Gustav Klimt Pear TreeGustav Klimt Fruit TreesGustav Klimt Death and LifeGustav Klimt Beethoven Frieze
don't have to,' said Angua.
'It's no trouble—'
The door opened.
Angua's nostrils flared. There was a smell . . .
A beggar looked Carrot up and down. His mouth dropped open.
'It's Cumbling Michael, Michael, 'we give in. How did you know?'
'How did we know wh—' Carrot began, but Angua nudged him.
'Someone's been killed here,' she said.
'Who's she?' said Cumbling Michael.
'Lance-Constable Angua is a man of the Watch,' said Carrot.
'Har, har,' said Gaspode.isn't it?' said Carrot, in his cheery way.The door slammed.'Well, that wasn't very friendly,' said Carrot.'Stinks, don't it?' said a nasty little voice from somewhere behind Angua. While she was in no mood to acknowledge Gaspode, she found herself nodding. Although the beggars were an entire cocktail of odours the second biggest one was fear, and the biggest of all was blood. The scent of it made her want to scream.There was a babble of voices behind the door, and it swung open again.This time there was a whole crowd of beggars there. They were all staring at Carrot.All right, yer honour,' said the one hailed as Cumbling
Tuesday 28 April 2009
Paul Klee Red And White Domes
Paul Klee Red And White DomesPaul Klee Fire in the EveningPaul Klee FarbtafelClaude Monet Haystack at Giverny
means "man of the polis". That's an old word for city.'
'Yes?'
'I read it in a book. Man of the city.'
She glanced sideways at him again. His face glowed in the light of a torch on the street corner, but it had some inner glow of its own.
He's proud. She remembered the oath.
Proud of only have something to gain.'
She waited to see if he'd fail to pick this one up, too. He did.
'Sergeant Colon wrote the notice,' said Carrot. 'He's a fairly direct thinker.'
He sniffed.
'Can you smell something?' he said. 'Smells like . . . a bit like someone's thrown away an old privy carpet?'
'Oh, thank you very much,' said a voice very low down, somewhere being in the damn Watch, for gods 'sake—'Why did you join?' he said.'Me? Oh, I . . . I like to eat meals and sleep indoors. Anyway, there isn't that much choice, is there? It was that or become . . . hah . . . a 'And you're not very good at sewing?'Angua's sharp glance saw nothing but honest innocence in his face.'Yes,' she said, giving up, 'that's right. And then I saw this poster. "The City Watche Needs Men! Be A Man In The City Watche!" So I thought I'd give it a go. After all, I'd
means "man of the polis". That's an old word for city.'
'Yes?'
'I read it in a book. Man of the city.'
She glanced sideways at him again. His face glowed in the light of a torch on the street corner, but it had some inner glow of its own.
He's proud. She remembered the oath.
Proud of only have something to gain.'
She waited to see if he'd fail to pick this one up, too. He did.
'Sergeant Colon wrote the notice,' said Carrot. 'He's a fairly direct thinker.'
He sniffed.
'Can you smell something?' he said. 'Smells like . . . a bit like someone's thrown away an old privy carpet?'
'Oh, thank you very much,' said a voice very low down, somewhere being in the damn Watch, for gods 'sake—'Why did you join?' he said.'Me? Oh, I . . . I like to eat meals and sleep indoors. Anyway, there isn't that much choice, is there? It was that or become . . . hah . . . a 'And you're not very good at sewing?'Angua's sharp glance saw nothing but honest innocence in his face.'Yes,' she said, giving up, 'that's right. And then I saw this poster. "The City Watche Needs Men! Be A Man In The City Watche!" So I thought I'd give it a go. After all, I'd
Sunday 26 April 2009
Edward Hopper Lighthouse Hill
Edward Hopper Lighthouse HillEdward Hopper Hotel RoomEdward Hopper Hotel LobbyEdward Hopper Girlie Show
Colon looked down and took a step back. The swelling curve of his more than adequate stomach moved aside to reveal the upturned face of Lance-Constable Cuddy, with its helpful intelligent expression and one glass eye.
'Oh. Right.'
'I'm taller than I 'Sergeant Colon has always had a lot on his plate, I should say,' said the Patrician.
'With the new recruits, I mean,' said Vimes, meaningfully. 'You remember, sir?'
The ones you told me I had to have? he added in the privacy of his head. They weren't to go in the Day Watch, of course. And those bastards in the Palace Guard wouldn't take them, either. Oh, no. Put 'em in the Night look.'Oh, gods, thought Sergeant Colon wearily. Add 'em up and divide by two and you've got two normal men, except normal men don't join the Guard. A troll and a dwarf. And that ain't the worst of it— Vimes drummed his fingers on the desk.'Not Colon, then,' he said. 'He's not as young as he was. Time he stayed in the Watch House, keeping up on the paperwork. Besides, he's got a lot on his plate.'
Colon looked down and took a step back. The swelling curve of his more than adequate stomach moved aside to reveal the upturned face of Lance-Constable Cuddy, with its helpful intelligent expression and one glass eye.
'Oh. Right.'
'I'm taller than I 'Sergeant Colon has always had a lot on his plate, I should say,' said the Patrician.
'With the new recruits, I mean,' said Vimes, meaningfully. 'You remember, sir?'
The ones you told me I had to have? he added in the privacy of his head. They weren't to go in the Day Watch, of course. And those bastards in the Palace Guard wouldn't take them, either. Oh, no. Put 'em in the Night look.'Oh, gods, thought Sergeant Colon wearily. Add 'em up and divide by two and you've got two normal men, except normal men don't join the Guard. A troll and a dwarf. And that ain't the worst of it— Vimes drummed his fingers on the desk.'Not Colon, then,' he said. 'He's not as young as he was. Time he stayed in the Watch House, keeping up on the paperwork. Besides, he's got a lot on his plate.'
Friday 24 April 2009
Alphonse Maria Mucha Spring
Alphonse Maria Mucha SpringAlphonse Maria Mucha JOBAlphonse Maria Mucha Gismonda
sure what to say next.
“You meddled in a play,” said Granny. “I believe you
don’t realize what you’ve done. Plays and books . . . you’ve
got to keep an eye on the buggers. They’ll turn on you. I
280.
“They don’t. Sometimes they want you. That’s different. But all you can give ‘em is gold that melts away in the morning.”
“There are those who would say that gold for one night is enough.”
“No.”
“Better than iron, you stupid old hag, you stupid child who has grown older and done nothing LORDS ft/YD LftQIEQmean to see that they do.” She nodded amicably at an elf covered in woad and badly tanned skins. “Ain’t that so, Fairy Peaseblossom?”The Queen’s brows knotted.“But that is not his name,” she said.Granny Weatherwax gave the Queen a bright smile.“We shall see,” she said. “There’s a lot more humans these days, and lots of them live in cities, and they don’t know much about elves one way or another. And they’ve got iron in their heads. You’re too late.”“No. Humans always need us,” said the Queen
sure what to say next.
“You meddled in a play,” said Granny. “I believe you
don’t realize what you’ve done. Plays and books . . . you’ve
got to keep an eye on the buggers. They’ll turn on you. I
280.
“They don’t. Sometimes they want you. That’s different. But all you can give ‘em is gold that melts away in the morning.”
“There are those who would say that gold for one night is enough.”
“No.”
“Better than iron, you stupid old hag, you stupid child who has grown older and done nothing LORDS ft/YD LftQIEQmean to see that they do.” She nodded amicably at an elf covered in woad and badly tanned skins. “Ain’t that so, Fairy Peaseblossom?”The Queen’s brows knotted.“But that is not his name,” she said.Granny Weatherwax gave the Queen a bright smile.“We shall see,” she said. “There’s a lot more humans these days, and lots of them live in cities, and they don’t know much about elves one way or another. And they’ve got iron in their heads. You’re too late.”“No. Humans always need us,” said the Queen
Wednesday 22 April 2009
Frida Kahlo What the Water Gave Me
Frida Kahlo What the Water Gave MeFrida Kahlo Two Nudes in the ForestFrida Kahlo Self Portrait with Thorn Necklace
shook her head. She could think of at least three ways of getting into the room, and only one of them involved going through the door. But there was a time and a place for witchcraft, and this wasn’t it. Nanny Ogg had led a long and generally happy life by knowing when not to be a witch, and this was one of those times.
She went down the stairs and out of the castle. Shawn was standing guard at the main gate, surreptitiously practic-ing karate chops on the evening air. He stopped and looked embarrassed as Nanny Ogg approached.
“Wish I was goingTerry Pratchett
“They’ve got some special provisions in, what with the wedding and all the gentry here,” said Casanunda. “I’ve made special arrangements.”
These had been quite difficult. to the Entertainment, Mum.” “I daresay the king will be very generous to you come payday on account of your duty,” said Nanny Ogg. “Remind me to remind him.”“Aren’t you going?”“Well, I’m . . . I’m just going for a stroll into town,” said Nanny. “I expect Esme went with ‘em, did she?” “Couldn’t say, Mum.”“Just a few things I got to do.”She hadn’t gone much further before a voice behind her said, “Ello, oh moon of my delight.”“You do sneak up on people, Casanunda.”“I’ve arranged for us to have dinner at the Goat and Bush,” said the dwarf Count.“Ooo, that’s a horrible expensive place,” said Nanny Ogg. “Never eaten there.”191
shook her head. She could think of at least three ways of getting into the room, and only one of them involved going through the door. But there was a time and a place for witchcraft, and this wasn’t it. Nanny Ogg had led a long and generally happy life by knowing when not to be a witch, and this was one of those times.
She went down the stairs and out of the castle. Shawn was standing guard at the main gate, surreptitiously practic-ing karate chops on the evening air. He stopped and looked embarrassed as Nanny Ogg approached.
“Wish I was goingTerry Pratchett
“They’ve got some special provisions in, what with the wedding and all the gentry here,” said Casanunda. “I’ve made special arrangements.”
These had been quite difficult. to the Entertainment, Mum.” “I daresay the king will be very generous to you come payday on account of your duty,” said Nanny Ogg. “Remind me to remind him.”“Aren’t you going?”“Well, I’m . . . I’m just going for a stroll into town,” said Nanny. “I expect Esme went with ‘em, did she?” “Couldn’t say, Mum.”“Just a few things I got to do.”She hadn’t gone much further before a voice behind her said, “Ello, oh moon of my delight.”“You do sneak up on people, Casanunda.”“I’ve arranged for us to have dinner at the Goat and Bush,” said the dwarf Count.“Ooo, that’s a horrible expensive place,” said Nanny Ogg. “Never eaten there.”191
Tuesday 21 April 2009
Pop art guitar
Pop art guitarPop art guitar playerPop art elvis
Nothing funny about the Tooth Fairy,” said Granny. “Very hard-working woman. I’ll never know how she man-ages with the ladder and everything. No. Elves are real. Oh, drat. Listen...”
She turned, and held up a finger.
“Feudal system, they want, and they want everything. But worst of all, the worst bit is ... they read your mind. They hear what you think, and in self-defense you think what they want. Glamour. And it’s barred windows at night, and food out for the fairies, and turning around three times before you talks about ‘em, and horseshoes over the door.”right?”“What?”“Feudal system! Pay attention. Feudal system. King ontop, then barons and whatnot, then everyone else .. . witchesoff to one side a bit,” Granny added diplomatically. She131Terry Pratchettsteepled her fingers. “Feudal system. Like them pointy build-ings heathen kings get buried in. Understand?”“Yes.”“Right. That’s how the elves see things, yes? When they get into a world, everyone else is on the bottom. Slaves. Worse than slaves. Worse than animals, even. They take what
Nothing funny about the Tooth Fairy,” said Granny. “Very hard-working woman. I’ll never know how she man-ages with the ladder and everything. No. Elves are real. Oh, drat. Listen...”
She turned, and held up a finger.
“Feudal system, they want, and they want everything. But worst of all, the worst bit is ... they read your mind. They hear what you think, and in self-defense you think what they want. Glamour. And it’s barred windows at night, and food out for the fairies, and turning around three times before you talks about ‘em, and horseshoes over the door.”right?”“What?”“Feudal system! Pay attention. Feudal system. King ontop, then barons and whatnot, then everyone else .. . witchesoff to one side a bit,” Granny added diplomatically. She131Terry Pratchettsteepled her fingers. “Feudal system. Like them pointy build-ings heathen kings get buried in. Understand?”“Yes.”“Right. That’s how the elves see things, yes? When they get into a world, everyone else is on the bottom. Slaves. Worse than slaves. Worse than animals, even. They take what
Monday 20 April 2009
George Inness Passing Clouds
George Inness Passing CloudsGeorge Inness End of DayGeorge Inness Early Moonrise Florida
everyone lived in the turrets and halls near the gate.
“I mean, look at the crenellations,” said Magrat.
“What, m’m?”
“The cut-out bits on top of the walls. You could hold off an army here.”
“That’s what a castle’s for, isn’t it, m’m?”
Magrat sighed. “Can we stop the ‘m’m’, please? It makes you sound uncertain.”
“Mm, Terry Pratchett
“And we haven’t even measured half the windows yet,” said Magrat, rolling up the tape measure.
She looked down the length of the Long Gallery. The thing about it, the thing that made it so noticeable, the first thing anyone noticed about it, was that it was very long. It shared certain distinctive traits with the Great Hall and the Deep Dungeonsm’m?”“I mean, who is there to fight up here? Not even trolls could come over the mountains, and anyone coming up the road is asking for a rock on the head. Besides, you only have to cut down Lancre bridge.”“Dunno, m’m. Kings’ve got to have castles, I s’pose.”“Don’t you ever wonder about anything, you stupid girl?”“What good does that do, m’m?”I called her a stupid girl, thought Magrat. Royalty is rub-bing off on me.“Oh, well,” she said, “where’ve we got to?”“We’re going to need two thousand yards of the blue chintz material with the little white flowers,” said Millie.95
everyone lived in the turrets and halls near the gate.
“I mean, look at the crenellations,” said Magrat.
“What, m’m?”
“The cut-out bits on top of the walls. You could hold off an army here.”
“That’s what a castle’s for, isn’t it, m’m?”
Magrat sighed. “Can we stop the ‘m’m’, please? It makes you sound uncertain.”
“Mm, Terry Pratchett
“And we haven’t even measured half the windows yet,” said Magrat, rolling up the tape measure.
She looked down the length of the Long Gallery. The thing about it, the thing that made it so noticeable, the first thing anyone noticed about it, was that it was very long. It shared certain distinctive traits with the Great Hall and the Deep Dungeonsm’m?”“I mean, who is there to fight up here? Not even trolls could come over the mountains, and anyone coming up the road is asking for a rock on the head. Besides, you only have to cut down Lancre bridge.”“Dunno, m’m. Kings’ve got to have castles, I s’pose.”“Don’t you ever wonder about anything, you stupid girl?”“What good does that do, m’m?”I called her a stupid girl, thought Magrat. Royalty is rub-bing off on me.“Oh, well,” she said, “where’ve we got to?”“We’re going to need two thousand yards of the blue chintz material with the little white flowers,” said Millie.95
Friday 17 April 2009
Cao Yong GARDEN BEAUTIES
Cao Yong GARDEN BEAUTIESCao Yong FRIENDSCao Yong Freedom
circles, of course,” she said.
“Oh, no,” said Magrat. “I can tell by the way you said it.
23
Terry Pratehett
You said Them as though it was some sort of curse. It wasn’t just a them, it was a them with a capital The.”
The old witches looked awkward again.
“And who’s the Long Man?” said Magrat.
“We do not,” said Granny, “ever talk about the Long Man.”
“No harm in telling her Ogg.
Magrat snapped.
“You just do this on purpose! You talk in code the whole
time! You always do this! But you won’t be able to when I’m
queen”
That stopped them.about the Dancers, at any rate,” mumbled Nanny Ogg.“Yes, but ... you know ... I mean . . . she’s Magrat,” said Granny.“What’s that meant to mean?” Magrat demanded.“You probably won’t feel the same way about Them, is what I am saying,” said Granny.“We’re talking about the—“ Nanny Ogg began.“Don’t name ‘em!”“Yeah, right. Sorry.”“Mind you, a circle might not find the Dancers,” said Granny. “We can always hope. Could be just random.”“But if one opens up inside the—“ said Nanny
Nanny Ogg put her head on one side.
“Oh?” she said. “Young Verence popped the question, then
circles, of course,” she said.
“Oh, no,” said Magrat. “I can tell by the way you said it.
23
Terry Pratehett
You said Them as though it was some sort of curse. It wasn’t just a them, it was a them with a capital The.”
The old witches looked awkward again.
“And who’s the Long Man?” said Magrat.
“We do not,” said Granny, “ever talk about the Long Man.”
“No harm in telling her Ogg.
Magrat snapped.
“You just do this on purpose! You talk in code the whole
time! You always do this! But you won’t be able to when I’m
queen”
That stopped them.about the Dancers, at any rate,” mumbled Nanny Ogg.“Yes, but ... you know ... I mean . . . she’s Magrat,” said Granny.“What’s that meant to mean?” Magrat demanded.“You probably won’t feel the same way about Them, is what I am saying,” said Granny.“We’re talking about the—“ Nanny Ogg began.“Don’t name ‘em!”“Yeah, right. Sorry.”“Mind you, a circle might not find the Dancers,” said Granny. “We can always hope. Could be just random.”“But if one opens up inside the—“ said Nanny
Nanny Ogg put her head on one side.
“Oh?” she said. “Young Verence popped the question, then
Thursday 16 April 2009
Frederic Edwin Church Jerusalem from the Mount of Olives
Frederic Edwin Church Jerusalem from the Mount of OlivesWilliam Merritt Chase On the Lake Central ParkWilliam Merritt Chase The Nursery
shouting, mister! There's guards around!"
Urn let the water gush for a moment as he struggled out of his robe, and then he rammed the sodden material into the pipe. It shot out again with some force and slapped wetly against the lead funnel, sliding down until it blocked the tube that led to the weights. The water piled up behind it and then spilled over on to the floor.
Urn glanced at theHe gestured with his spanner.
"Well, it's the seating, innit," he said. "You've got shocking seepage around the seating. Amazing it holds together."
The man stepped into the room. He glared uncertainly at Urn for a moment and then turned his attention to the gushing pipe. And then back to Urn.
"But you're not-” he began.
He spun around as Fergmen hit the guard hard with a le weight. It hadn't begun to move.He relaxed slightly. Now, provided there was still enough water to make the weight drop . . ."Both of you-stand still."He looked around, his mind going numb.There was a heavy-set man in a black robe standing in the stricken doorway. Behind him, a guard held a sword in a meaningful manner."Who are you? Why are you here?"Urn hesitated for only a moment.
shouting, mister! There's guards around!"
Urn let the water gush for a moment as he struggled out of his robe, and then he rammed the sodden material into the pipe. It shot out again with some force and slapped wetly against the lead funnel, sliding down until it blocked the tube that led to the weights. The water piled up behind it and then spilled over on to the floor.
Urn glanced at theHe gestured with his spanner.
"Well, it's the seating, innit," he said. "You've got shocking seepage around the seating. Amazing it holds together."
The man stepped into the room. He glared uncertainly at Urn for a moment and then turned his attention to the gushing pipe. And then back to Urn.
"But you're not-” he began.
He spun around as Fergmen hit the guard hard with a le weight. It hadn't begun to move.He relaxed slightly. Now, provided there was still enough water to make the weight drop . . ."Both of you-stand still."He looked around, his mind going numb.There was a heavy-set man in a black robe standing in the stricken doorway. Behind him, a guard held a sword in a meaningful manner."Who are you? Why are you here?"Urn hesitated for only a moment.
Wednesday 15 April 2009
Henri Matisse The Moroccans
Henri Matisse The MoroccansHenri Matisse Still Life with OrangesHenri Matisse Open Window Collioure
They all turned.
"Did you hear me?" said Sergeant Simony, pushing his way forward.
"But the deacon told us-”
"Corporal?"
"Yes, sergeant?"
"The deacon is far away. I am right here."
"Yes, sergeant." Go.
"Yes, sergeant."
Simony cocked an ear as the soldiers marched away.
Then he stuck his sword in the door and turned to Didactylos. He made a fist with his left hand and brought his right hand down on it, palm extended.
"The Turtle Moves," he said.
"That all depends," said the philosopher, cautiously.
"I mean I am .is that Vorbis means to have you killed and he will burn your Library. But I can help. I worked it out on the way here."
"And don't listen to him," said Simony. He dropped on one knee in front of Didact . . a friend," he said."Why should we trust you?" said Urn."Because you haven't got any choice," said Sergeant Simony briskly."Can you get us out of here?" said Brutha.Simony glared at him. "You?" he said. "Why should I get you out of here? You're an inquisitor!" He grasped his sword.Brutha backed away."I'm not!""On the ship, when the captain sounded you, you just said nothing," said Simony. "You're not one of us.""I don't think I'm one of them, either," said Brutha. "I'm one of mine."He gave Didactylos an imploring look, which was a wasted effort, and turned it towards Urn instead."I don't know about this soldier," he said. "All I know ylos, like a supplicant. "Sir, there are . . . some of us . . . who know your book for what it is . . . see, I have
They all turned.
"Did you hear me?" said Sergeant Simony, pushing his way forward.
"But the deacon told us-”
"Corporal?"
"Yes, sergeant?"
"The deacon is far away. I am right here."
"Yes, sergeant." Go.
"Yes, sergeant."
Simony cocked an ear as the soldiers marched away.
Then he stuck his sword in the door and turned to Didactylos. He made a fist with his left hand and brought his right hand down on it, palm extended.
"The Turtle Moves," he said.
"That all depends," said the philosopher, cautiously.
"I mean I am .is that Vorbis means to have you killed and he will burn your Library. But I can help. I worked it out on the way here."
"And don't listen to him," said Simony. He dropped on one knee in front of Didact . . a friend," he said."Why should we trust you?" said Urn."Because you haven't got any choice," said Sergeant Simony briskly."Can you get us out of here?" said Brutha.Simony glared at him. "You?" he said. "Why should I get you out of here? You're an inquisitor!" He grasped his sword.Brutha backed away."I'm not!""On the ship, when the captain sounded you, you just said nothing," said Simony. "You're not one of us.""I don't think I'm one of them, either," said Brutha. "I'm one of mine."He gave Didactylos an imploring look, which was a wasted effort, and turned it towards Urn instead."I don't know about this soldier," he said. "All I know ylos, like a supplicant. "Sir, there are . . . some of us . . . who know your book for what it is . . . see, I have
Tuesday 14 April 2009
Johannes Vermeer The Kitchen Maid
Johannes Vermeer The Kitchen MaidDiane Romanello Sunset BeachGustav Klimt The Virgins (Le Vergini)Gustav Klimt The Three Ages of Woman
then the truth hit Om like the ground hits tortoises after an attack of eagles.
"You've got to take me to this Ephebe place," he said urgently.
"I'll do whatever you want," said Brutha. "Are you going to scourge it with hoof and flame?"
"Could be, could be," said Om. "But you've got to take me." He was trying to keep his innermost thoughts calm, in case Brutha heard. Don't leave me behind!
"But you could get there much quicker if I left you," said Brutha. "They are very wicked in Ephebe. The sooner it is flame of belief was this: in all the Citadel, in all the day, it was the only one the God had found.
Fri'it was trying to pray.
He hadn't done so for a long time.cleansed, the better. You could stop being a tortoise and fly there like a burning wind and scourge the city."A burning wind, thought Om. And the tortoise thought of the silent wastes of the deep desert, and the chittering and sighing of the gods who had faded away to mere djinns and voices on the air.Gods with no more believers.Not even one. One was just enough.Gods who had been left behind.And the thing about Brutha's
then the truth hit Om like the ground hits tortoises after an attack of eagles.
"You've got to take me to this Ephebe place," he said urgently.
"I'll do whatever you want," said Brutha. "Are you going to scourge it with hoof and flame?"
"Could be, could be," said Om. "But you've got to take me." He was trying to keep his innermost thoughts calm, in case Brutha heard. Don't leave me behind!
"But you could get there much quicker if I left you," said Brutha. "They are very wicked in Ephebe. The sooner it is flame of belief was this: in all the Citadel, in all the day, it was the only one the God had found.
Fri'it was trying to pray.
He hadn't done so for a long time.cleansed, the better. You could stop being a tortoise and fly there like a burning wind and scourge the city."A burning wind, thought Om. And the tortoise thought of the silent wastes of the deep desert, and the chittering and sighing of the gods who had faded away to mere djinns and voices on the air.Gods with no more believers.Not even one. One was just enough.Gods who had been left behind.And the thing about Brutha's
Monday 13 April 2009
Caravaggio Judith Beheading Holofernes
Caravaggio Judith Beheading HolofernesCaravaggio Amor Vincit OmniaPierre-Auguste Cot Le Printemps
Very noble bird, the eagle. Intelligent, too," said the elderly man. "Interesting fact: eagles are the only birds to work out how to eat tortoises. You know? They pick them up, flying up very high, and drop them on to the rocks. Smashes . "Tell you what," he said. "Two bags of sugared dates for the price of one, how about it? And that's cutting my own hand off."
The woman glanced at the tray.
"Ere, there's flies all over everything!" she said.
"Currants, madam."
"Why'd they just fly away, then?" the woman demanded.them right open. Amazing.""One day," said a dull voice from down below, "I'm going to be back on form again and you're going to be very sorry you said that. For a very long time. I might even go so far as to make even more Time just for you to be sorry in. Or . . . no, I'll make you a tortoise. See how you like it, eh? That rushing wind around y'shell, the ground getting bigger the whole time. That'd be an interesting fact!""That sounds dreadful," said the woman, looking up at the eagle's glare. "I wonder what passes through the poor little creature's head when he's dropped?""His shell, madam," said the Great God Om, trying to squeeze himself even further under the bronze overhang.The man with the tray was looking dejected
Very noble bird, the eagle. Intelligent, too," said the elderly man. "Interesting fact: eagles are the only birds to work out how to eat tortoises. You know? They pick them up, flying up very high, and drop them on to the rocks. Smashes . "Tell you what," he said. "Two bags of sugared dates for the price of one, how about it? And that's cutting my own hand off."
The woman glanced at the tray.
"Ere, there's flies all over everything!" she said.
"Currants, madam."
"Why'd they just fly away, then?" the woman demanded.them right open. Amazing.""One day," said a dull voice from down below, "I'm going to be back on form again and you're going to be very sorry you said that. For a very long time. I might even go so far as to make even more Time just for you to be sorry in. Or . . . no, I'll make you a tortoise. See how you like it, eh? That rushing wind around y'shell, the ground getting bigger the whole time. That'd be an interesting fact!""That sounds dreadful," said the woman, looking up at the eagle's glare. "I wonder what passes through the poor little creature's head when he's dropped?""His shell, madam," said the Great God Om, trying to squeeze himself even further under the bronze overhang.The man with the tray was looking dejected
Gustav Klimt Goldfish (detail)
Gustav Klimt Goldfish (detail)Salvador Dali TigerSalvador Dali The Sacrament of the Last Supper
wasn't just the Great God that spoke to Vorbis, in the confines of his head. Everyone spoke to an exquisitor, sooner or later. It was just a matter of stamina.
Vorbis didn't man that the Creator of mankind had a very oblique sense of fun indeed, and to breed in his heart a rage to storm the gates of heaven.
The mugs, for example. The inquisitors stopped work twice a day for coffee. Their mugs, which each man had brought from home, were grouped around the kettle on the hearth of the central furnace which incidentally heated the irons and knives.
They had legends on them like A Present From the Holy Grotto of Ossory, or To The World's Greatest Daddy. Most of them were chipped, and no two of them were the same.often go down to watch the inquisitors at work these days. Exquisitors didn't have to. He sent down instructions, he received reports. But special circumstances merited his special attention.It has to be said . . . there was little to laugh at in the cellar of the Quisition. Not if you had a normal sense of humor. There were no jolly little signs saying: You Don't Have To Be Pitilessly Sadistic To Work Here But It Helps!!!But there were things to suggest to a thinking
wasn't just the Great God that spoke to Vorbis, in the confines of his head. Everyone spoke to an exquisitor, sooner or later. It was just a matter of stamina.
Vorbis didn't man that the Creator of mankind had a very oblique sense of fun indeed, and to breed in his heart a rage to storm the gates of heaven.
The mugs, for example. The inquisitors stopped work twice a day for coffee. Their mugs, which each man had brought from home, were grouped around the kettle on the hearth of the central furnace which incidentally heated the irons and knives.
They had legends on them like A Present From the Holy Grotto of Ossory, or To The World's Greatest Daddy. Most of them were chipped, and no two of them were the same.often go down to watch the inquisitors at work these days. Exquisitors didn't have to. He sent down instructions, he received reports. But special circumstances merited his special attention.It has to be said . . . there was little to laugh at in the cellar of the Quisition. Not if you had a normal sense of humor. There were no jolly little signs saying: You Don't Have To Be Pitilessly Sadistic To Work Here But It Helps!!!But there were things to suggest to a thinking
Friday 10 April 2009
Vincent van Gogh Red vineyards
Vincent van Gogh Red vineyardsVincent van Gogh Lane with PoplarsVincent van Gogh Harvest Landscape
heaps, scrabbling desperately among them, throwing aside charred furniture, pulling aside lumps of fallen roof with less than superhuman strength.
They would have seen him pause once or twice to get his breath back, then dive in again, cutting his hands on shards of doeeyed eaglet?'
'But he may do something stupid!'
'I should think that is very likely,' said Creosote primly.
'While we do something clever and sit on a baking beach with nothing to eat or drink, is that it?'
'You could tell me a story,' said Creosote, trembling slightly.half-molten glass from the dome of the roof. They would have noticed that he seemed to be sobbing.Eventually his questing fingers touched something warm and soft.The frantic wizard heaved a charred roof beam aside, scrabbled through a drift of fallen tiles and peered down.There, half squashed by the beam and baked brown by the fire, was a large bunch of overripe, squashy bananas.He picked one up, very carefully, and sat and watched it for sometime until the end fell off.Then he ate it. 'We shouldn't have let him go like that,' said Conina.'How could we have stopped him, oh, beauteous
heaps, scrabbling desperately among them, throwing aside charred furniture, pulling aside lumps of fallen roof with less than superhuman strength.
They would have seen him pause once or twice to get his breath back, then dive in again, cutting his hands on shards of doeeyed eaglet?'
'But he may do something stupid!'
'I should think that is very likely,' said Creosote primly.
'While we do something clever and sit on a baking beach with nothing to eat or drink, is that it?'
'You could tell me a story,' said Creosote, trembling slightly.half-molten glass from the dome of the roof. They would have noticed that he seemed to be sobbing.Eventually his questing fingers touched something warm and soft.The frantic wizard heaved a charred roof beam aside, scrabbled through a drift of fallen tiles and peered down.There, half squashed by the beam and baked brown by the fire, was a large bunch of overripe, squashy bananas.He picked one up, very carefully, and sat and watched it for sometime until the end fell off.Then he ate it. 'We shouldn't have let him go like that,' said Conina.'How could we have stopped him, oh, beauteous
Wednesday 8 April 2009
Thomas Kinkade Dawson
Thomas Kinkade DawsonThomas Kinkade CourageThomas Kinkade City by the Bay
looked down at him, puzzled.
'Legs given out?'
'It's - it's the hat. The Archchancellor's hat,' said Rincewind, hoarsely. His eyes narrowed. 'You've stolen it!' he shouted, struggling back to his feet and grabbing for the sparkling brim.
'It's just a And so on. Rincewind had been told about the hat on his first day at University, and it had sunk into his impressionable mind like a lead weight into a jelly. He wasn't sure of much in the world, but he was certain that the Archchancellor's hat was important. Maybe even wizards need a little magic in their lives.
Rincewind, said the hat.
Tuesday 7 April 2009
Camille Pissarro Boulevard Montmarte
Camille Pissarro Boulevard MontmarteClaude Lorrain The Rest on the Flight into EgyptPeter Paul Rubens Virgin and Child
Death took a step backwards.
It was impossible to read expression in Azrael’s features.
Death glanced sideways at the servants.
LORD,
And another finger reached out across the darkness towards the Clock. There were faint screams of rage from the servants, and then screams of realisation, and then three brief, blue flames.
All other clocks, even the handless clock of Death, were reflections of the Clock. Exactly reflections of the Clock; they told the universe what the time was, but the Clock told Time what time is. It was the mainspring from which all time poured.
And the design d the Clock was this: that the biggest hand only went around once.
The second hand whirred along a circular path that even light WHAT CAN THE HARVEST HOPE FOR, IF NOT FOR THE CARE OF THE REAPER MAN? He waited.LORD? said Death.In the time it took to answer, several galaxies unfolded, whirled around Azrael like paper streamers, impacted, and were gone.
Death took a step backwards.
It was impossible to read expression in Azrael’s features.
Death glanced sideways at the servants.
LORD,
And another finger reached out across the darkness towards the Clock. There were faint screams of rage from the servants, and then screams of realisation, and then three brief, blue flames.
All other clocks, even the handless clock of Death, were reflections of the Clock. Exactly reflections of the Clock; they told the universe what the time was, but the Clock told Time what time is. It was the mainspring from which all time poured.
And the design d the Clock was this: that the biggest hand only went around once.
The second hand whirred along a circular path that even light WHAT CAN THE HARVEST HOPE FOR, IF NOT FOR THE CARE OF THE REAPER MAN? He waited.LORD? said Death.In the time it took to answer, several galaxies unfolded, whirled around Azrael like paper streamers, impacted, and were gone.
Monday 6 April 2009
Edward Hopper Sunlight in a Cafeteria
Edward Hopper Sunlight in a CafeteriaEdward Hopper Summer InteriorEdward Hopper Sailing
about the breeding of cities. But that doesn’t feel right. A city is alive. Supposing you were a great slow giant, like a Counting Pine, and looked down at a city?
You’d see big slow living things, you get small fast things that eat them . . .
Windle Poons felt the brain cells firing. Connections were made. Thought gushed along new channels. Had he ever really thought properly when he was alive? He doubted it. He’d just been a lot of complicated reactions attached to a lot of nerve endings, with everything from idle rumination about the next meal to random, distracting buildings grow; you’d see attackers driven off; you’d see fires put out. You’d see the city was alive but you wouldn’t see people, because they’d move too fast. The life of a city, the thing that drives it, isn’t some sort of mysterious force. The life of a city is people. He turned the pages absently, not really looking . . . So we have the cities - big, sedentary creatures, growing from one spot and hardly moving at all for thousands of years. They breed by sending out people to colonise new land. They themselves just lie there. They’re alive, but only in the same way that a jelly fish is alive. Or a fairly bright vegetable. After all, we call Ankh-Morpork the Big Wahooni . . . And where you get
about the breeding of cities. But that doesn’t feel right. A city is alive. Supposing you were a great slow giant, like a Counting Pine, and looked down at a city?
You’d see big slow living things, you get small fast things that eat them . . .
Windle Poons felt the brain cells firing. Connections were made. Thought gushed along new channels. Had he ever really thought properly when he was alive? He doubted it. He’d just been a lot of complicated reactions attached to a lot of nerve endings, with everything from idle rumination about the next meal to random, distracting buildings grow; you’d see attackers driven off; you’d see fires put out. You’d see the city was alive but you wouldn’t see people, because they’d move too fast. The life of a city, the thing that drives it, isn’t some sort of mysterious force. The life of a city is people. He turned the pages absently, not really looking . . . So we have the cities - big, sedentary creatures, growing from one spot and hardly moving at all for thousands of years. They breed by sending out people to colonise new land. They themselves just lie there. They’re alive, but only in the same way that a jelly fish is alive. Or a fairly bright vegetable. After all, we call Ankh-Morpork the Big Wahooni . . . And where you get
Friday 3 April 2009
Mary Cassatt Children Playing On The Beach
Mary Cassatt Children Playing On The BeachMary Cassatt Young Mother SewingEdward Hopper People In The Sun
them crept. The Dean advanced in a series of spinning leaps, occasionally flattening himself against the wall, and saying ‘Hut! Hut! Hut!’ under his breath.
He was absolutely crestfallen when the other heaps turned out to be still where Modo had built them. The gardener, whomy bedroom. I opened the wardrobe and there it was.’
‘In your wardrobe? What’d you put it in there for?’ said Ridcully.
‘I didn’t. I told you. It was probably the students. It’s their kind of humour.
One of them put a hairbrush in my bed once.’
‘I fell over one earlier,’ said the Archchancellor, ‘and then when I looked round for it, so had tagged along behind and had twice nearly been flattened by the Dean, fussed around them for a while. ‘They’re just lying low,’ said the Dean. ‘I say we blow up the godsdamn -‘ ‘They’re not even warm yet,’ said Modo.’That one must have been the oldest.’‘You mean we haven’t got anything to fight?’ said the Archchancellor. The ground shook underfoot. And then there was a faint jangling noise, from the direction of the cloisters.Ridcully frowned.‘Someone ‘s pushing those damn wire baskety things around again,’ he said. ‘There was one in my study tonight.’‘Huh,’ said the Senior Wrangler.’There was one in meone had
them crept. The Dean advanced in a series of spinning leaps, occasionally flattening himself against the wall, and saying ‘Hut! Hut! Hut!’ under his breath.
He was absolutely crestfallen when the other heaps turned out to be still where Modo had built them. The gardener, whomy bedroom. I opened the wardrobe and there it was.’
‘In your wardrobe? What’d you put it in there for?’ said Ridcully.
‘I didn’t. I told you. It was probably the students. It’s their kind of humour.
One of them put a hairbrush in my bed once.’
‘I fell over one earlier,’ said the Archchancellor, ‘and then when I looked round for it, so had tagged along behind and had twice nearly been flattened by the Dean, fussed around them for a while. ‘They’re just lying low,’ said the Dean. ‘I say we blow up the godsdamn -‘ ‘They’re not even warm yet,’ said Modo.’That one must have been the oldest.’‘You mean we haven’t got anything to fight?’ said the Archchancellor. The ground shook underfoot. And then there was a faint jangling noise, from the direction of the cloisters.Ridcully frowned.‘Someone ‘s pushing those damn wire baskety things around again,’ he said. ‘There was one in my study tonight.’‘Huh,’ said the Senior Wrangler.’There was one in meone had
Thursday 2 April 2009
Paul Klee The Golden Fish
Paul Klee The Golden FishPaul Klee Insula DulcamaraPaul Klee Fish Magic
contracted genetics as a child. She was pretty certain her mother had once
alluded circumspectly to the fact that Great-uncle Erasmus sometimes had
to eat his meals hairy wolf thing for the rest of the time. Priests often failed to see it that way. Since by the time Mrs Cake fell out with whatever priests * were currently moderating between her and the gods, she had usually already taken over the flower arrangements, altar dusting, temple cleaning, sacrificial stone scrubbing, honorary vestigial virgining, hassock repairing and every other vital religious support role by sheer force of personality, her departure resulted in total chaos. Mrs Cake buttoned up her coat.
‘It won’t work,’ said Ludmilla.under the table. Either way, Ludmilla was a decent upright young woman for three weeks in every four and aperfectly well-behaved
contracted genetics as a child. She was pretty certain her mother had once
alluded circumspectly to the fact that Great-uncle Erasmus sometimes had
to eat his meals hairy wolf thing for the rest of the time. Priests often failed to see it that way. Since by the time Mrs Cake fell out with whatever priests * were currently moderating between her and the gods, she had usually already taken over the flower arrangements, altar dusting, temple cleaning, sacrificial stone scrubbing, honorary vestigial virgining, hassock repairing and every other vital religious support role by sheer force of personality, her departure resulted in total chaos. Mrs Cake buttoned up her coat.
‘It won’t work,’ said Ludmilla.under the table. Either way, Ludmilla was a decent upright young woman for three weeks in every four and aperfectly well-behaved
Wednesday 1 April 2009
Leroy Neiman Resting Tiger
Leroy Neiman Resting TigerLeroy Neiman Resting LionLeroy Neiman Hand Off Superbowl IIIJean-Honore Fragonard the readerJean-Honore Fragonard the lock
touched something small and irregularly shaped. He managed to get his fingers around it.
It felt like a bundle of matches.
In a coffin? Did anyone think he’d smoke a quiet cigar to pass the time? After a certain amount of effort he managed to push one boot off with the other boot and ease it up until he could just grasp it. This gave him a rough Thursdays, 12 pm. 668 Elm Street
EVERY BODY WELCOME
The second match went out, taking the last of surface to strike the match on.Sulphurous light filled his tiny oblong world.There was a tiny scrap of cardboard pinned to the inside of the lid.He read it. He read it again. The match went out.He lit another one, just to check that what he had read really did exist.The message was still as strange, even third time round:Dead? Depressed?Feel like starting it all again?Then why not come along to the FRESH START CLUB
touched something small and irregularly shaped. He managed to get his fingers around it.
It felt like a bundle of matches.
In a coffin? Did anyone think he’d smoke a quiet cigar to pass the time? After a certain amount of effort he managed to push one boot off with the other boot and ease it up until he could just grasp it. This gave him a rough Thursdays, 12 pm. 668 Elm Street
EVERY BODY WELCOME
The second match went out, taking the last of surface to strike the match on.Sulphurous light filled his tiny oblong world.There was a tiny scrap of cardboard pinned to the inside of the lid.He read it. He read it again. The match went out.He lit another one, just to check that what he had read really did exist.The message was still as strange, even third time round:Dead? Depressed?Feel like starting it all again?Then why not come along to the FRESH START CLUB
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