faint crack running across the rocks. It climbed the cliffs on either side, a new vertical fault the thickness of a line that just happened to contain a complete river kingdom and 7,000 years of history. He'd hated every minute of his time there. And now it had shut him out. And now, because he couldn't, he wanted to go back. He wandered down to it and put his hand over one eye. If you jerked your head just right . . . It flashed past his vision briefly
Friday, March 20, 2009
Jack Vettriano The Missing Man I
Jack Vettriano The Missing Man IJack Vettriano The Man in the MirrorJack Vettriano The Main AttractionJack Vettriano The Mad Hairdresser studyJack Vettriano The Letter
rope, but only assassins of the third grade may use it as one of the three options, sir.'
'You are sure of that, are you?'
'Sir.'
'You wouldn't like to reconsider?' You could have used the examiner's voice to grease a wagon.
'Sir, no, sir.'
'Very well.' Teppic relaxed. The back of his tunic was sticking to him, chilly with sweat.
'Now, I the Guild's widows and orphans fund, or it would be retrieved from his dead body. The bond looked a bit dog-eared, but he couldn't see any bloodstains on it.
He checked his knives, adjusted his swordbelt, glanced behind him, and set off at a gentle trot.
At least this was a bit of luck. The student lore said there were only half a dozen routes used during the testwant you to proceed at your own pace towards the Street of Book-keepers,' said Mericet evenly, 'obeying all signs and so forth. I will meet you in the room under the gong tower at the junction with Audit Alley. And - take this, if you please.' He handed Teppic a small envelope. Teppic handed over a receipt. Then Mericet stepped into the pool of shade beside a chimney pot, and disappeared. So much for the ceremony. Teppic took a few deep breaths and tipped the envelope's contents into his hand. It was a Guild bond for ten thousand Ankh-Morpork dollars, made out to 'Bearer'. It was an impressive document, surmounted with the Guild seal of the double-cross and the cloaked dagger. Well, no going back now. He'd taken the money. Either he'd survive, in which case of course he'd traditionally donate the money to
rope, but only assassins of the third grade may use it as one of the three options, sir.'
'You are sure of that, are you?'
'Sir.'
'You wouldn't like to reconsider?' You could have used the examiner's voice to grease a wagon.
'Sir, no, sir.'
'Very well.' Teppic relaxed. The back of his tunic was sticking to him, chilly with sweat.
'Now, I the Guild's widows and orphans fund, or it would be retrieved from his dead body. The bond looked a bit dog-eared, but he couldn't see any bloodstains on it.
He checked his knives, adjusted his swordbelt, glanced behind him, and set off at a gentle trot.
At least this was a bit of luck. The student lore said there were only half a dozen routes used during the testwant you to proceed at your own pace towards the Street of Book-keepers,' said Mericet evenly, 'obeying all signs and so forth. I will meet you in the room under the gong tower at the junction with Audit Alley. And - take this, if you please.' He handed Teppic a small envelope. Teppic handed over a receipt. Then Mericet stepped into the pool of shade beside a chimney pot, and disappeared. So much for the ceremony. Teppic took a few deep breaths and tipped the envelope's contents into his hand. It was a Guild bond for ten thousand Ankh-Morpork dollars, made out to 'Bearer'. It was an impressive document, surmounted with the Guild seal of the double-cross and the cloaked dagger. Well, no going back now. He'd taken the money. Either he'd survive, in which case of course he'd traditionally donate the money to
Wednesday, March 18, 2009
Thomas Kinkade CHRISTMAS AT THE AHWAHNEE
Thomas Kinkade CHRISTMAS AT THE AHWAHNEECamille Pissarro Still Life with Apples and PitcherWinslow Homer The Houses of ParliamentWinslow Homer Children on the BeachAndrew Atroshenko What a Wonderful Life
She looked at the ghost of the king. Well, he'd been no worse than any other king. Oh, he might burn down the odd cottage every now and again, in a sort of absent-minded way, but only when he was really angry about something, and he could give it up any time he liked. Where he wounded the world, he left the kind of wounds that put babbies in a cauldron!'
Granny grabbed her shawl as she tried to stand up.
'Don't do anything!' she hissed. 'It'll make things worse.'
' "Ditch-delivered by adrabe", they said. That'll be young Millie Hipwood, who didn't dare tell her mum and then went out gathering firewood. I was up all night with that one,' Nanny muttered. 'Fine girl she produced. It's a slander! What's a drabe?' she added.
'Words,' said Granny, half to herself. 'That's all that's left. Words.'healed.Whoever wrote this Theatre knew about the uses of magic. Even I believe what's happening, and I know there's no truth in it.This is Art holding a Mirror up to Life. That's why everything is exactly the wrong way round.We've lost. There is nothing we can do against this without becoming exactly what we aren't.Nanny Ogg gave her a violent nudge in the ribs.'Did you hear that?' she said. 'One of 'em said we put babbies in the cauldron! They've done a slander on me! I'm not sitting here and have 'em say we
She looked at the ghost of the king. Well, he'd been no worse than any other king. Oh, he might burn down the odd cottage every now and again, in a sort of absent-minded way, but only when he was really angry about something, and he could give it up any time he liked. Where he wounded the world, he left the kind of wounds that put babbies in a cauldron!'
Granny grabbed her shawl as she tried to stand up.
'Don't do anything!' she hissed. 'It'll make things worse.'
' "Ditch-delivered by adrabe", they said. That'll be young Millie Hipwood, who didn't dare tell her mum and then went out gathering firewood. I was up all night with that one,' Nanny muttered. 'Fine girl she produced. It's a slander! What's a drabe?' she added.
'Words,' said Granny, half to herself. 'That's all that's left. Words.'healed.Whoever wrote this Theatre knew about the uses of magic. Even I believe what's happening, and I know there's no truth in it.This is Art holding a Mirror up to Life. That's why everything is exactly the wrong way round.We've lost. There is nothing we can do against this without becoming exactly what we aren't.Nanny Ogg gave her a violent nudge in the ribs.'Did you hear that?' she said. 'One of 'em said we put babbies in the cauldron! They've done a slander on me! I'm not sitting here and have 'em say we
Tuesday, March 17, 2009
Thomas Kinkade Julianne's cottage
Thomas Kinkade Julianne's cottageThomas Kinkade Heather's HutchThomas Kinkade Forest ChapelThomas Kinkade End of a Perfect Day IIIThomas Kinkade End Of A Perfect Day II
pints of your finest ale, landlord,' he said, in tones so carefully judged that the barman was astonished to find himself ?' he said.
The barman pushed the mugs across the puddled counter.
'Here you are,' he said, leering. 'One pint. And one half pint.'obediently filling the first mug before the echoes had died away.Hwel looked up. There was an extremely big man on his right, wearing the outside of several large bulls and more chains than necessary to moor a warship. A face that looked like a building site with hair on it glared down at him.'Bloody hell,' it said. 'It's a bloody lawn ornament.'Hwel went cold. Cosmopolitan as they were, the people of Morpork had a breezy, no-nonsense approach to the non-human races, i.e., hit them over the head with a brick and throw them in the river. This did not apply to trolls, naturally, because it is very difficult to be racially prejudiced against creatures seven feet tall who can bite through walls, at least for very long. But people three feet high were absolutely designed to be discriminated against.The giant prodded Hwel on the top of his head.'Where's your fishing rod, lawn ornament
pints of your finest ale, landlord,' he said, in tones so carefully judged that the barman was astonished to find himself ?' he said.
The barman pushed the mugs across the puddled counter.
'Here you are,' he said, leering. 'One pint. And one half pint.'obediently filling the first mug before the echoes had died away.Hwel looked up. There was an extremely big man on his right, wearing the outside of several large bulls and more chains than necessary to moor a warship. A face that looked like a building site with hair on it glared down at him.'Bloody hell,' it said. 'It's a bloody lawn ornament.'Hwel went cold. Cosmopolitan as they were, the people of Morpork had a breezy, no-nonsense approach to the non-human races, i.e., hit them over the head with a brick and throw them in the river. This did not apply to trolls, naturally, because it is very difficult to be racially prejudiced against creatures seven feet tall who can bite through walls, at least for very long. But people three feet high were absolutely designed to be discriminated against.The giant prodded Hwel on the top of his head.'Where's your fishing rod, lawn ornament
Monday, March 16, 2009
Gustav Klimt Sea Serpents
Gustav Klimt Sea SerpentsGustav Klimt Pear TreeGustav Klimt Fruit TreesGustav Klimt Death and LifeGustav Klimt Beethoven Frieze
The Fool's mind was also working hard. He was beginning to panic.
Magrat shunned the traditional pointed hat, as worn by the older witches, but she still held to one of the most iundamental rules of witchcraft. It's not much use being a witch unless you look like one. In her case this meant She felt an overpowering urge to curse. She knew a great many curses. Goodie Whemper had been really imaginative in that department; even the creatures of the forest used to go past her cottage at a dead run.
She couldn't find a single one that fully expressed her feelings.
'Oh, bugger,' she said.lots of silver jewellery with octograms, bats, spiders, dragons and other symbols of everyday mysticism; Magrat would have painted her fingernails black, except that she didn't think she would be able to face Granny's withering scorn.It was dawning on the Fool that he had surprised a witch.'Whoops,' he said, and turned to run for it.'Don't—' Magrat began, but the Fool was already pounding down the forest path that led back to the castle.Magrat stood and stared at the wilting posy in her hands. She ran her fingers through her hair and a shower of wilted petals fell out.She felt that an important moment had been allowed to slip out of her grasp as fast as a greased pig in a narrow passageway.
The Fool's mind was also working hard. He was beginning to panic.
Magrat shunned the traditional pointed hat, as worn by the older witches, but she still held to one of the most iundamental rules of witchcraft. It's not much use being a witch unless you look like one. In her case this meant She felt an overpowering urge to curse. She knew a great many curses. Goodie Whemper had been really imaginative in that department; even the creatures of the forest used to go past her cottage at a dead run.
She couldn't find a single one that fully expressed her feelings.
'Oh, bugger,' she said.lots of silver jewellery with octograms, bats, spiders, dragons and other symbols of everyday mysticism; Magrat would have painted her fingernails black, except that she didn't think she would be able to face Granny's withering scorn.It was dawning on the Fool that he had surprised a witch.'Whoops,' he said, and turned to run for it.'Don't—' Magrat began, but the Fool was already pounding down the forest path that led back to the castle.Magrat stood and stared at the wilting posy in her hands. She ran her fingers through her hair and a shower of wilted petals fell out.She felt that an important moment had been allowed to slip out of her grasp as fast as a greased pig in a narrow passageway.
Sunday, March 15, 2009
Henri Rousseau The Boat in the Storm
Henri Rousseau The Boat in the StormHenri Rousseau SurpriseHenri Rousseau Sleeping GypsyHenri Rousseau Scout Attacked by a TigerHenri Rousseau Merry Jesters
maysherestinpeace, she used to take me over to Razorback or into Lancre whenever the strolling players were in town. She was very keen on the theatre. They've got more crowns than you can shake a stick at although, mind—' she paused – 'Goodie did say they're made of tin and paper and stuff. And just glass for the jewels. But they look more realler than this one. Do you think that's strange?'
'I think so.'
'And they stroll around the country, you say?' said Granny thoughtfully, looking towards the scullery door.
'All over the place. There's a troupe in Lancre now, I heard. I haven't been because, you know.' Magrat looked down. ' 'Tis not right, a woman going into such places by herself.''Things that try to look like things often do look more like things than things. Well-known fact,' said Granny. 'But I don't hold with encouraging it. What do they stroll about playing, then, in these crowns?''You don't know about the theatre?' said Magrat.Granny Weatherwax, who never declared her ignorance of anything, didn't hesitate. 'Oh, yes,' she said. 'It's one of them style of things, then, is it?''Goodie Whemper said it held a mirror up to life,' said Magrat. 'She said it always cheered her up.''I expect it would,' said Granny, striking out. 'Played properly, at any rate. Good people, are they, these theatre players?'
maysherestinpeace, she used to take me over to Razorback or into Lancre whenever the strolling players were in town. She was very keen on the theatre. They've got more crowns than you can shake a stick at although, mind—' she paused – 'Goodie did say they're made of tin and paper and stuff. And just glass for the jewels. But they look more realler than this one. Do you think that's strange?'
'I think so.'
'And they stroll around the country, you say?' said Granny thoughtfully, looking towards the scullery door.
'All over the place. There's a troupe in Lancre now, I heard. I haven't been because, you know.' Magrat looked down. ' 'Tis not right, a woman going into such places by herself.''Things that try to look like things often do look more like things than things. Well-known fact,' said Granny. 'But I don't hold with encouraging it. What do they stroll about playing, then, in these crowns?''You don't know about the theatre?' said Magrat.Granny Weatherwax, who never declared her ignorance of anything, didn't hesitate. 'Oh, yes,' she said. 'It's one of them style of things, then, is it?''Goodie Whemper said it held a mirror up to life,' said Magrat. 'She said it always cheered her up.''I expect it would,' said Granny, striking out. 'Played properly, at any rate. Good people, are they, these theatre players?'
Thursday, March 12, 2009
Thomas Kinkade Silent Night
Thomas Kinkade Silent NightThomas Kinkade Julianne's cottageThomas Kinkade Heather's Hutch
right,' he said. There is one spell. It slows down time over a little area. I'll write it down, but you'll have to find a wizard to say it.'
'I can do that.'
Albert ran a tongue like an old loofah over his dry lips.
There is a price, though,' he added. 'You must complete the Duty first.'
'Ysabell?' said Mort. She looked at the page in front of her.
'He means it,' she said. 'If you don't then everything will go wrong and he'll drop back into Time anyway.'
All three of them turned to look at the great clock that dominated the hallway. Its pendulum blade sawed slowly on the back of a Great A'Tuin cast in bronze and more than a metre long. The great rivers were represented by veins of jade, the deserts by powdered diamond and the most notable cities were picked outhrough the air, cutting time into little pieces.Mort groaned.'There isn't enough time!' he groaned. 'I can't do both of them in time!''The master would have found time,' observed Albert.Mort wrenched the blade from the doorway and shook it furiously but ineffectually towards Albert, who flinched.'Write down the spell, then,' he shouted. 'And do it fast!'He turned on his heel and stalked back into Death's study. There was a large disc of the world in one corner, complete down to solid silver elephants standing t in precious stones; Ankh-Morpork, for instance, was a carbuncle.
He plonked the two glasses down at the approximate locations of their owners and flopped down in Death's
right,' he said. There is one spell. It slows down time over a little area. I'll write it down, but you'll have to find a wizard to say it.'
'I can do that.'
Albert ran a tongue like an old loofah over his dry lips.
There is a price, though,' he added. 'You must complete the Duty first.'
'Ysabell?' said Mort. She looked at the page in front of her.
'He means it,' she said. 'If you don't then everything will go wrong and he'll drop back into Time anyway.'
All three of them turned to look at the great clock that dominated the hallway. Its pendulum blade sawed slowly on the back of a Great A'Tuin cast in bronze and more than a metre long. The great rivers were represented by veins of jade, the deserts by powdered diamond and the most notable cities were picked outhrough the air, cutting time into little pieces.Mort groaned.'There isn't enough time!' he groaned. 'I can't do both of them in time!''The master would have found time,' observed Albert.Mort wrenched the blade from the doorway and shook it furiously but ineffectually towards Albert, who flinched.'Write down the spell, then,' he shouted. 'And do it fast!'He turned on his heel and stalked back into Death's study. There was a large disc of the world in one corner, complete down to solid silver elephants standing t in precious stones; Ankh-Morpork, for instance, was a carbuncle.
He plonked the two glasses down at the approximate locations of their owners and flopped down in Death's
Thomas Kinkade The Hour of Prayer
Thomas Kinkade The Hour of PrayerThomas Kinkade The Heart of San FranciscoThomas Kinkade Sweetheart Cottage II
pale round face towards Mort.
'I won't hear a word against him. He tries to do his best. It's just that he's always got so much to think about.'
'My father was a bit like hoping that this was approximately the right tone to adopt.
'Yes.'
She scooped a handful of gravel from the path and began to flick it absent-mindedly into the pool.
'Are my eyebrows that bad?' she said.
'Um,' said Mort, 'afraid so.'hoping that this was approximately the right tone to adopt.
'Yes.'
She scooped a handful of gravel from the path and began to flick it absent-mindedly into the pool.
'Are my eyebrows that bad?' she said.
'Um,' said Mort, 'afraid so.'lawn.
'At least I walk as if my legs only had one knee each,' she said.
'My eyes aren't two juugly poached eggs.'
Ysabell nodded. 'On the other hand, my ears don't look like something growing on a dead tree. What does juugly mean?'
pale round face towards Mort.
'I won't hear a word against him. He tries to do his best. It's just that he's always got so much to think about.'
'My father was a bit like hoping that this was approximately the right tone to adopt.
'Yes.'
She scooped a handful of gravel from the path and began to flick it absent-mindedly into the pool.
'Are my eyebrows that bad?' she said.
'Um,' said Mort, 'afraid so.'hoping that this was approximately the right tone to adopt.
'Yes.'
She scooped a handful of gravel from the path and began to flick it absent-mindedly into the pool.
'Are my eyebrows that bad?' she said.
'Um,' said Mort, 'afraid so.'lawn.
'At least I walk as if my legs only had one knee each,' she said.
'My eyes aren't two juugly poached eggs.'
Ysabell nodded. 'On the other hand, my ears don't look like something growing on a dead tree. What does juugly mean?'
Wednesday, March 11, 2009
Claude Monet Water Lilies 1903
Claude Monet Water Lilies 1903Claude Monet Bridge over a Pool of Water LiliesPiet Mondrian Composition with Red Blue Yellow 2
There had been a sound like someone making no noise at all. Forget peas and mattresses – sheer natural selection had established over the years that the royal families that survived longest were those whose members could could have provided cover for an army.
The knife had dropped down behind the bedhead. She probably wouldn't have used it properly anyway.
Screaming for the guards, she decided, was not a good idea. If there was anyone in the room then the guards must have been overpowered, or at least stunned by a large sum of money.
There was a warming pan on the flagstones by the fire. Would it make a weapon?
There was a faint metallic sound.distinguish an assassin in the dark by the noise he was clever enough not to make, because, in court circles, there was always someone ready to cut the heir with a knife.She lay in bed, wondering what to do next. There was a dagger under her pillow. She started to slide one hand up the sheets, while peering around the room with half-closed eyes in search of unfamiliar shadows. She was well aware that if she indicated in any way that she was not asleep she would never wake up again.Some light came into the room from the big window at the far end, but the suits of armour, tapestries and assorted paraphernalia that littered the room
There had been a sound like someone making no noise at all. Forget peas and mattresses – sheer natural selection had established over the years that the royal families that survived longest were those whose members could could have provided cover for an army.
The knife had dropped down behind the bedhead. She probably wouldn't have used it properly anyway.
Screaming for the guards, she decided, was not a good idea. If there was anyone in the room then the guards must have been overpowered, or at least stunned by a large sum of money.
There was a warming pan on the flagstones by the fire. Would it make a weapon?
There was a faint metallic sound.distinguish an assassin in the dark by the noise he was clever enough not to make, because, in court circles, there was always someone ready to cut the heir with a knife.She lay in bed, wondering what to do next. There was a dagger under her pillow. She started to slide one hand up the sheets, while peering around the room with half-closed eyes in search of unfamiliar shadows. She was well aware that if she indicated in any way that she was not asleep she would never wake up again.Some light came into the room from the big window at the far end, but the suits of armour, tapestries and assorted paraphernalia that littered the room
Michael Austin Red Dress
Michael Austin Red DressEdvard Munch The ScreamEdvard Munch Madonna
, I don't see what this has to do with the secrets of time and space.'
Death did not look up from his book.
thought, I've done nearly a quarter, let's call it a third, so when I've done that corner by the hayrack it'll be more than half, call it five-eighths, which means three more wheelbarrow loads. . . . It doesn't prove anything very much except that the awesome splendour of the universe is much easier to deal with if you think of it as a series of small chunks.THAT, he said, is BECAUSE YOU ARE HERE TO LEARN. It is a fact that although the Death of the Discworld is, in his own words, an ANTHROPOMORPHIC PERSONIFICATION, he long ago gave up using the traditional skeletal horses, because of the bother of having to stop all the time to wire bits back on. Now his horses were always flesh-and-blood beasts, from the finest stock.And, Mort learned, very well fed.Some jobs offer increments. This one offered – well, quite the reverse, but at least it was in the warm and fairly easy to get the hang of. After a while he got into the rhythm of it, and started playing the private little quantity-plays in these circumstances. Let's see, he
, I don't see what this has to do with the secrets of time and space.'
Death did not look up from his book.
thought, I've done nearly a quarter, let's call it a third, so when I've done that corner by the hayrack it'll be more than half, call it five-eighths, which means three more wheelbarrow loads. . . . It doesn't prove anything very much except that the awesome splendour of the universe is much easier to deal with if you think of it as a series of small chunks.THAT, he said, is BECAUSE YOU ARE HERE TO LEARN. It is a fact that although the Death of the Discworld is, in his own words, an ANTHROPOMORPHIC PERSONIFICATION, he long ago gave up using the traditional skeletal horses, because of the bother of having to stop all the time to wire bits back on. Now his horses were always flesh-and-blood beasts, from the finest stock.And, Mort learned, very well fed.Some jobs offer increments. This one offered – well, quite the reverse, but at least it was in the warm and fairly easy to get the hang of. After a while he got into the rhythm of it, and started playing the private little quantity-plays in these circumstances. Let's see, he
Monday, March 9, 2009
Edward Hopper Cape Cod Morning
Edward Hopper Cape Cod MorningAmedeo Modigliani the Reclining NudeAlphonse Maria Mucha Summer
tube face of the librarian. He put his finger to his lips in an unmistakable gesture and tugged gently at her hand.
"I've killed him!" she whispered.
The librarian shook his head, and tugged insistently.
"Ook," he explained, "Ook."
He dragged her reluctantly down a side alley-way in the maze of ancient shelving a few seconds before a party of senior wizards, drawn by the noise, rounded the corner.
"The to see if they were right."
"You two, get him along to the infirmary. The rest of you better get these books rounded up. Where's the damn librarian? He ought to know better than to let a Critical Mass build up."
Esk glanced sideways at the orang-outan, who waggled his eyebrows at her. He pulled a dusty volume of out of the shelves beside him, extracted a soft brown banana from the recess behind it, and ate it with the quiet relish of one who knows that whatever the problems are, they belong firmly to human beings.books have been fighting again . . . ." "Oh, no! It'll take ages to capture all the spells again, you know they go and find places to hide . . . ." "Who's that on the floor?" There was a pause. "He's knocked out. A shelf caught him, by the looks of it." "Who is he?" "That new lad. You know; the one they say has got a whole head full of brains?" "If that shelf had been a bit closer we'd be able
tube face of the librarian. He put his finger to his lips in an unmistakable gesture and tugged gently at her hand.
"I've killed him!" she whispered.
The librarian shook his head, and tugged insistently.
"Ook," he explained, "Ook."
He dragged her reluctantly down a side alley-way in the maze of ancient shelving a few seconds before a party of senior wizards, drawn by the noise, rounded the corner.
"The to see if they were right."
"You two, get him along to the infirmary. The rest of you better get these books rounded up. Where's the damn librarian? He ought to know better than to let a Critical Mass build up."
Esk glanced sideways at the orang-outan, who waggled his eyebrows at her. He pulled a dusty volume of out of the shelves beside him, extracted a soft brown banana from the recess behind it, and ate it with the quiet relish of one who knows that whatever the problems are, they belong firmly to human beings.books have been fighting again . . . ." "Oh, no! It'll take ages to capture all the spells again, you know they go and find places to hide . . . ." "Who's that on the floor?" There was a pause. "He's knocked out. A shelf caught him, by the looks of it." "Who is he?" "That new lad. You know; the one they say has got a whole head full of brains?" "If that shelf had been a bit closer we'd be able
Paul Cezanne Mount Sainte Victoire
Paul Cezanne Mount Sainte VictoirePaul Cezanne Card PlayersLaurie Maitland fire
Well, mainly I'm just guessing," said Hilts, sitting back and reaching for the teapot /the lead drummer, who had climbed halfway back, fell on to the toiling cymbalists/. She looked carefully at Esk and added, "A female wizard, eh?"
"Granny is taking me to Unseen University," said Esk.
Hilta Sea," Hilta added. Granny's look of polite enquiry persisted. "Five hundred miles away," said Hilta.
"Oh," said Granny.
She stood up and brushed an imaginary speck of dust off her dress.
"We'd better be going, then," she added.
Hilta laughed. Esk quite liked the sound. Granny never laughed, she merely let the corners of her mouth turn up, but Hilta laughed like someone who had thought hard about life and had seen the joke.
"Start tomorrow, anyway," she said. "I've got room at Home, you can stay with me, and tomorrow you'll have the light."raised her eyebrows. "Do you know where it is?" Granny frowned. "Not in so many words," she admitted. "I was hoping you could give me more explicit directions, you being more familiar with bricks and things." "They say it has many doors, but the ones in this world are in the city of Ankh-Morpork," said Hilta. Granny looked blank. "On the Circle
Well, mainly I'm just guessing," said Hilts, sitting back and reaching for the teapot /the lead drummer, who had climbed halfway back, fell on to the toiling cymbalists/. She looked carefully at Esk and added, "A female wizard, eh?"
"Granny is taking me to Unseen University," said Esk.
Hilta Sea," Hilta added. Granny's look of polite enquiry persisted. "Five hundred miles away," said Hilta.
"Oh," said Granny.
She stood up and brushed an imaginary speck of dust off her dress.
"We'd better be going, then," she added.
Hilta laughed. Esk quite liked the sound. Granny never laughed, she merely let the corners of her mouth turn up, but Hilta laughed like someone who had thought hard about life and had seen the joke.
"Start tomorrow, anyway," she said. "I've got room at Home, you can stay with me, and tomorrow you'll have the light."raised her eyebrows. "Do you know where it is?" Granny frowned. "Not in so many words," she admitted. "I was hoping you could give me more explicit directions, you being more familiar with bricks and things." "They say it has many doors, but the ones in this world are in the city of Ankh-Morpork," said Hilta. Granny looked blank. "On the Circle
Thursday, March 5, 2009
Paul Klee Insula Dulcamara
Paul Klee Insula DulcamaraPaul Klee Fish MagicPaul Klee Around the Fish
I would like it to be clearly understood that this book is not wacky. Only dumb redheads in fifties' sitcoms are wacky.
No, it's not zany, either.
a story about magic and where it goes and perhaps more importantly where it comes from and why, although it doesn't pretend to answer all or any of these questions.
It may, a turtle, ten thousand miles long. It is Great A'Tuin, one of the rare astrochelonians from a universe where things are less as they are and more like people imagine them to be, and it carries on its meteor-pocked shell four giant elephants who bear on their enormous shoulders the great round wheel of the Discworld.
As the viewpoint swings around, the whole of the world can be seen by the light of its tiny orbiting sunhowever, help to explain why Gandalf never got married and why Merlin was a man. Because this is also a story about sex, although probably not in the athletic, tumbling, count-the-legs-and-divide-by-two sense unless the characters get totally beyond the author's control. They might. However, it is primarily a story about a world. Here it comes now. Watch closely, the special effects are quite expensive. A bass note sounds. It is a deep, vibrating chord that hints that the brass section may break in at any moment with a fanfare for the cosmos, because the scene is the blackness of deep space with a few stars glittering like the dandruff on the shoulders of God. Then it comes into view overhead, bigger than the biggest, most unpleasantly armed starcruiser in the imagination of a three-ring film-maker:
I would like it to be clearly understood that this book is not wacky. Only dumb redheads in fifties' sitcoms are wacky.
No, it's not zany, either.
a story about magic and where it goes and perhaps more importantly where it comes from and why, although it doesn't pretend to answer all or any of these questions.
It may, a turtle, ten thousand miles long. It is Great A'Tuin, one of the rare astrochelonians from a universe where things are less as they are and more like people imagine them to be, and it carries on its meteor-pocked shell four giant elephants who bear on their enormous shoulders the great round wheel of the Discworld.
As the viewpoint swings around, the whole of the world can be seen by the light of its tiny orbiting sunhowever, help to explain why Gandalf never got married and why Merlin was a man. Because this is also a story about sex, although probably not in the athletic, tumbling, count-the-legs-and-divide-by-two sense unless the characters get totally beyond the author's control. They might. However, it is primarily a story about a world. Here it comes now. Watch closely, the special effects are quite expensive. A bass note sounds. It is a deep, vibrating chord that hints that the brass section may break in at any moment with a fanfare for the cosmos, because the scene is the blackness of deep space with a few stars glittering like the dandruff on the shoulders of God. Then it comes into view overhead, bigger than the biggest, most unpleasantly armed starcruiser in the imagination of a three-ring film-maker:
Pino LONG STEMMED LOVELIES
Pino LONG STEMMED LOVELIESPino DRESSING TABLEPino DAYDREAMPino DANCING IN BARCELONA
Rincewind opened his eyes and lay for a moment looking up at the stuffed reptile. It was not the best thing to see when awakening from troubled dreams . . .
Magic! So that's what it felt like! No wonder wizards didn't have much truck with sex!
Rincewind knew what orgasms were, of course, he'd had a few in his time, sometimes even in company, but nothing in his experience even approximated to that tight, hot moment when every nerve in his body streamed'I hope it sells knives because I think I'd like to cut my head off,' said Rincewind. Something about the expression of the two opposite him sobered him up.
'That was a joke,' he said. 'Mainly a joke, anyway. Why are we in this shop?'
'We can't get out,' said Bethan. with blue-white fire and raw magic had blazed forth from his fingers. It filled you and lifted you and you surfed down the rising, curling wave of elemental force. No wonder wizards fought for power . . .And so on. The Spell in his head had been doing it, though, not Rincewind. He was really beginning to hate that Spell. He was sure that if it hadn't frightened away all the other spells he'd tried to learn he could have been a decent wizard in his own right. 'Somewhere in Rincewind's battered soul the worm of rebellion flashed a fang.Right, he thought. You're going back into the Octavo, first chance I get.He sat up.'Where the hell is this?' he said, grabbing his head to stop it exploding.'A shop,' said Twoflower mournfully.
Rincewind opened his eyes and lay for a moment looking up at the stuffed reptile. It was not the best thing to see when awakening from troubled dreams . . .
Magic! So that's what it felt like! No wonder wizards didn't have much truck with sex!
Rincewind knew what orgasms were, of course, he'd had a few in his time, sometimes even in company, but nothing in his experience even approximated to that tight, hot moment when every nerve in his body streamed'I hope it sells knives because I think I'd like to cut my head off,' said Rincewind. Something about the expression of the two opposite him sobered him up.
'That was a joke,' he said. 'Mainly a joke, anyway. Why are we in this shop?'
'We can't get out,' said Bethan. with blue-white fire and raw magic had blazed forth from his fingers. It filled you and lifted you and you surfed down the rising, curling wave of elemental force. No wonder wizards fought for power . . .And so on. The Spell in his head had been doing it, though, not Rincewind. He was really beginning to hate that Spell. He was sure that if it hadn't frightened away all the other spells he'd tried to learn he could have been a decent wizard in his own right. 'Somewhere in Rincewind's battered soul the worm of rebellion flashed a fang.Right, he thought. You're going back into the Octavo, first chance I get.He sat up.'Where the hell is this?' he said, grabbing his head to stop it exploding.'A shop,' said Twoflower mournfully.
Tuesday, March 3, 2009
Paul Klee Red Ballon
Paul Klee Red BallonPaul Klee Park of IdolsPaul Klee Park bei LuzernPaul Klee On a Motif from Hamamet
'You've set a tracker?'
'In a manner of speaking.'
'A hero?' Wert managed to pack a lot of meaning into the one word. In such a tone of voice, in another universe, would a Southerner say 'damnyankee'.
The wizards looked at Trymon, open-mouthed.
'Yes,' he said calmly.
'On whose authority?' demanded Wert. Trymon turned his grey eyes on him.
'Mine. I needed no other.'
'It's – it's highly irregular! Since when have wizards needed to hire heroes to do their work for them?'
'Ever since wizards found their magic wouldn't work,' said Trymon.
'A reply, that's a pretty good allegation coming from a bunch of wimpsoes who won't go near a woman on account, can you believe it, of their mystical power being sort of drained out. Right, say the wizards, that just about does it, you and your leather posing pouches. Oh yeah, say the heroes, why don't you . . .
And so on. This sort of thing has been going on for centuries, temporary setback, nothing more.'Trymon shrugged. 'Maybe,' he said, 'but we haven't the time to find out. Prove me wrong. Find Rincewind by scrying or talking to birds. But as for me, I know I'm meant to be wise. And wise men do what the times demand.'It is a well known fact that warriors and wizards do not get along, because one side considers the other side to be a collection of bloodthirsty idiots who can't walk and think at the same time, while the other side is naturally suspicious of a body of men who mumble a lot and wear long dresses. Oh, say the wizards, if we're going to be like that, then, what about all those studded collars and oiled muscles down at the Young Men's Pagan Association? To which the heroes
'You've set a tracker?'
'In a manner of speaking.'
'A hero?' Wert managed to pack a lot of meaning into the one word. In such a tone of voice, in another universe, would a Southerner say 'damnyankee'.
The wizards looked at Trymon, open-mouthed.
'Yes,' he said calmly.
'On whose authority?' demanded Wert. Trymon turned his grey eyes on him.
'Mine. I needed no other.'
'It's – it's highly irregular! Since when have wizards needed to hire heroes to do their work for them?'
'Ever since wizards found their magic wouldn't work,' said Trymon.
'A reply, that's a pretty good allegation coming from a bunch of wimpsoes who won't go near a woman on account, can you believe it, of their mystical power being sort of drained out. Right, say the wizards, that just about does it, you and your leather posing pouches. Oh yeah, say the heroes, why don't you . . .
And so on. This sort of thing has been going on for centuries, temporary setback, nothing more.'Trymon shrugged. 'Maybe,' he said, 'but we haven't the time to find out. Prove me wrong. Find Rincewind by scrying or talking to birds. But as for me, I know I'm meant to be wise. And wise men do what the times demand.'It is a well known fact that warriors and wizards do not get along, because one side considers the other side to be a collection of bloodthirsty idiots who can't walk and think at the same time, while the other side is naturally suspicious of a body of men who mumble a lot and wear long dresses. Oh, say the wizards, if we're going to be like that, then, what about all those studded collars and oiled muscles down at the Young Men's Pagan Association? To which the heroes
Monday, March 2, 2009
Louis Aston Knight A Riverside Cottage
Louis Aston Knight A Riverside CottageAndrea Mantegna Madonna with Sleeping ChildAlbert Bierstadt California SpringAlbert Bierstadt The Mountain Brook
all in translucent misty white.
There was Great A'Tuin, and the four elephants, and the Disc itself. From this angle Galder couldn't see the surface very well, but he knew with cold certainty that it would be absolutely accurately modelled. He could, though, just but his voice refused to come out.
Gently, but with the unstoppable force of an explosion, the shape expanded.
He watched in horror, and then in astonishment, as it passed through him as lightly as a thought. He held out a hand and watched the pale ghosts of rock strata stream through his fingers in busy silence.
Great A'Tuin had already sunk peacefully below floor level, larger than a house.make out a miniature replica of Cori Celesti, upon whose utter peak the world's quarrelsome and somewhat bourgeois gods lived in a palace of marble, alabaster and uncut moquette three-piece suites they had chosen to call Dunmanifestin. It was always a considerable annoyance to any Disc citizen with pretensions to culture that they were ruled by gods whose idea of an uplifting artistic experience was a musical doorbell.The little embryo universe began to move slowly, tilting . . .Galder tried to shout,
all in translucent misty white.
There was Great A'Tuin, and the four elephants, and the Disc itself. From this angle Galder couldn't see the surface very well, but he knew with cold certainty that it would be absolutely accurately modelled. He could, though, just but his voice refused to come out.
Gently, but with the unstoppable force of an explosion, the shape expanded.
He watched in horror, and then in astonishment, as it passed through him as lightly as a thought. He held out a hand and watched the pale ghosts of rock strata stream through his fingers in busy silence.
Great A'Tuin had already sunk peacefully below floor level, larger than a house.make out a miniature replica of Cori Celesti, upon whose utter peak the world's quarrelsome and somewhat bourgeois gods lived in a palace of marble, alabaster and uncut moquette three-piece suites they had chosen to call Dunmanifestin. It was always a considerable annoyance to any Disc citizen with pretensions to culture that they were ruled by gods whose idea of an uplifting artistic experience was a musical doorbell.The little embryo universe began to move slowly, tilting . . .Galder tried to shout,
Sunday, March 1, 2009
John William Waterhouse Juliet
John William Waterhouse JulietJohn William Waterhouse Flora and the ZephyrsJohn William Waterhouse Apollo and DaphneVincent van Gogh On the Outskirts of Paris
on either side. Tiny woods and fields blurred into a rushing patchwork. A brief silvery flash in the landscape may have started to bay. Their riders looked up. And something like a green blur flashed across the arena, and Hrun had gone. The winecup hung momentarily in the air, then crashed down on the steps. Only then did a single drop spill.
This was because, in the instant of enfolding Hrun gently in his claws, Ninereeds the dragon had momentarily synchronized their bodily rhythms. Since the dimension of the imagination is much more complex than those of time and space, which are very junior dimensions indeed, the effect of this was to instantly transform a stationary been the little river that overflowed into the air at the plateau's rim. Rincewind tried to force the memory out of his mind , but it was rather enjoying itself there, terrorizing the other occupants and kicking over the furniture. "I think not," said Liessa.Hrun took the wine cup, slowly. He grinned like a pumpkin.Around the arena the dragons
on either side. Tiny woods and fields blurred into a rushing patchwork. A brief silvery flash in the landscape may have started to bay. Their riders looked up. And something like a green blur flashed across the arena, and Hrun had gone. The winecup hung momentarily in the air, then crashed down on the steps. Only then did a single drop spill.
This was because, in the instant of enfolding Hrun gently in his claws, Ninereeds the dragon had momentarily synchronized their bodily rhythms. Since the dimension of the imagination is much more complex than those of time and space, which are very junior dimensions indeed, the effect of this was to instantly transform a stationary been the little river that overflowed into the air at the plateau's rim. Rincewind tried to force the memory out of his mind , but it was rather enjoying itself there, terrorizing the other occupants and kicking over the furniture. "I think not," said Liessa.Hrun took the wine cup, slowly. He grinned like a pumpkin.Around the arena the dragons
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