Montague Dawson paintings
Mary Cassatt paintings
Maxfield Parrish paintings
After half an hour I said what I had been pondering ever since we started.
“Billy, this is a crazy Business. I’m willing to call the bet off if you are.”
But he answered gravely.
“I’m sorry, my friend, but I’m not going to lose the opportunity of making a fiver.”
Then there was silence again until Anderson looked back from the wheel and said:
“Look here, Billy, let’s stop at this pub and then go Home. I can lend you a fiver or more if you want it. You needn’t pay me until you want to.”
But Billy was resolute:
“No, Dick, I owe enough already. I should like to earn an honest meal for once.”
So Anderson drove on and soon we came into sight of the grim place which Craine had
Monday 29 September 2008
Saturday 27 September 2008
Flamenco Dancer paintings
Flamenco Dancer paintings
Franz Marc paintings
Fabian Perez paintings
hesitating whether “no pride is unreasonable” was the more impressive; he had long gone beyond the stage when a sweeping generalization could pass as an epigram.
“The aphorisms of a disappointed man,” said Moira. “The next remark like that Ralf and I get out and walk.” Oh, yes,” said Lurnstein, “I had ideals at one time all right—we all do, you know.”
Bulfrey Combe was a mile and a half out from Bulfrey and still kept most of the appearance of a country village. Bulfrey was a small town with two or three streets of cheap shops, a bank, and a small glass factory which formed the nucleus of a large area of slums which was gradually spreading its grimy tentacles along the roads into the
Franz Marc paintings
Fabian Perez paintings
hesitating whether “no pride is unreasonable” was the more impressive; he had long gone beyond the stage when a sweeping generalization could pass as an epigram.
“The aphorisms of a disappointed man,” said Moira. “The next remark like that Ralf and I get out and walk.” Oh, yes,” said Lurnstein, “I had ideals at one time all right—we all do, you know.”
Bulfrey Combe was a mile and a half out from Bulfrey and still kept most of the appearance of a country village. Bulfrey was a small town with two or three streets of cheap shops, a bank, and a small glass factory which formed the nucleus of a large area of slums which was gradually spreading its grimy tentacles along the roads into the
Thursday 25 September 2008
Francisco de Goya The Parasol painting
Francisco de Goya The Parasol paintingEmile Munier A Special Moment paintingFilippino Lippi Adoration of the Child painting
these gentler conquerors were still plain to see but Scott-King saw nothing as, at dawn, he bowled over the cobbles to the waterfront.
The Underground dispersal centre was a warehouse; three wide floors, unpartitioned, with boarded windows, joined by an iron staircase. There was one door near which the guardian had set her large brass bedstead. At most hours of the day she reclined there under a coverlet littered with various kinds of food, weapons, tobacco and a little bolster on which she sometimes made lace of an ecclesiastical pattern. She had the face of a tricoteuse of the Terror. “Welcome to Modern Europe,” she said as the seven Ursulines entered.
The place was crowded. In the six days which he spent there Scott-King identified most of the groups who messed together by languages. There was a detachment of Slovene royalists, a few Algerian nationals, the remnants of a Syrian anarchist association, ten patient Turkish prostitutes, four French Pétainist millionaires, a few Bulgarian terrorists, a half-dozen
these gentler conquerors were still plain to see but Scott-King saw nothing as, at dawn, he bowled over the cobbles to the waterfront.
The Underground dispersal centre was a warehouse; three wide floors, unpartitioned, with boarded windows, joined by an iron staircase. There was one door near which the guardian had set her large brass bedstead. At most hours of the day she reclined there under a coverlet littered with various kinds of food, weapons, tobacco and a little bolster on which she sometimes made lace of an ecclesiastical pattern. She had the face of a tricoteuse of the Terror. “Welcome to Modern Europe,” she said as the seven Ursulines entered.
The place was crowded. In the six days which he spent there Scott-King identified most of the groups who messed together by languages. There was a detachment of Slovene royalists, a few Algerian nationals, the remnants of a Syrian anarchist association, ten patient Turkish prostitutes, four French Pétainist millionaires, a few Bulgarian terrorists, a half-dozen
Marc Chagall The Three Candles painting
Marc Chagall The Three Candles paintingMarc Chagall Paris Through the Window paintingMarc Chagall Lovers in the Moonlight painting
the House. He read “There swimmeth One Who swam e’er rivers were begun, And under that Almighty Fin the littlest fish may enter in” and “Abou Ben Adhem, may his tribe increase” and “Under the wide and starry sky” and “What have I done for you, England, my England.....?” and many others of the same comfortable kind; but always before the end of the evening someone would say “Please, sir, can we have ‘The Bells of Heaven’?” Now he read only to his own house but the poems, Frank’s pleasant voices, his nightingales, were awake still, warm and bright with remembered firelight.
Charles did not question whether the poem was not perfectly suited to the compressed thirteenth-century script in which he had written it. His method of was first to draw the letters faintly, freehand in pencil; then with a ruler and ruling pen to ink in the uprights firmly in Indian ink until the page consisted of lines of short and long black perpendiculars; then with a mapping pen he joined them with hair strokes and completed their lozenge-shaped terminals. It was a method he had evolved for himself by trial and error. The initial letters of each line were left blank and these, during the last week of the , he
the House. He read “There swimmeth One Who swam e’er rivers were begun, And under that Almighty Fin the littlest fish may enter in” and “Abou Ben Adhem, may his tribe increase” and “Under the wide and starry sky” and “What have I done for you, England, my England.....?” and many others of the same comfortable kind; but always before the end of the evening someone would say “Please, sir, can we have ‘The Bells of Heaven’?” Now he read only to his own house but the poems, Frank’s pleasant voices, his nightingales, were awake still, warm and bright with remembered firelight.
Charles did not question whether the poem was not perfectly suited to the compressed thirteenth-century script in which he had written it. His method of was first to draw the letters faintly, freehand in pencil; then with a ruler and ruling pen to ink in the uprights firmly in Indian ink until the page consisted of lines of short and long black perpendiculars; then with a mapping pen he joined them with hair strokes and completed their lozenge-shaped terminals. It was a method he had evolved for himself by trial and error. The initial letters of each line were left blank and these, during the last week of the , he
Wednesday 24 September 2008
Marc Chagall The Concert painting
Marc Chagall The Concert paintingMarc Chagall La Mariee paintingPaul Gauguin The Yellow Christ painting
Lucy’s an angel,” said Julia, “that’s why we hate Roger so.”
Finally there was the evening of Julia’s last party. Eight of us went to dance at a restaurant. Julia was at first very gay, but her spirits dropped towards the end of the evening. I was living in Ebury Street; it was easy for me to walk from Victoria Square, so I went back with them and had a last drink. “Lucy’s promised to leave us alone, just for a minute, to say good-bye,” Julia whispered.
When we were alone, she said, “It’s been absolutely wonderful the last two weeks. I didn’t know it was possible to be so happy. I wish you’d give me something as a kind of souvenir.”
“Of course. I’ll send you one of my books, shall I?”
“No,” she said, “I’m not interested in your books any more. At least, of course, I am, terribly, but I mean it’s you I love.”
“Nonsense,” I said.
“Will you kiss me, once, just to say good-bye.”
“Certainly not.”
Lucy’s an angel,” said Julia, “that’s why we hate Roger so.”
Finally there was the evening of Julia’s last party. Eight of us went to dance at a restaurant. Julia was at first very gay, but her spirits dropped towards the end of the evening. I was living in Ebury Street; it was easy for me to walk from Victoria Square, so I went back with them and had a last drink. “Lucy’s promised to leave us alone, just for a minute, to say good-bye,” Julia whispered.
When we were alone, she said, “It’s been absolutely wonderful the last two weeks. I didn’t know it was possible to be so happy. I wish you’d give me something as a kind of souvenir.”
“Of course. I’ll send you one of my books, shall I?”
“No,” she said, “I’m not interested in your books any more. At least, of course, I am, terribly, but I mean it’s you I love.”
“Nonsense,” I said.
“Will you kiss me, once, just to say good-bye.”
“Certainly not.”
Monday 22 September 2008
Frida Kahlo My Dress Hangs There painting
Frida Kahlo My Dress Hangs There paintingFrida Kahlo Fruits of the Earth paintingFrida Kahlo Diego and I painting
the house for sale. At the end of that time he received a liberal offer from the syndicate, who wished to extend their block over the site, and he immediately withdrew it from the market. “I could tell they were Jews,” he said, “by the smell of their notepaper.”
This was in his anti-Semitic period; it was also the period of his lowest professional fortunes, when his subject pictures remained unsold, the market for dubious old masters was dropping, and public bodies were beginning to look for something “modern” in their memorial portraits; the period, moreover, when I had finished with the University and was still dependent on my father for pocket money. It was a very unsatisfactory time in his . I had not then learned to appreciate the massive defences of what people call the “border line of sanity,” and I was at moments genuinely afraid that my father was going out of his mind; there had always seemed an element of persecution mania about his foibles which might, at a time of great strain, go beyond his control. He used to stand on the opposite pavement watching the new building rise, a conspicuous figure muttering objurgations. I used
the house for sale. At the end of that time he received a liberal offer from the syndicate, who wished to extend their block over the site, and he immediately withdrew it from the market. “I could tell they were Jews,” he said, “by the smell of their notepaper.”
This was in his anti-Semitic period; it was also the period of his lowest professional fortunes, when his subject pictures remained unsold, the market for dubious old masters was dropping, and public bodies were beginning to look for something “modern” in their memorial portraits; the period, moreover, when I had finished with the University and was still dependent on my father for pocket money. It was a very unsatisfactory time in his . I had not then learned to appreciate the massive defences of what people call the “border line of sanity,” and I was at moments genuinely afraid that my father was going out of his mind; there had always seemed an element of persecution mania about his foibles which might, at a time of great strain, go beyond his control. He used to stand on the opposite pavement watching the new building rise, a conspicuous figure muttering objurgations. I used
Sunday 21 September 2008
Sir Lawrence Alma-Tadema Courtship the Proposal painting
Sir Lawrence Alma-Tadema Courtship the Proposal paintingSir Lawrence Alma-Tadema A Favorite Custom paintingGarmash Sleeping Beauty painting
shampoo it was very light and silky; towards the end of the week, darker and slightly greasy. She was a virtuous, affectionate, self-reliant, even-tempered, unintelligent, high-spirited girl, but Tom could not disguise from himself the fact that she would not go down well at Tomb.
She worked for the firm on the clerical side. Tom had noticed her on his second day, as she tripped across the yard, exactly on time, bare-headed (the day after a shampoo) in a woollen coat and skirt which she had knitted herself. He had got into conversation with her in the canteen, by making way for her at the counter with a chivalry that was not much practised at the works. His possession of a car gave him a clear advantage over the other young men about the place.
They discovered that they lived within a few streets of one another, and it presently became Tom’s practice to call for her in the mornings and take her in the evenings. He would sit in the two-seater outside her gate, sound the horn, and she would come
shampoo it was very light and silky; towards the end of the week, darker and slightly greasy. She was a virtuous, affectionate, self-reliant, even-tempered, unintelligent, high-spirited girl, but Tom could not disguise from himself the fact that she would not go down well at Tomb.
She worked for the firm on the clerical side. Tom had noticed her on his second day, as she tripped across the yard, exactly on time, bare-headed (the day after a shampoo) in a woollen coat and skirt which she had knitted herself. He had got into conversation with her in the canteen, by making way for her at the counter with a chivalry that was not much practised at the works. His possession of a car gave him a clear advantage over the other young men about the place.
They discovered that they lived within a few streets of one another, and it presently became Tom’s practice to call for her in the mornings and take her in the evenings. He would sit in the two-seater outside her gate, sound the horn, and she would come
Friday 19 September 2008
Frank Dicksee La Belle Dame Sans Merci painting
Frank Dicksee La Belle Dame Sans Merci paintingSandro Botticelli The Birth of Venus paintingEdward Hopper Nighthawks painting
the children scrambling down the supports of the houses to the refuse below—and for perhaps the first time in his felt uncertain of what he should do. Then with as much resolution as he could muster, he walked towards the village.
The effect was instantaneous. There was a general scramble of women for their children, a general stampede for the ladders. The men at the boats stopped fiddling with tackle and came lumbering up the banks. Rip smiled and walked on. The men got together and showed no inclination to budge. Rip raised his clasped hands and shook them amicably in the air as he had seen boxers do when entering the ring. The shaggy white men made no sign of recognition.
“Good morning,” said Rip. “Is this London?”
The men looked at each other in surprise, and one very old white beard giggled slightly.
the children scrambling down the supports of the houses to the refuse below—and for perhaps the first time in his felt uncertain of what he should do. Then with as much resolution as he could muster, he walked towards the village.
The effect was instantaneous. There was a general scramble of women for their children, a general stampede for the ladders. The men at the boats stopped fiddling with tackle and came lumbering up the banks. Rip smiled and walked on. The men got together and showed no inclination to budge. Rip raised his clasped hands and shook them amicably in the air as he had seen boxers do when entering the ring. The shaggy white men made no sign of recognition.
“Good morning,” said Rip. “Is this London?”
The men looked at each other in surprise, and one very old white beard giggled slightly.
Thursday 18 September 2008
Vincent van Gogh Poppies 1886 painting
Vincent van Gogh Poppies 1886 paintingHenri Matisse Goldfish paintingHenri Matisse Blue Nude I 1952 painting
marked the taboo where no man might cross, the Sakuya women chanted their primeval litany of initiation; here on the hillside the no less terrible ceremony was held over Mrs. Lepperidge’s tea table. First the questions; disguised and delicate over the tea cake but quickening their pace as the tribal rhythm waxed high and the table was cleared of tray and kettle, falling faster and faster like ecstatic hands on the taut cowhide, mounting and swelling with the first cigarette; a series of urgent, peremptory interrogations. To all this Prunella responded with docile simplicity. The whole of her, upbringing and education were exposed, examined and found to be exemplary; her mother’s death, the care of an aunt, a convent school in the suburbs which had left her with charming manners, a readiness to find the right man and to settle down with him whenever the Service should require it; her belief in a limited family and European education, the value of sport, kindness to animals, affectionate patronage of men.
Then, when she had proved herself worthy of it, came the instruction. Intimate details of
marked the taboo where no man might cross, the Sakuya women chanted their primeval litany of initiation; here on the hillside the no less terrible ceremony was held over Mrs. Lepperidge’s tea table. First the questions; disguised and delicate over the tea cake but quickening their pace as the tribal rhythm waxed high and the table was cleared of tray and kettle, falling faster and faster like ecstatic hands on the taut cowhide, mounting and swelling with the first cigarette; a series of urgent, peremptory interrogations. To all this Prunella responded with docile simplicity. The whole of her, upbringing and education were exposed, examined and found to be exemplary; her mother’s death, the care of an aunt, a convent school in the suburbs which had left her with charming manners, a readiness to find the right man and to settle down with him whenever the Service should require it; her belief in a limited family and European education, the value of sport, kindness to animals, affectionate patronage of men.
Then, when she had proved herself worthy of it, came the instruction. Intimate details of
Pierre Auguste Renoir Two Sisters (On the Terrace) painting
Pierre Auguste Renoir Two Sisters (On the Terrace) paintingPierre Auguste Renoir The Umbrellas paintingPierre Auguste Renoir Sleeping Girl painting
Besides, I don’t like the dialogue. It misses all the poetry of the original. What the public wants is Shakespeare, the whole of Shakespeare and nothing but Shakespeare. Now this scenario you’ve written is all very well in its way—but it’s not Shakespeare. I’ll tell you what we’ll do. We’ll use the play exactly as he wrote it and record from that. Make a note of it, Miss Grits.”
“Then you’ll hardly require my services any more?” said Simon.
“No, I don’t think I shall. Still, nice of you to have come.”
Next morning Simon woke bright and cheerful as usual and was about to leap from his bed when he suddenly remembered the events of last night. There was nothing for him to do. An empty day lay before him. No Miss Grits, no Miss Dawkins, no scampering off to conferences or dictating of dialogue. He rang up Miss Grits and asked her to lunch with him.
“No, quite impossible, I’m afraid. I have to do the continuity for a scenario of St. John’s
Besides, I don’t like the dialogue. It misses all the poetry of the original. What the public wants is Shakespeare, the whole of Shakespeare and nothing but Shakespeare. Now this scenario you’ve written is all very well in its way—but it’s not Shakespeare. I’ll tell you what we’ll do. We’ll use the play exactly as he wrote it and record from that. Make a note of it, Miss Grits.”
“Then you’ll hardly require my services any more?” said Simon.
“No, I don’t think I shall. Still, nice of you to have come.”
Next morning Simon woke bright and cheerful as usual and was about to leap from his bed when he suddenly remembered the events of last night. There was nothing for him to do. An empty day lay before him. No Miss Grits, no Miss Dawkins, no scampering off to conferences or dictating of dialogue. He rang up Miss Grits and asked her to lunch with him.
“No, quite impossible, I’m afraid. I have to do the continuity for a scenario of St. John’s
Tuesday 16 September 2008
Jean Francois Millet The Gleaners painting
Jean Francois Millet The Gleaners paintingJacques-Louis David Napoleon crossing the Alps paintingJoaquin Sorolla y Bastida Children on the Beach painting
The Balance: A Yarn of the Good Old Days of Broad Trousers and High Necked Jumpers," Georgian Stories 1926, ed. Alec Waugh, Chapman & Hall, London, 1926.
"A House of Gentlefolks," introduced as "The Tutor's Tale" in The New Decameron: The Fifth Day, ed Hugh Chesterman, Basil Blackwell, Oxford, 1927. London, January 1932.
"Too Much Tolerance," no. 7 in a series of "The Seven Deadly Sins of To-Day," John Bull, 21 May 1932.
"Excursion in Reality," first published as "An Entirely New Angle," Harper's Bazaar, New York, July 1932, and as "This Quota Stuff: Proof That the British Can Make Good Films," Harper's Bazaar, London, August 1932.
"Incident in Azania," Windsor Magazine, December 1933.
"Bella Fleace Gave a Party," Harper's Bazaar, London, December 1932, and Harper's Bazaar, New York, March 1933.
"Cruise," Harper's Bazaar, London, February 1933.
"The Manager of 'The Kremlin,'" for a series of "Real Stories—by Famous Authors," John Bull, 15 February 1930.
"Love in the Slump," first published
The Balance: A Yarn of the Good Old Days of Broad Trousers and High Necked Jumpers," Georgian Stories 1926, ed. Alec Waugh, Chapman & Hall, London, 1926.
"A House of Gentlefolks," introduced as "The Tutor's Tale" in The New Decameron: The Fifth Day, ed Hugh Chesterman, Basil Blackwell, Oxford, 1927. London, January 1932.
"Too Much Tolerance," no. 7 in a series of "The Seven Deadly Sins of To-Day," John Bull, 21 May 1932.
"Excursion in Reality," first published as "An Entirely New Angle," Harper's Bazaar, New York, July 1932, and as "This Quota Stuff: Proof That the British Can Make Good Films," Harper's Bazaar, London, August 1932.
"Incident in Azania," Windsor Magazine, December 1933.
"Bella Fleace Gave a Party," Harper's Bazaar, London, December 1932, and Harper's Bazaar, New York, March 1933.
"Cruise," Harper's Bazaar, London, February 1933.
"The Manager of 'The Kremlin,'" for a series of "Real Stories—by Famous Authors," John Bull, 15 February 1930.
"Love in the Slump," first published
Vincent van Gogh Wheatfield with Crows painting
Vincent van Gogh Wheatfield with Crows paintingVincent van Gogh Roses paintingEdmund Blair Leighton The Accolade painting
are groundless, leaving your legs dangling in the breeze, a testament to man's refusal to not do crazy things that affront God. You are harnessed in however, so diners should be sure to evacuate their bowels before boarding, or else risk giving someone below the worst day of their lives. that kind of playful double entendre that makes Buns and Guns the premiere Hezbollah-themed fast food chain in Lebanon. After a lengthy battle with competing chains Burgers and Lugers, Khomeini's House of Schwarma and Fuck Israel!, Buns and Guns became known nationwide as the of the AK-47 Kalashnikov" which you may be perplexed to learn is a beef sandwich.
At 130 feet in the air, depending on your location, you can expect wind, fog, rain, and low flying birds to add a sense of atmos-fear to your meal. And if by chance a romantic thunderstorm should swell, rest assured that you are fastened to a 130 foot-tall metal rod.
are groundless, leaving your legs dangling in the breeze, a testament to man's refusal to not do crazy things that affront God. You are harnessed in however, so diners should be sure to evacuate their bowels before boarding, or else risk giving someone below the worst day of their lives. that kind of playful double entendre that makes Buns and Guns the premiere Hezbollah-themed fast food chain in Lebanon. After a lengthy battle with competing chains Burgers and Lugers, Khomeini's House of Schwarma and Fuck Israel!, Buns and Guns became known nationwide as the of the AK-47 Kalashnikov" which you may be perplexed to learn is a beef sandwich.
At 130 feet in the air, depending on your location, you can expect wind, fog, rain, and low flying birds to add a sense of atmos-fear to your meal. And if by chance a romantic thunderstorm should swell, rest assured that you are fastened to a 130 foot-tall metal rod.
Sunday 14 September 2008
Steve Hanks Steve Hanks Country Comfort painting
Steve Hanks Steve Hanks Country Comfort paintingClaude Monet Claude Monet The Luncheon paintingClaude Monet Terrace at St Adresse painting
"I'm asserting myself," she said quietly. "I think that the Ladyship part of Your Assignment means You're supposed to know me so well that we'll be the same person."
These words so fit my recent Answer, I could not protest when she disrobed. But coitus was not necessarily what she had in mind, ready as she was (and saw the nether George to be) for that ultimate merger of two into one. She removed not only her uniform and underclothing but the pins from her hair, the -ring from her finger, and the cosmetic from her face, then turned from the wash-basin to face me. Her legs were slightly apart, her hands on her hips, her cheeks flaming. Inspired no doubt by Dr. Sear's new relation to Peter Greene, she ordered me to make her person as familiar to me as my own. I asked her what she meant.
"Examineme," she said. Her voice wavered, but not for an instant her extraordinary resolution. She was a changed woman.
"I'm asserting myself," she said quietly. "I think that the Ladyship part of Your Assignment means You're supposed to know me so well that we'll be the same person."
These words so fit my recent Answer, I could not protest when she disrobed. But coitus was not necessarily what she had in mind, ready as she was (and saw the nether George to be) for that ultimate merger of two into one. She removed not only her uniform and underclothing but the pins from her hair, the -ring from her finger, and the cosmetic from her face, then turned from the wash-basin to face me. Her legs were slightly apart, her hands on her hips, her cheeks flaming. Inspired no doubt by Dr. Sear's new relation to Peter Greene, she ordered me to make her person as familiar to me as my own. I asked her what she meant.
"Examineme," she said. Her voice wavered, but not for an instant her extraordinary resolution. She was a changed woman.
Thursday 11 September 2008
After the Bath
After the BathWhat the Water Gave MeThe Suicide of Dorothy Hale
Awed by the bloody pair, the troopers listened silently, their engines stilled.
"Lacey no," Leonid countered. "Mrs. Anastasia yes. Self-sacrificehood to needs of classmates." Like Greene's, his voice remained subdued, and both faced straight ahead as they spoke.
"Might be I was wrong about that Lacey Greene admitted. "But Lacey or Stacey, it weren't no sacrificeness. It was plumb floozihood."Slumped in the sidecar and blindfolded, they started up at mention of my name. Pocket-torches focused on them, and I was doubly surprised: Peter Greene it was, and Leonid Alexandrov, handcuffed together; their coats and faces were as bloodstained as the linen that bound their eyes -- not blindfolds after all, but bandages.
"Aren't they a pair?" Stoker demanded of his troopers, but with a smolder in his tone meant for me. "And look at Hans's
"Possible," Leonid granted. "But I don't think, how do you say, all-said-and-donewise."
"I do," Greene said. "Might be mistaken, though."
"Also."
Awed by the bloody pair, the troopers listened silently, their engines stilled.
"Lacey no," Leonid countered. "Mrs. Anastasia yes. Self-sacrificehood to needs of classmates." Like Greene's, his voice remained subdued, and both faced straight ahead as they spoke.
"Might be I was wrong about that Lacey Greene admitted. "But Lacey or Stacey, it weren't no sacrificeness. It was plumb floozihood."Slumped in the sidecar and blindfolded, they started up at mention of my name. Pocket-torches focused on them, and I was doubly surprised: Peter Greene it was, and Leonid Alexandrov, handcuffed together; their coats and faces were as bloodstained as the linen that bound their eyes -- not blindfolds after all, but bandages.
"Aren't they a pair?" Stoker demanded of his troopers, but with a smolder in his tone meant for me. "And look at Hans's
"Possible," Leonid granted. "But I don't think, how do you say, all-said-and-donewise."
"I do," Greene said. "Might be mistaken, though."
"Also."
Wednesday 10 September 2008
Ford Madox Brown paintings
Ford Madox Brown paintings
Federico Andreotti paintings
Fra Angelico paintings
Bray's Certifications, she felt hers to be the falsest, for though she most certainly had sympathized with her classmates and done her utmost to gratify their needs, loved them she had never, she knew now. And the proof of it was that while she'd never said "no" (except since my spring-term directive), she'd never said "yes," either. With her sex, perhaps, but not with her heart of hearts.
"That's very interesting," I said. "I think I'm getting to know you better already." What she said fit nicely too with my recent advice to her, I pointed out: sayingyes to her classmates was, in effect, what I meant by actively servicing rather than passively receiving them.
"You don'tunderstand!" she wailed. "How can I say it? I'm not supposed tohave to say it!"
I frowned. "Say what, Anastasia? If I don't understand, teach me."
Federico Andreotti paintings
Fra Angelico paintings
Bray's Certifications, she felt hers to be the falsest, for though she most certainly had sympathized with her classmates and done her utmost to gratify their needs, loved them she had never, she knew now. And the proof of it was that while she'd never said "no" (except since my spring-term directive), she'd never said "yes," either. With her sex, perhaps, but not with her heart of hearts.
"That's very interesting," I said. "I think I'm getting to know you better already." What she said fit nicely too with my recent advice to her, I pointed out: sayingyes to her classmates was, in effect, what I meant by actively servicing rather than passively receiving them.
"You don'tunderstand!" she wailed. "How can I say it? I'm not supposed tohave to say it!"
I frowned. "Say what, Anastasia? If I don't understand, teach me."
Monday 8 September 2008
Montague Dawson paintings
Montague Dawson paintings
Mary Cassatt paintings
Maxfield Parrish paintings
started saying he'd defend my honor to the death, and pawing me at the same time, I thought Kennard wouldhelp me! Because it wasn't the first time, You know, that a patient ever gotfresh, and I really think Mr. Greene thought he wasprotecting me, or something. . . But do You think Kennard helped? He was listening to Mr. Greene as if it were the Grand Tutor talking, and when Mr. Greene tried to lay me down on the desktop, all Kennard said was 'Remember what George told you, Stacey'!"
In the Treatment Room, as she spoke, Greene had been inveighing against the decline of moral standards in "the present modern campus of today" and recommending that the dunce-cap and birch-rod be restored to their place of honor in New Tammany kindergartens; Sear interrupted him to ask whether, when he played Doctor with Mrs. Sear in the Asylum sandbox, he ought to pretend to be the doctor and Hedwig the patient, or vice-versa: to his mind, taking make-believe rectal temperatures with a forest
Mary Cassatt paintings
Maxfield Parrish paintings
started saying he'd defend my honor to the death, and pawing me at the same time, I thought Kennard wouldhelp me! Because it wasn't the first time, You know, that a patient ever gotfresh, and I really think Mr. Greene thought he wasprotecting me, or something. . . But do You think Kennard helped? He was listening to Mr. Greene as if it were the Grand Tutor talking, and when Mr. Greene tried to lay me down on the desktop, all Kennard said was 'Remember what George told you, Stacey'!"
In the Treatment Room, as she spoke, Greene had been inveighing against the decline of moral standards in "the present modern campus of today" and recommending that the dunce-cap and birch-rod be restored to their place of honor in New Tammany kindergartens; Sear interrupted him to ask whether, when he played Doctor with Mrs. Sear in the Asylum sandbox, he ought to pretend to be the doctor and Hedwig the patient, or vice-versa: to his mind, taking make-believe rectal temperatures with a forest
Friday 5 September 2008
Benjamin Williams Leader paintings
Benjamin Williams Leader paintings
Bartolome Esteban Murillo paintings
Berthe Morisot paintings
With sudden pertinence, as he still addressed some distant scene the black man said, "Ain't no bones broke. Little goat's-milk, this here child stand straight as the Clock-tower." Then he was off again:
"'One mo' river,' say the Founder-Man Boss:
'Y'all gone Graduate soon's y'all cross.' "
"Why does he talk like that?" I cried.
For just a second George seemed as it were to come truly to himself. Half-laughing, yet something indignantly, he complained to my keeper: "How come you never learnt him to stand up straight?"
Now Max seemed as distraught as I. "Ach,George, forgive! And Billy -- forgive, forgive!"
I was astonished to see misery where I'd looked for wrath. Max embraced the elderly black man, even went to his knees before him. "Love this man, Billy," he commanded me. "This is what it is to be EATen alive -- and he suffered it for your sake, to save once!"
Bartolome Esteban Murillo paintings
Berthe Morisot paintings
With sudden pertinence, as he still addressed some distant scene the black man said, "Ain't no bones broke. Little goat's-milk, this here child stand straight as the Clock-tower." Then he was off again:
"'One mo' river,' say the Founder-Man Boss:
'Y'all gone Graduate soon's y'all cross.' "
"Why does he talk like that?" I cried.
For just a second George seemed as it were to come truly to himself. Half-laughing, yet something indignantly, he complained to my keeper: "How come you never learnt him to stand up straight?"
Now Max seemed as distraught as I. "Ach,George, forgive! And Billy -- forgive, forgive!"
I was astonished to see misery where I'd looked for wrath. Max embraced the elderly black man, even went to his knees before him. "Love this man, Billy," he commanded me. "This is what it is to be EATen alive -- and he suffered it for your sake, to save once!"
Impression Sunrise
Impression SunriseArgenteuilValencia
way for my late insight into the secret of the University. But he must not worry, I added, whether my program or his own might lead to "failure": as the author ofTaliped Decanus understood, thereis only failure on this campus -- but as Enos Enoch and the original Sakhyan knew further, Failure is Passage.
In any case, I wasn't thinking of defection. I didn't suppose Icould defect, actually, since I was only a kind of visitor in New Tammany in the first place. What I was thinking of I demonstrated some time later, when Stoker came down with my stick, my purse, Peter Greene, and pieces of news.
"It won't do you any good," he said, "but I'm supposed to give you your things and turn you loose if you clear your ID-card. Which of course you can't."
I took my possessions joyfully. The other condition, then, had been met?
"It's been arranged," Stoker said dryly. "My wife will meet Bray in the Belfry at eleven o'clock tonight."
way for my late insight into the secret of the University. But he must not worry, I added, whether my program or his own might lead to "failure": as the author ofTaliped Decanus understood, thereis only failure on this campus -- but as Enos Enoch and the original Sakhyan knew further, Failure is Passage.
In any case, I wasn't thinking of defection. I didn't suppose Icould defect, actually, since I was only a kind of visitor in New Tammany in the first place. What I was thinking of I demonstrated some time later, when Stoker came down with my stick, my purse, Peter Greene, and pieces of news.
"It won't do you any good," he said, "but I'm supposed to give you your things and turn you loose if you clear your ID-card. Which of course you can't."
I took my possessions joyfully. The other condition, then, had been met?
"It's been arranged," Stoker said dryly. "My wife will meet Bray in the Belfry at eleven o'clock tonight."
Tuesday 2 September 2008
Gustav Klimt The Three Ages of Woman painting
Gustav Klimt The Three Ages of Woman paintingGustav Klimt The Kiss (Le Baiser _ Il Baccio) paintingGustav Klimt Sea Serpents painting
No one's going to be lynched," he declared. Quickly then, but calmly, he issued orders for dealing with the crisis: word was to be spread that the crowd should reassemble at the impregnable Belly-exit at the rear of Tower Hall basement, whence very shortly the EATen impostor must issue with the true Grand Tutor. Thus they would see justice accomplished, and be safely outside the building. To reach the Belly-lift itself would require my cooperation in another stratagem, which he sincerely hoped I would find less repugnant than being dismembered:
"Mrs. Stoker, in her mischievous way, loaned you a mask of my face this morning to get through Scrapegoat Grate with. Put it on, if you still have it, and we'll go through the lobby together. If you've lost it, I'll give you another -- unless you'd rather take your chances. . ."
A bitter pill, made no more palatable by theOho's of my enemies, who welcomed the insinuation that I'd got through the Grate by fraud! But consoling myself with the thought -- and declaration -- that WESCAC soon would end all masquerade, I did as bid: fished the odious silky vizard from my purse and donned it. As before, it fit
No one's going to be lynched," he declared. Quickly then, but calmly, he issued orders for dealing with the crisis: word was to be spread that the crowd should reassemble at the impregnable Belly-exit at the rear of Tower Hall basement, whence very shortly the EATen impostor must issue with the true Grand Tutor. Thus they would see justice accomplished, and be safely outside the building. To reach the Belly-lift itself would require my cooperation in another stratagem, which he sincerely hoped I would find less repugnant than being dismembered:
"Mrs. Stoker, in her mischievous way, loaned you a mask of my face this morning to get through Scrapegoat Grate with. Put it on, if you still have it, and we'll go through the lobby together. If you've lost it, I'll give you another -- unless you'd rather take your chances. . ."
A bitter pill, made no more palatable by theOho's of my enemies, who welcomed the insinuation that I'd got through the Grate by fraud! But consoling myself with the thought -- and declaration -- that WESCAC soon would end all masquerade, I did as bid: fished the odious silky vizard from my purse and donned it. As before, it fit
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