John William Waterhouse Psyche Entering Cupid's Garden

John William Waterhouse Psyche Entering Cupid's GardenJohn William Waterhouse Nymphs Finding the Head of OrpheusJohn William Waterhouse JulietJohn William Waterhouse Flora and the ZephyrsJohn William Waterhouse Apollo and Daphne
struggled over unyielding knees until he reached the aisle, and ran up it through the tendrils of fog. He hammered on the door of the picture‑throwing room. When that got no answer he kicked it down.
Bezam rubbish on Bezam’s bench for some scissors or a knife, and found neither. The machine whirred on, winding reality from the future to the past.
In the background, he could hear Gaspode saying, ‘I expect I’ve saved the day, right?’
The brain normally echoes with the shouts of various inconsequential thoughts seeking attention. It takes a real emergency to get them to shut up. It was happening now. One clear thought was staring intently at the screen through a small square hole cut in the wall. The picture‑thrower was click­ing away happily by itself. No‑one was turning the handle. At least, Victor corrected himself, no‑one he could see.There was a distant rumble, and the ground shook.He stared at the screen. He recognized this bit. It was just before the Burning of Ankh‑Morpork scene.His mind raced. What was it they said about the gods? They wouldn’t exist if there weren’t people to believe in them? And that applied to everything. Reality was what went on inside people’s heads. And in front of him were hundreds of people really believing what they were seeing . . .Victor scrabbled among the

Andy Warhol Diamond Dust Shoes Lilac Blue Green

Andy Warhol Diamond Dust Shoes Lilac Blue GreenAndy Warhol Daisy Double PinkAndy Warhol ButtonsAndy Warhol Basket of FlowersNicolas De Stael Sky in Honfleur
gives me the willies,’ said Gaspode.
Victor stared. Maybe he’d always successfully avoided being awarded the pointy hat and big staff, but he had acquired wizard instincts. He had a sudden vision of a city under the sea, with octopuses curling stealthily through the magic. At least, not the kind he was used to. But something that seemed similar while not being the same, like sugar compared with salt; the same shape and the same colour, but . . .
Ambition wasn’t magical. Powerful, yes, but not magical . . . surely?
Magic wasn’t difficult. That was the big secret that the whole baroque edifice of wizardry had been set up to conceal. Anyone with a bit of intelligence and enough perseverance could do magic, which was why the wizards cloaked it with rituals and the whole pointyhat business. drowned doorways and lobsters watching the streets. ‘Fate don’t like it when people take up more space than they ought to. Everyone knows that.’ I’m going to be the most famous person in the whole world, thought Victor. That’s what she sail. He shook his head. ‘No,’ he said aloud. ‘She just likes posters. It’s just ordinary vanity.’ It didn’t sound believable, even to him. The room fairly hummed with . . . . . . what? He hadn’t felt anything like it before. Power of some sort, certainly. Something that was brushing tantalizingly against his senses. Not exactly

Claude Monet Custom Officer's Cabin at Varengville

Claude Monet Custom Officer's Cabin at VarengvilleClaude Monet ChrysanthemumsClaude Monet Camille Monet in the GardenClaude Monet Blue Water LiliesClaude Monet Banks of the Seine
, there you are,’ said Dibbler. He put his arms around their shoulders as they stood up, and gave them a sort of hug. ‘You young people, always going off alone together,’ he said archly. ‘Great business. Great business. Very romantic. the slow brown river. Crocodiles dozed on the mudflats.
Nature was holding its breath.
A cooing broke out in the pigeon loft of Azhural N’choate, stock dealer. He stopped dozing on the veranda, and went over to see what had caused the excitement.
In the vast pens behind the shack a few threadbare bewilderbeests, marked down for a quick sale, yawning and cudding in the heat, looked up in alarm as N’choate leapt the veranda steps in one bound and tore towards them. let’s do it.’ ‘See what I mean?’ muttered Gaspode, very quietly. When you knew what you were looking for, you couldn’t miss it. In the centre of both of Dibbler’s eyes was a tiny golden star. In the heartlands of the great dark continent of Klatch the air was heavy and pregnant with the promise of the coming monsoon.

Guido Reni Cleopatra

Guido Reni CleopatraGuido Reni Reni CharityFrancois Boucher The Setting of the SunFrancois Boucher The Rest on the Flight into EgyptFrancois Boucher The Rape of Europa
But he said that if ever I was in– ‘
‘Did I just say scram, friend?’
‘Yes, but–’
The door in the fence opened a fraction. A small pale face poked out.
‘We queue. And stay there!’
Victor stared at him. He stared at the gate. He looked at the long line of dispirited people.
‘Um, no,’ he said. ‘I don’t think so. Thanks all the same.’
‘Then beat it!’
Victor gave him a friendly smile. He walked to the end of the fence, and followed it. It turned, at the far end, into a narrow alley. need a troll and a coupla humans,’ it said. ‘One day, usual rates.’ The gate shut again. The man straightened up and cupped his scarred hands around his mouth. ‘Right, you horrible lot!’ he shouted. ‘You heard the man!’ He ran his eyes over the line with the practised gaze of a stock breeder. ‘You, you and you,’ he said, pointing. ‘Excuse me,’ said Victor helpfully, ‘but I think that man over there was actually first in the–’ He was shoved out of the way. The lucky three shuffled in. He thought he saw the glint of coins changing hands. Then the gatekeeper turned an angry red face towards him. ‘You,’ he said, ‘get to the end of the

Leroy Neiman Rocky vs Apollo

Leroy Neiman Rocky vs ApolloAndy Warhol SupermanAndy Warhol SunsetAndy Warhol Shadows IAndy Warhol Oxidation
barely holding himself together, made a noise like deathwatch beetle finally conquering a rotten tree.
'What'd he say?' said Teppicymon.
The said Teppicymon, his voice slightly muffled. 'And you can keep them away from me, lad.'
It was a small pyramid, mazeless, without traps, just a stone passage leading upwards. Tremulously, expecting at any moment to see unnamed terrors leap out at them, the embalmers followed the king into a small, square chamber that smelled of sand. The roof was black with soot.
There was no sarcophagus within, no mummy case, no terror named or nameless. The centre mummy of Ashk-ur-men-tep translated. 'He saide yt ys Spooky,' he croaked. The late king nodded. 'I'm going in to have a look. You two live ones, you come with me.' Dil's face fell. 'Oh, come on, man,' snapped Teppicymon, forcing the door back. 'Look, I'm not frightened. Show a bit of backbone. Everyone else is.' 'But we'll need some light,' protested Dil. The nearest mummies lurched back sharply as Gern timidly took a tinderbox out of his pocket. 'We'll need something to burn,' said Dil. The mummies shuffled further back, muttering. 'There's torches in here,'

Andy Warhol Oxidation

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said Chidder.
The doctor was a credit to his profession. 'It's not unusual for a corpse to make distressing noises after death,' he said valiantly, 'which can upset relatives and-'
Teppic sat bolt upright.
'Also, Teppic swung his legs off the bed and clutched at his head.
'I've got to go home,' he repeated.
'Why?' said Arthur.
'Don't know. The kingdom wants me.'muscular spasms in the stiffening body can in certain circumstances-' the doctor began, but his heart wasn't in it any more. Then an idea occurred to him. 'It's a rare and mysterious ailment,' he said, 'which is going around a lot at the moment. It's caused by a - a - by some- thing so small it can't be detected in any way whatsoever,' he finished, with a self-congratulatory smile on his face. It was a good one, he had to admit. He'd have to remember it. 'Thank you very much,' said Chidder, opening the door and ushering him through. 'Next time we're feeling really well, we'll definitely call you in.' 'It's probably a walrus,' said the doctor, as he was gently but firmly propelled out of the room. 'He's caught a walrus, there's a lot of it going-' The door slammed shut.

Salvador Dali My Wife,Nude

Salvador Dali My Wife,NudeSalvador Dali Meditation on the HarpSalvador Dali Galatea of the SpheresSalvador Dali GalarinaSalvador Dali Figure at a Window I
did tell the truth, didn't you?' she said. 'They really are brothers, aren't they?'
'Oh yes,' said Gytha Ogg. 'Definitely. I saw to his mother when your – when the new king was born. And to the queen when young Tomjon was born, and she told me who his father was.'
'Gytha!'
'Sorry.'
The wine was going to her head, but the wheels in Magrat's mind still managed to turn.
'Just a Nanny. 'Always out and about with it, he was. Hardly ever home o'nights.'
'Just a minute,' Magrat repeated.
They looked at her.
'Yes?' said Granny.
'You told everyone they were brothers and that Verence was the older!'
'That's right.'minute,' she said.'I remember the Fool's father,' said Nanny Ogg, speaking slowly and deliberately. 'Very personable young man, he was. He didn't get on with his dad, you know, but he used to visit sometimes. To see old friends.''He made friends easily,' said Granny.'Among the ladies,' agreed Nanny. 'Very athletic, wasn't he? Could climb walls like nobody's business, I remember hearing.''He was very popular at court,' said Granny. 'I know that much.''Oh, yes. With the queen, at any rate.''The king used to go out hunting such a lot,' said Granny.'It was that droit of his,' said

Andrea Mantegna The Adoration of the Shepherds

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'My client feels,' he said, 'that the situation could be resolved if you give the money back.'
'Ye-es,' said Boggis, approaching the idea as if it was a brand new theory of cosmic creation. 'But it's the receipt. see, we have to fill it up, time and place, signed and everything . . .'
'My client feels word. We've got a special on GBH this season. Practically painless, you'll barely feel a thing.'
'Hardly breaks the skin,' said the older nephew. 'Plus you get choice of limb.'
'I believe I am well served in that area,' said Tomjon smoothly.
'Oh. Well. Right you are then. No problem.'
'Which merely leaves,' continued Tomjon, as the thieves started to walk away, 'the question of legal fees.'
that possibly you could rob him of, let us say, five copper pieces,' said Tomjon, smoothly.'—I bloody don't!—' shouted the Fool, who was coming round.That represents two copper pieces as the going rate, plus expenses of three copper pieces for time, call-out fees—''Wear and tear on cosh,' said Boggis.'Exactly.''Very fair. Very fair.' Boggis looked over Tomjon's head at the Fool, who was now completely conscious and very angry. 'Very fair,' he said loudly. 'Statesmanlike. Much obliged, I'm sure.' He looked down at Tomjon. 'And anything for yourself, sir?' he added. 'Just say the

Jean Fragonard The Stolen Kiss

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'And I beg you, Granny Weatherwax, to restore my son to the throne.'
'Restore?'
'You know what I mean. He is in good health?'
Granny nodded. 'The last time we Looked at him, he was eating an apple,' she said.
'It is his destiny to be King of Lancre!'
'Yes, well. Destiny is tricky, you know,' said Granny.
'You will not help?'
Granny looked wretched. 'It's meddling, you see,' she said. 'It always goes wrong if you meddle in politics. Like, once you start, you can't stop. Fundamental rule of magic, is that. You can't go around messing with fundamental rules.'
'You're not going to help?'
'Well . . . naturally, one day, when your lad is a bit older . . .'
'Where is he Granny. She turned back to the ghost of the king. 'Sorry about that, your majesty. It'snow?' said the king, coldly.The witches avoided one another's faces.'We saw him safe out of the country, you see,' said Granny awkwardly.'Very good family,' Nanny Ogg put in quickly.'What kind of people?' said the king. 'Not commoners, I trust?''Absolutely not,' said Granny with considerable firmness as a vision of Vitoller floated across her imagination. 'Not common at all. Very uncommon. Er.'Her eyes implored Magrat for help.They were Thespians,' said Magrat firmly, her voice radiating such approval that the king found himself nodding automatically.'Oh,' he said. 'Good.''Were they?' whispered Nanny Ogg. 'They didn't look it.''Don't show your ignorance, Gytha Ogg,' sniffed just her showing off. She don't even know where Thespia is.'

Rene Magritte The Empire of Light

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lying out on the lawn,' said Granny. 'She felt a bit poorly.' And from outside came the sound of Nanny Ogg being poorly at the top of her voice.
Magrat sighed.
'You know,' she said, 'if we are his godmothers, we ought to have given him three gifts. It's traditional.'
'What are you talking about, girl?'
'Three good witches are supposed to give the baby three gifts. You know, like good looks, wisdom and happiness.' Magrat he'll be handsome enough,' Magrat said, suddenly serious. 'Wisdom, do you think?'
'That's something he'll have to learn for himself,' said Granny.
'Perfect eyesight? A good singing voice?' From the lawn outside came Nanny Ogg's cracked pressed on defiantly. 'That's how it used to be done in the old days.''Oh, you mean gingerbread cottages and all that,' said Granny dismissively. 'Spinning wheels and pumpkins and pricking your finger on rose thorns and similar. I could never be having with all that.'She polished the ball reflectively.'Yes, but—' Magrat said. Granny glanced up at her. That was Magrat for you. Head full of pumpkins. Everyone's fairy godmother, for two pins. But a good soul, underneath it all. Kind to small furry animals. The sort of person who worried about baby birds falling out of nests.'Look, if it makes you any happier,' she muttered, surprised at herself. She waved her hands vaguely over the image of the departing carts. 'What's it to be – wealth, beauty?''Well, money isn't everything, and if he takes after his father

Abraham Mignon Still Life

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shook himself. Concentrate on the hairbrush, man, the hairbrush. 'Just a bit of magical experimenting, ma'am. Only superficial burns.'
'Is it still invocation to the gods and then subedited heavily; there was going to be a row when the gods found out. The ceremony of the anointing with sacred oils had been cut to a quick dab behind the ears. Skateboards were an unknown invention on the Disc; if they hadn't been, Keli's trip up the aisle would have been unconstitutionally fast. And it still wasn't enough. He nerved himself.
'I think possibly not,' he said. 'It could be a very close thing.'moving?''I am afraid so.'Keli turned back to the mirror. Her face was set.'Have we got time?'This was the bit he'd been dreading. He'd done everything he could. The Royal Astrologer had been sobered up long enough to insist that tomorrow was the only possible day the ceremony could take place, so Cutwell had arranged for it to begin one second after midnight. He'd ruthlessly cut the score of the royal trumpet fanfare. He'd timed the High Priest's

Claude Monet Houses of Parliament London

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might at least put them back where you find 'em,' he said, 'not leave piles of 'em around for old Albert to put back. have found it eerie. Now it was – reassuring. It demonstrated that the universe was running smoothly. His \ had been looking for the opening, gleefully reminded him that, all right, it might be running smoothly but it certainly wasn't heading in the right direction.
He made his way through the maze of shelves to the mysterious pile of books, and found it was gone. Albert had been in the kitchen, and Mort had never seen Death himself enter Anyway, it's not right, ogling the poor dead things. It probably turns you blind.''But I only —' Mort began, and remembered the damp lace handkerchief in his pocket, and shut up.He left Albert grumbling to himself and doing the washing up, and slipped into the library. Pale sunlight lanced down from the high windows, gently fading the covers on the patient, ancient volumes. Occasionally a speck of dust would catch the light as it floated through the golden shafts, and flare like a miniature supernova.Mort knew that if he listened hard enough he could hear the insect-like scritching of the books as they wrote themselves.Once upon a time Mort would

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'Well, if the other man is such a —'
LISTEN, said Death, FAIR DOESN'T COME INTO IT.
YOU CANT IT'S TIME, IT'S TIME. THAT'S ALL THERE IS TO IT, BOY.
'Mort,' moaned Mort, staring at the crowd.
And then he saw his sword in his hand. Mort blinked, and started to follow. The girl's eyes met his for a second and immediately looked away – then swivelled back, dragging her head around, her mouth starting to open in an 'o' of horror.
Mort's backbone melted. He started to run towards the king.
'Look out!' he screamed. 'You're in great danger!'
And the world turned into treacle. It began to fill up with blue and purple shadowsher. A random movement in the people opened up a channel between Mort and a slim, red-haired girl seated among a group of older women behind the king. She wasn't exactly beautiful, being over-endowed in the freckle department and, frankly, rather on the skinny side. But the sight of her caused a shock that hot-wired Mort's hindbrain and drove it all the way to the pit of his stomach, laughing nastily.IT'S TIME, said Death, giving Mort a nudge with a sharp elbow. FOLLOW ME.Death walked toward the king, weighing

Johannes Vermeer The Kitchen Maid

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enough to try to live on a ball. It might have been a sort of model, except something about its glow told Esk that it was quite real and probably very big and not - in every sense - totally inside the sphere.
She put disc and peered carefully over his shoulder.
He was holding a small glass pyramid. There were stars in it, and occasionally he would give it a little shake so that the stars swirled up like snow in the wind, and then settled back in their places. Then he would giggle.
And beyond the stars ....
It was the Discworld. A Great A'Tuin no bigger than a small saucer toiled along under a world that looked like the work of an obsessive jeweller.it down very gently and sidled over to a ten-sided block in which floated a much more acceptable world. It was properly discshaped, but instead of the Rimfall there was a wall of ice and instead of the Hub there was a gigantic tree, so big that its roots merged into mountain ranges. A prism beside it held another slowly-turning disc, surrounded by little stars. But there were no ice walls around this one, just a red-gold thread that turned out on closer inspection to be a snake - a snake big enough to encircle a world. For reasons best known to itself it was biting its own tail. Esk turned the prism over and over curiously, noticing how the little disc inside stayed resolutely upright. Simon giggled softly. Esk replaced the snake-

Edgar Degas The Rehearsal

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a very strange fabric.
Esk was completely ignorant of all this, of course, but was quite satisfied when the staff dropped out of thin air into her hand.
It felt warm.
She looked at it for some time. She felt that she ought to do something about it; it was too big, too distinctive, too inconvenient. It attracted attention. "If I'm taking you to Ankh-Morpork," she said thoughtfully, "You've got to go in disguise." A few late flickers of magic played around the staff, and then it went dark. Eventually Esk solved the immediate problem by finding a stall in the main Zemphis marketplace that sold broomsticks, buying the largest, carrying it back to her doorway, removing the handle and ramming the staff deep into the birch twigs. It didn't seem right to treat a noble object in this way, and she silently apologised to it. It made a difference, anyway. No one looked twice at a small girl carrying a broom.
She bought a spice pasty to eat while exploring (the stallholder carelessly shortchanged her, and only realised later that he had inexplicably handed over two silver pieces; also, rats mysteriously got in and ate all his stock during the night, and his grandmother was struck by lightning).

Amedeo Modigliani the Reclining Nude

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don't think people can turn themselves into animals," said Esk, slowly.
"Oh yes, Miss Clever?"
"Granny is quite big. If she turned herself into a fox what would happen to all the bits that wouldn't fit?"
"She'd just magic them away," said Cern.
"I don't think magic works like that," said Esk. "You can't just make things happen, there's a sort of - like a seesaw thingout of nothing? I mean it just happened, he just said these words and waved his hands, and it just happened. There weren't any seesaws."
"There was a swing," said Cern. "And a thing where you had to throw things at things to win things."
"And you didn't hit anything, Gul."
"Nor did you, you said the things were stuck to the things so you couldn't knock them off, you said . . . ."
Their conversation wandered away like a couple of puppies. Esk listened , if you push one end down, the other end goes up . . . ." Her voice trailed off. They gave her a look. "I can't see Granny on a seesaw," said Gulta. Cern giggled. "No, I mean every time something happens, something else has to happen too - I think," said Esk uncertainly, picking her way around a deeper than usual snowdrift. "Only in the . . . opposite direction." "That's silly," said Gulta, "because, look, you remember when that fair came last summer and there was a wizard with it and he made all those birds and things appear

Alexandre Cabanel Cleopatra Testing Poisons on Condemned Prisoners

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then Herrena was forced to back away as a cunning upward sweep from Cohen nearly disarmed her.
Rincewind staggered towards Twoflower and tugged at him ineffectually.
'Time to be going,' he muttered.
'This is great!' said Twoflower. 'Did you see the way he —'
'Yes, yes, come on.'
'But I want – I say, well done!'
Herrena's sword spun out of her hand and stood quivering in the dirt. With a snort of satisfaction Cohen brought his own sword back, went momentarily crosseyed, gave a little yelp of pain, and stood absolutely and the dull thud of a heavy piece of wood hitting a head. Herrena looked bewildered for a moment, and then fell forward.
Bethan dropped the branch she had been holding and looked at Cohen. Then she grabbed him by the shoulders, stuck her knee in the small of his twist and let him go.
An expression of bliss passed across his face. He gave an experimental bendmotionless.Herrena looked at him, puzzled. She made an experimental move in the direction of her own sword and when nothing happened she grasped it, tested its balance, and stared at Cohen. Only his agonised eyes moved to follow her as she circled him cautiously.'His back's gone again!' whispered Twoflower. 'What can we do?''We can see if we can catch the horses?''Well,' said Herrena, 'I don't know who you are or why you're here, and there's nothing personal about this, you understand.'She raised her sword in both hands.There was a sudden movement in the mists

George Inness The Delaware Water Gap

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Trymon paced the broad mosaic floor of the observatory, which was inlaid with the signs of the Disc zodiac. There were sixty-four of them, from Wezen the Double-headed Kangaroo to Gahoolie, the Vase of Tulips (a constellation of great religious significance whose meaning, alas, was now lost).
He 'Eventually. Of course, before that there would be discquakes, tidal waves, gravitational disruption and probably the atmosphere would be stripped away.'
'Ah. In a word, lack of decent organisation.'
The astrologer hesitated, and gave in. You could say so, sir.'
'People would panic?' 'Fairly briefly, I'm afraid.'
Hmm,' said Trymon, who was just passing over The Perhaps Gate and orbiting smoothly towards the Cow of Heaven. He squinted up again at the red gleam on the horizon. He appeared to reach a decision.
'We can't find Rincewind,' he said, 'and if we can't find Rincewind we can't find the eighth spell of the Octavo. But we believe that the Octavo must be read to avert catastrophe – otherwise why did the Creator leave it behind?'
'Perhaps He was just forgetful,' suggested the astrologerpaused on the blue and gold tilework of Mubbo the Hyaena, and turned suddenly.'We're going to hit it?' he asked.'I am afraid so, sir,' said the astrologer.'Hmm.' Trymon walked a few paces forward, stroking his beard thoughtfully. He paused on the cusp of Okjock the The Celestial Parsnip.'I'm not an expert in these matters,' he said, 'but I imagine this would not be a good thing?''No, sir.''Very hot, stars?'The astrologer swallowed. 'Yes, sir.''We'd be burned up?'

Zhang Xiaogang A Big Family

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as it neared the Edge. It got narrower too, so that the lens was able to remain over water until it was very near the city. The parapet along the edgewise cliff was dotted with gantries projecting into nothingness. The lens glided smoothly towards one of them and docked with it as smoothly as a boat might glide up to a quay. Four guards, to the distant sky. A few elderly men, their robes covered in mysterious occult symbols, stood aside and watched with interest as the sextet passed. Several times Rincewind noticed hydrophobes - their ingrained expressions of self-revulsion at their own body-fluids was distinctive- and here and there trudging men who could only be slaves. He didn't have much time to reflect on all this before a door was opened ahead of them and they were pushed, gently but

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world by now, if I know anything about it. But I can see I mustn't keep you. I expect you'll be wanting to rescue your friend."
Twoflower gaped. "Hrun?" he said.
"Not him. The . I seem to recall I said that. Will say it now, I mean."
The rambling voice got lost in a maze of tenses as Twoflower ran along the dead tunnels, with the dragon loping along easily behind him. But soon he was leaning against a pillar, completely out of breath. It seemed ages since he'd had anything to eat.skinny wizard. My son Lio!rt is trying to hack him to pieces. I admired the way you rescued him. Will, I mean."Twoflower drew himself up to his full height, an easy task. "Where is he?" he said, heading towards the door with what he hoped was an heroic stride."Just follow the pathway in the dust," said the voice. "Liessa comes to see me sometimes. She still comes to see her old dad, my little girl. She was the only one with the strength of character to murder me. A chip off the old block. Good luck, by the way