Guido Reni Archangel MichaelGuido Reni The Archangel MichaelGuido Reni Salome with the head of St John the BaptistGuido Reni Cleopatra
'Anything bad he encounters on his journey after death,' said Carrot, a shade awkwardly.
'Ah.' Vimes hesitated. This was an area in which he did not feel comfortable.
'It's an ancient tradition,' said Carrot.
'I thought dwarfs didn't believe in devils and demons and stuff like that.'
'That's true, but . . . we're not sure if they know.'
'Oh.'
Vimes laid down the axe and picked up something else from the work rack. It was a knight in armour, about nine inches high. expect to find.'
'Well, he's got – he had - all the usual tools, sir. Nice ones, too. Shame, really.'
'What is?'
'They'll be melted down, of course.'There was a key in its back. He turned it, and then nearly dropped the thing when the figure's legs started to move. He put it down, and it began to march stiffly across the floor, waving its sword.'Moves a bit like Colon, don't it,' said Vimes. 'Clockwork!''It's the coming thing,' said Carrot. 'Mr Hammerhock was good at that.'Vimes nodded. 'We're looking for anything that shouldn't be here,' he said. 'Or something that should be and isn't. Is there anything missing?''Hard to say, sir. It isn't here.''What?''Anything that's missing, sir,' said Carrot conscientiously.'I mean,' said Vimes, patiently, 'anything not here which you'd
Vimes stared at the neat racks of hammers and files.
'Why? Can't some other dwarf use them?'
Tuesday 28 April 2009
Monday 27 April 2009
Thomas Kinkade Seaside Hideaway
Thomas Kinkade Seaside HideawayThomas Kinkade Pools of SerenityThomas Kinkade Make a Wish Cottage 2
There was a rectangle of card in the debris.
The hairs on the back of Vimes' hand prickled.
He sniffed rankness in the air.
Vimes would be the first to admit that he wasn't a good copper, but he'd probably be spared the chore because lots of other people would happily admit it for him. There was a certain core of stubborn bloody-mindedness there which upset important people, and anyone who upsets important people is automatically hot a good copper. But he'd developed instincts. You couldn't live on the streets of a city all your life without them. In the same way that the whole jungle subtly changes at the distant approach of the hunter, there was an alteration in the feel of the city.
There was something happening here, something wrong, and he couldn't quite see what it was. He started to reach down—
'What is the meaning of this?'
Vimes letter.
'Well, if you would like the most fundamental reason,' he said, 'it is because I rather think I do.'
A man can be defined by the things he hates. There were quite a lot of things that Captain Vimes hated. Assassins were near the top of the list, just after kings and the undead.straightened up. He did not turn around.'Sergeant Colon, I want you to go back to the Watch House with Nobby and Detritus,' he said. 'Corporal Carrot and Lance-Constable Cuddy, you stay with me.''Yes, sah!' said Sergeant Colon, stamping heavily and ripping off a smart salute to annoy the Assassins. Vimes acknowledged it.Then he turned around.'Ah, Dr Cruces,' he said.The Master of Assassins was white with rage, contrasting nicely with the extreme black of his clothing.'No-one sent for you!' he said. 'What gives you the right to be here, mister policeman? Walking around as if you own the place?'Vimes paused, his heart singing. He savoured the moment. He'd like to take this moment and press it carefully in a big book, so that when he was old he could take it out occasionally and remember it.He reached into his breastplate and pulled out the lawyer's
There was a rectangle of card in the debris.
The hairs on the back of Vimes' hand prickled.
He sniffed rankness in the air.
Vimes would be the first to admit that he wasn't a good copper, but he'd probably be spared the chore because lots of other people would happily admit it for him. There was a certain core of stubborn bloody-mindedness there which upset important people, and anyone who upsets important people is automatically hot a good copper. But he'd developed instincts. You couldn't live on the streets of a city all your life without them. In the same way that the whole jungle subtly changes at the distant approach of the hunter, there was an alteration in the feel of the city.
There was something happening here, something wrong, and he couldn't quite see what it was. He started to reach down—
'What is the meaning of this?'
Vimes letter.
'Well, if you would like the most fundamental reason,' he said, 'it is because I rather think I do.'
A man can be defined by the things he hates. There were quite a lot of things that Captain Vimes hated. Assassins were near the top of the list, just after kings and the undead.straightened up. He did not turn around.'Sergeant Colon, I want you to go back to the Watch House with Nobby and Detritus,' he said. 'Corporal Carrot and Lance-Constable Cuddy, you stay with me.''Yes, sah!' said Sergeant Colon, stamping heavily and ripping off a smart salute to annoy the Assassins. Vimes acknowledged it.Then he turned around.'Ah, Dr Cruces,' he said.The Master of Assassins was white with rage, contrasting nicely with the extreme black of his clothing.'No-one sent for you!' he said. 'What gives you the right to be here, mister policeman? Walking around as if you own the place?'Vimes paused, his heart singing. He savoured the moment. He'd like to take this moment and press it carefully in a big book, so that when he was old he could take it out occasionally and remember it.He reached into his breastplate and pulled out the lawyer's
Sunday 26 April 2009
Pablo Picasso Girl Before a Mirror
Pablo Picasso Girl Before a MirrorYvonne Jeanette Karlsen NudeTamara de Lempicka Dormeuse
kicked the stone.
“But one day we’ll find a way to sail that ocean,” he said. He sighed. “Come on. I suppose we’d better get down to the castle.”
The Librarian watched them join the procession of tired men who were staggering down the valley.
Then he pulled at the nail a few times, and watched it fly back to the stone.
“Oook.”lost lands and several tons of gold, which was pretty good going for something less than a foot across. Even Nanny Ogg had never been told about the contents, apart from the will.
290
(.ORQ8 ftttD Lft0f£6
She was a bit disappointed but not at all surprised to find that it contained nothing more than a couple of large envelopes, a bundle of letters, and a miscellaneous assort-ment of common items in the bottom.He looked up into the eyes of Jason Ogg.Much to Jason’s surprise, the orang-utan winked.Sometimes, if you pay real close attention to the pebbles you find out about the ocean.The clock ticked.In the chilly morning gloom of Granny Weatherwax’s cottage. Nanny Ogg opened the box.Everyone in Lancre knew about Esme Weatherwax’s mysterious box. It was variously rumored to contain books of spells, a small private universe, cures for all ills, the deeds of
kicked the stone.
“But one day we’ll find a way to sail that ocean,” he said. He sighed. “Come on. I suppose we’d better get down to the castle.”
The Librarian watched them join the procession of tired men who were staggering down the valley.
Then he pulled at the nail a few times, and watched it fly back to the stone.
“Oook.”lost lands and several tons of gold, which was pretty good going for something less than a foot across. Even Nanny Ogg had never been told about the contents, apart from the will.
290
(.ORQ8 ftttD Lft0f£6
She was a bit disappointed but not at all surprised to find that it contained nothing more than a couple of large envelopes, a bundle of letters, and a miscellaneous assort-ment of common items in the bottom.He looked up into the eyes of Jason Ogg.Much to Jason’s surprise, the orang-utan winked.Sometimes, if you pay real close attention to the pebbles you find out about the ocean.The clock ticked.In the chilly morning gloom of Granny Weatherwax’s cottage. Nanny Ogg opened the box.Everyone in Lancre knew about Esme Weatherwax’s mysterious box. It was variously rumored to contain books of spells, a small private universe, cures for all ills, the deeds of
Friday 24 April 2009
Pop art brown in gold
Pop art brown in goldPop art billie on blackPop art art on fire
anything to go by, but maybe—it was a horrible thought—maybe they’d just stopped it getting worse.
There were not the simple absence of day, patrolled by the moon and stars, but an extension of something that had existed long before there was any light to define it by absence. It was unfolding itself from under tree roots and inside stones, crawling back across the land.
Magrat’s sack of what she considered to be essential props might be at the bottom of the river but she had been a witch for more than ten years, and she could feel the terror in the air.
People remember badly. But societies remember well, the swarm remembers, encoding the information to slip it past the censors of the mind, passing it on from grandmother to grandchild in little bits of nonsense they won’t hardly any lights in the town, and a lot of the houses had their shutters up.The horse’s hooves clattered loudly on the cobbles.234LQRQ6 fi/VD LfiQIEQMagrat peered into the shadows. Once, they’d just been shadows. Now they could be gateways to anything.Clouds were pressing in from the Hub. Magrat shivered.This was something she’d never seen before.It was true night.Night had fallen in Lancre, and it was an old night. It was
anything to go by, but maybe—it was a horrible thought—maybe they’d just stopped it getting worse.
There were not the simple absence of day, patrolled by the moon and stars, but an extension of something that had existed long before there was any light to define it by absence. It was unfolding itself from under tree roots and inside stones, crawling back across the land.
Magrat’s sack of what she considered to be essential props might be at the bottom of the river but she had been a witch for more than ten years, and she could feel the terror in the air.
People remember badly. But societies remember well, the swarm remembers, encoding the information to slip it past the censors of the mind, passing it on from grandmother to grandchild in little bits of nonsense they won’t hardly any lights in the town, and a lot of the houses had their shutters up.The horse’s hooves clattered loudly on the cobbles.234LQRQ6 fi/VD LfiQIEQMagrat peered into the shadows. Once, they’d just been shadows. Now they could be gateways to anything.Clouds were pressing in from the Hub. Magrat shivered.This was something she’d never seen before.It was true night.Night had fallen in Lancre, and it was an old night. It was
Tuesday 21 April 2009
Joaquin Sorolla y Bastida The Wounded Foot
Joaquin Sorolla y Bastida The Wounded FootJoaquin Sorolla y Bastida Stemming Raisins JaveaJoaquin Sorolla y Bastida Sewing the SailJoaquin Sorolla y Bastida Ninos en el Mar
his kingdom and that was right and proper too. But in a deeper sense the kingdom belonged to her. And to Gytha Ogg, of course. Verence’s writ only ran to the doings of mankind; even the dwarfs and trolls didn’t acknowledge him as king, although they were very polite about it. But when it came to the trees and the rocks and the soil. “I remember when I was young there was a girl like Diamanda. Bad-tempered and impatient and talented and a real pain in the bum to the old witches. I don’t know if you happen to remember her, by any chance?”
They passed Jason’s forge, which rang to the sound of his hammer.
“I never forgot her,” said Granny, quietly.
“Funny thing, how things go round in circles ...”Granny Weatherwax saw it as hers. She was sensi-tive to its moods.It was still being watched. She could sense the watch-138LQRQ6 ft/YO iftQ/£6fulness. Sufficiently close examination changes the thing being observed, and what was being observed was the whole country. The whole country was under attack, and here she was, her mind unraveling ...“Funny thing,” said Nanny Ogg, to no one in particular, “while I was sitting up there at the Dancers this morning I thought, funny thing...”“What’re you going on about now?”
his kingdom and that was right and proper too. But in a deeper sense the kingdom belonged to her. And to Gytha Ogg, of course. Verence’s writ only ran to the doings of mankind; even the dwarfs and trolls didn’t acknowledge him as king, although they were very polite about it. But when it came to the trees and the rocks and the soil. “I remember when I was young there was a girl like Diamanda. Bad-tempered and impatient and talented and a real pain in the bum to the old witches. I don’t know if you happen to remember her, by any chance?”
They passed Jason’s forge, which rang to the sound of his hammer.
“I never forgot her,” said Granny, quietly.
“Funny thing, how things go round in circles ...”Granny Weatherwax saw it as hers. She was sensi-tive to its moods.It was still being watched. She could sense the watch-138LQRQ6 ft/YO iftQ/£6fulness. Sufficiently close examination changes the thing being observed, and what was being observed was the whole country. The whole country was under attack, and here she was, her mind unraveling ...“Funny thing,” said Nanny Ogg, to no one in particular, “while I was sitting up there at the Dancers this morning I thought, funny thing...”“What’re you going on about now?”
Monday 20 April 2009
Thomas Moran Moonlit Seascape
Thomas Moran Moonlit SeascapeThomas Moran Grand Canyon of the YellowstoneThomas Moran Cresheim Glen, Wissahickon, Autumn
Ridcully looked the elegantly dressed stranger up and down or, rather, down and further down.
Terry Pratchett
“You don’t REPAIRED
Ponder peered over Ridcully’s shoulder.
“Are you really an outrageous liar?”
“No.”
“Why are you trying to rob coaches, then?”
“I am afraid I was waylaid by bandits.”
“But it says here,” said Ridcully, “that you are a finest swordsman.”
“I was outnumbered.”
“How many of them were there?”
“Three million.”look like a dwarf,” he said, “apart from the height, that is.”“Don’t look like a dwarf apart from the height?”“I mean, the helmet and iron boots department is among those you are lacking in,” said Ridcully.The dwarf bowed and produced a slip of pasteboard from one grubby but lace-clad sleeve.“My card,” he said.It read:S^ayyz^ G>a^<2^wza^WORLD’S SECOND GREATEST LOVER FINEST SWORDSMAN SOLDIER OF FORTUNEOUTRAGEOUS LIAR STEPLADDERS
Ridcully looked the elegantly dressed stranger up and down or, rather, down and further down.
Terry Pratchett
“You don’t REPAIRED
Ponder peered over Ridcully’s shoulder.
“Are you really an outrageous liar?”
“No.”
“Why are you trying to rob coaches, then?”
“I am afraid I was waylaid by bandits.”
“But it says here,” said Ridcully, “that you are a finest swordsman.”
“I was outnumbered.”
“How many of them were there?”
“Three million.”look like a dwarf,” he said, “apart from the height, that is.”“Don’t look like a dwarf apart from the height?”“I mean, the helmet and iron boots department is among those you are lacking in,” said Ridcully.The dwarf bowed and produced a slip of pasteboard from one grubby but lace-clad sleeve.“My card,” he said.It read:S^ayyz^ G>a^<2^wza^WORLD’S SECOND GREATEST LOVER FINEST SWORDSMAN SOLDIER OF FORTUNEOUTRAGEOUS LIAR STEPLADDERS
Thursday 16 April 2009
Raphael The Holy Family
Raphael The Holy FamilyWilliam Bouguereau The Virgin of the LiliesWilliam Bouguereau The Madonna of the Roses
Don't put your faith in gods. But you can believe in turtles.
A feeling of rushing wind in Brutha's mind, and a voice . . .
-obuggerbuggerbuggerhelpaarghnoNoNoAarghBuggerNONOAARGH-
Even Vorbis got a grip of himself. There had been just a moment, when he'd seen the eagle-but, no . . .
He extended his arms and smiled beatifically at the sky.
"I'm sorry," as the belief of thousands of people flowed into him. There were shapes there, of eagle-headed men, and bulls, and golden horns, but they tangled and flamed and fused into one another.
Four bolts of fire whirred out of the cloud and burst the chains holding Brutha.
II. He Is Cenobiarch And Prophet of Prophets.said Brutha.One or two people, who had been watching Vorbis closely, said later that there was just time for his expression to change before two pounds of tortoise, traveling at three meters a second, hit him between the eyes.It was a revelation.And that does something to people watching. For a start, they believe with all their heart. Brutha was aware of feet running up the steps, and hands pulling at the chains.And then a voice:I. He is Mine.The Great God rose over the Temple, billowing and changing
Don't put your faith in gods. But you can believe in turtles.
A feeling of rushing wind in Brutha's mind, and a voice . . .
-obuggerbuggerbuggerhelpaarghnoNoNoAarghBuggerNONOAARGH-
Even Vorbis got a grip of himself. There had been just a moment, when he'd seen the eagle-but, no . . .
He extended his arms and smiled beatifically at the sky.
"I'm sorry," as the belief of thousands of people flowed into him. There were shapes there, of eagle-headed men, and bulls, and golden horns, but they tangled and flamed and fused into one another.
Four bolts of fire whirred out of the cloud and burst the chains holding Brutha.
II. He Is Cenobiarch And Prophet of Prophets.said Brutha.One or two people, who had been watching Vorbis closely, said later that there was just time for his expression to change before two pounds of tortoise, traveling at three meters a second, hit him between the eyes.It was a revelation.And that does something to people watching. For a start, they believe with all their heart. Brutha was aware of feet running up the steps, and hands pulling at the chains.And then a voice:I. He is Mine.The Great God rose over the Temple, billowing and changing
Alphonse Maria Mucha Fruit
Alphonse Maria Mucha FruitAlphonse Maria Mucha FlowerAlphonse Maria Mucha Flirt
on the whole, there are worse places to be buried than inside a lion.
There were snakes and lizards on the rock islands. They were probably very nourishing and every one was, in its own way, a taste explosion.
There was no more water.
But there were plants . . . more or less. They looked like groups of stones, except where a few had put up a central flower spike that was a brilliant pink and purple in the dawn light.
"Where do they get the water from?"
"Fossil seas."
"Water that's turned to stone?"
"No. Water that sank down thousands of years ago.
Right down in the bedrock."
"Can you dig "I'll watch and find out."
Brutha led Vorbis into the shade of a large boulder, and gently pushed him down. Then he lay down too.
The thirst wasn't too bad yet. He'd drunk from the temple pool until he squelched as he walked. Later on, they might find a snake . . . When you considered what some people in the world down to it?""Don't be stupid."Brutha glanced from the flower to the nearest rock island."Honey," he said."What?" The bees had a nest high on the side of a spire of rock. The buzzing could be heard from ground level. There was no possible way up."Nice try," said Om.The sun was up. Already the rocks were warm to the touch. "Get some rest," said Om, kindly. "I'll keep watch.""Watch for what?"
on the whole, there are worse places to be buried than inside a lion.
There were snakes and lizards on the rock islands. They were probably very nourishing and every one was, in its own way, a taste explosion.
There was no more water.
But there were plants . . . more or less. They looked like groups of stones, except where a few had put up a central flower spike that was a brilliant pink and purple in the dawn light.
"Where do they get the water from?"
"Fossil seas."
"Water that's turned to stone?"
"No. Water that sank down thousands of years ago.
Right down in the bedrock."
"Can you dig "I'll watch and find out."
Brutha led Vorbis into the shade of a large boulder, and gently pushed him down. Then he lay down too.
The thirst wasn't too bad yet. He'd drunk from the temple pool until he squelched as he walked. Later on, they might find a snake . . . When you considered what some people in the world down to it?""Don't be stupid."Brutha glanced from the flower to the nearest rock island."Honey," he said."What?" The bees had a nest high on the side of a spire of rock. The buzzing could be heard from ground level. There was no possible way up."Nice try," said Om.The sun was up. Already the rocks were warm to the touch. "Get some rest," said Om, kindly. "I'll keep watch.""Watch for what?"
Tuesday 14 April 2009
Tom Thomson the jack pine
Tom Thomson the jack pineTom Thomson Jack PineRodney White Nothing to Dream
I don't think he does either," said the captain gloomily.
"Seven, and then four."
"It'll be the Quisition for me," said the captain.
Brutha was about to say, "Then rejoice that your soul shall be purified." But he didn't. And he didn't know why he didn't.
"I'm sorry about that," he said.
A veneer of
"Brutha! "
Guilt jerked Brutha upright like a hooked fish. He turned around, and sagged with relief. It wasn't Vorbis, it was only God.
He padded over to the place in front of the mast. Om glared up at him.
"Yes?" said Brutha.surprise overlaid the captain's grief."You people usually say something about how the Quisition is good for the soul," he said."I'm sure it is," said Brutha.The captain was watching his face intently."It's flat, you know," he said quietly. "I've sailed out into the Rim Ocean. It's flat, and I've seen the Edge, and it moves. Not the Edge. I mean . . . what's down there. They can cut my head off but it will still move.""But it will stop moving for you," said Brutha. "So I should be careful to whom you speak, captain."The captain leaned closer."The Turtle Moves!" he hissed, and darted away.
I don't think he does either," said the captain gloomily.
"Seven, and then four."
"It'll be the Quisition for me," said the captain.
Brutha was about to say, "Then rejoice that your soul shall be purified." But he didn't. And he didn't know why he didn't.
"I'm sorry about that," he said.
A veneer of
"Brutha! "
Guilt jerked Brutha upright like a hooked fish. He turned around, and sagged with relief. It wasn't Vorbis, it was only God.
He padded over to the place in front of the mast. Om glared up at him.
"Yes?" said Brutha.surprise overlaid the captain's grief."You people usually say something about how the Quisition is good for the soul," he said."I'm sure it is," said Brutha.The captain was watching his face intently."It's flat, you know," he said quietly. "I've sailed out into the Rim Ocean. It's flat, and I've seen the Edge, and it moves. Not the Edge. I mean . . . what's down there. They can cut my head off but it will still move.""But it will stop moving for you," said Brutha. "So I should be careful to whom you speak, captain."The captain leaned closer."The Turtle Moves!" he hissed, and darted away.
Monday 13 April 2009
Thomas Kinkade Seaside Village
Thomas Kinkade Seaside VillageThomas Kinkade Bridge of HopeEdward Hopper SummertimeEdward Hopper Night WindowsEdward Hopper Lighthouse Hill
Hundreds of thousands of people live their lives by the Abjurations and the Precepts!" Brutha snarled.
"Well? I'm not stopping them," said Om.
"If you didn't dictate them, who did?"
"Don't ask me. I'm not omnicognisant!"
Brutha was shaking with anger.
"And the Prophet Abbys? I suppose someone just happened to give him the Codicils, did they?"
"It wasn't give him the Book of Creation, then?"
"What Book of Creation?"
"You mean you don't know?"
"No.
"Then who gave it to him?"me-”"They're written on slabs of lead ten feet tall!""Oh, well, it must have been me, yes? I always have a ton of lead slabs around in case I meet someone in the desert, yes?""What! If you didn't give them to him, who did?" "I don't know. Why should I know? I can't be everywhere at once!""You're omnipresent!""What says so?""The Prophet Hashimi!""Never met the man!""Oh? Oh? So I suppose you didn't
Hundreds of thousands of people live their lives by the Abjurations and the Precepts!" Brutha snarled.
"Well? I'm not stopping them," said Om.
"If you didn't dictate them, who did?"
"Don't ask me. I'm not omnicognisant!"
Brutha was shaking with anger.
"And the Prophet Abbys? I suppose someone just happened to give him the Codicils, did they?"
"It wasn't give him the Book of Creation, then?"
"What Book of Creation?"
"You mean you don't know?"
"No.
"Then who gave it to him?"me-”"They're written on slabs of lead ten feet tall!""Oh, well, it must have been me, yes? I always have a ton of lead slabs around in case I meet someone in the desert, yes?""What! If you didn't give them to him, who did?" "I don't know. Why should I know? I can't be everywhere at once!""You're omnipresent!""What says so?""The Prophet Hashimi!""Never met the man!""Oh? Oh? So I suppose you didn't
Francois Boucher Venus Consoling Love
Francois Boucher Venus Consoling LoveFrancois Boucher The Toilet of VenusGustav Klimt The Virgin
forget.'
'Oook?'
'I can't help it! It's too easy to change things!' He clutched his head. 'I've only got to think of something! I can't stay, everything I touch goes wrong, it's like trying to sleep on a heap of eggs! This world is too thin! Please tell me what part of the world. They merely wear it for a while.
He looked back, halfway across the turf, and waved at the Librarian. The ape gave him an encouraging nod.
And then the bubble shrank inside itself, and the last sourcerer vanished from this world and into a world of his own.to do!'The Librarian spun around on his bottom a few times, a sure sign of deep thought.Exactly what he said is not recorded, but Coin smiled, nodded, shook the Librarian's hand, and opened his own hands and drew them up and around him and stepped into another world. It had a lake in, and some distant mountains, and a few pheasants watching him suspiciously from under the trees. It was the magic all sourcerers learned, eventually.Sourcerers never become
forget.'
'Oook?'
'I can't help it! It's too easy to change things!' He clutched his head. 'I've only got to think of something! I can't stay, everything I touch goes wrong, it's like trying to sleep on a heap of eggs! This world is too thin! Please tell me what part of the world. They merely wear it for a while.
He looked back, halfway across the turf, and waved at the Librarian. The ape gave him an encouraging nod.
And then the bubble shrank inside itself, and the last sourcerer vanished from this world and into a world of his own.to do!'The Librarian spun around on his bottom a few times, a sure sign of deep thought.Exactly what he said is not recorded, but Coin smiled, nodded, shook the Librarian's hand, and opened his own hands and drew them up and around him and stepped into another world. It had a lake in, and some distant mountains, and a few pheasants watching him suspiciously from under the trees. It was the magic all sourcerers learned, eventually.Sourcerers never become
Friday 10 April 2009
William Bouguereau Le Jour
William Bouguereau Le JourWilliam Bouguereau DawnWilliam Bouguereau Dante and Virgil in Hell
They were about three feet from the far end when Rincewind felt a movement in the air above him. Conina struck him in the small of the back, shoving him forward into the room beyond. He rolled when he hit the floor, and a-’
He intercepted Conina's gaze, which had the force of a lead pipe, and wisely shut up.
Nijel emerged from the clouds, coughing.
'I say, what happened?' he said. 'Is everyone all right? It didn't do that when I went through.'
Rincewind sought for a reply, and couldn't find anything better than, 'Didn't it?'
Light filtered into the deep room from tiny barred something nicked his foot at the same time as a loud thump deafened him.The entire roof, a huge block of stone four feet thick, had dropped into the tunnel.Rincewind crawled forward through the dust clouds and, with a trembling finger, traced the lettering on the side of the slab.'Laugh This One Off,' he said.He sat back.'That's grandad,' said Creosote happily, 'always
They were about three feet from the far end when Rincewind felt a movement in the air above him. Conina struck him in the small of the back, shoving him forward into the room beyond. He rolled when he hit the floor, and a-’
He intercepted Conina's gaze, which had the force of a lead pipe, and wisely shut up.
Nijel emerged from the clouds, coughing.
'I say, what happened?' he said. 'Is everyone all right? It didn't do that when I went through.'
Rincewind sought for a reply, and couldn't find anything better than, 'Didn't it?'
Light filtered into the deep room from tiny barred something nicked his foot at the same time as a loud thump deafened him.The entire roof, a huge block of stone four feet thick, had dropped into the tunnel.Rincewind crawled forward through the dust clouds and, with a trembling finger, traced the lettering on the side of the slab.'Laugh This One Off,' he said.He sat back.'That's grandad,' said Creosote happily, 'always
Wednesday 8 April 2009
Jean-Honore Fragonard Cephale et Procris
Jean-Honore Fragonard Cephale et ProcrisEdgar Degas DancerWilliam Beard So You Wanna Get Married
fire! Hah?'
The dark forests of his eyebrows wrinkled as it became apparent that Rincewind wasn't immediately ready to hurl vengeful magic at the invaders.
'Hah?' he insisted,Rincewind turned to Conina, who was leaning on the rail examining her fingernails.
'You'd better get on with it,' she said. 'That's fifty green fires and hot leads to go, with a side order for blisters and scorpions. Hold the mercy.'
'This sort of thing is always happening to me,' he moaned.
He peered over the rail to what he thought of as the main floor of the boat making a mere single syllable do the work of a whole string of blood-congealing threats.'Yes, well, I'm just - I'm just girding my loins,' said Rincewind. 'hat's what I'm doing. Girding them. Green fire, you want?''Also to make hot lead run in their bones,' said the captain. 'Also their skins to blister and living scorpions without mercy to eat their brains from inside, and-’The leading canoe came alongside and a couple of grapnels thudded into the rail. As the first of the savers appeared the captain hurried away, drawing his sword. He stopped for a moment and turned to Rincewind.'You gird quickly,' he said. 'Or no loins. Hah?'
fire! Hah?'
The dark forests of his eyebrows wrinkled as it became apparent that Rincewind wasn't immediately ready to hurl vengeful magic at the invaders.
'Hah?' he insisted,Rincewind turned to Conina, who was leaning on the rail examining her fingernails.
'You'd better get on with it,' she said. 'That's fifty green fires and hot leads to go, with a side order for blisters and scorpions. Hold the mercy.'
'This sort of thing is always happening to me,' he moaned.
He peered over the rail to what he thought of as the main floor of the boat making a mere single syllable do the work of a whole string of blood-congealing threats.'Yes, well, I'm just - I'm just girding my loins,' said Rincewind. 'hat's what I'm doing. Girding them. Green fire, you want?''Also to make hot lead run in their bones,' said the captain. 'Also their skins to blister and living scorpions without mercy to eat their brains from inside, and-’The leading canoe came alongside and a couple of grapnels thudded into the rail. As the first of the savers appeared the captain hurried away, drawing his sword. He stopped for a moment and turned to Rincewind.'You gird quickly,' he said. 'Or no loins. Hah?'
Vincent van Gogh Souvenir de Mauve
Vincent van Gogh Souvenir de MauveVincent van Gogh Peach Tree in BloomVincent van Gogh The Red Vineyard
croon as much as they like.
The reason , although the real reason had long been forgotten: if wizards were allowed to go around breeding all the time, there was a risk of sourcery.
Of course, Rincewind had been around a bit and had seen a thing or two, and had thrown off his early training to such an extent that he was quite capable of spending hours at a time in a woman's company without having to go off for a cold shower and a lie-down. But that voice would have made even a statue get down off its pedestal for a few brisk laps of the playing given to young wizards was that the practice of magic is hard and demanding and incompatible with sticky and furtive activities. It was a lot more sensible, they were told, to stop worrying about that sort of thing and really get to grips with Woddeley's Occult Primer instead. Funnily enough this didn't seem to satisfy, and young wizards suspected that the real reason was that the rules were made by old wizards. With poor memories. They were quite wrong
croon as much as they like.
The reason , although the real reason had long been forgotten: if wizards were allowed to go around breeding all the time, there was a risk of sourcery.
Of course, Rincewind had been around a bit and had seen a thing or two, and had thrown off his early training to such an extent that he was quite capable of spending hours at a time in a woman's company without having to go off for a cold shower and a lie-down. But that voice would have made even a statue get down off its pedestal for a few brisk laps of the playing given to young wizards was that the practice of magic is hard and demanding and incompatible with sticky and furtive activities. It was a lot more sensible, they were told, to stop worrying about that sort of thing and really get to grips with Woddeley's Occult Primer instead. Funnily enough this didn't seem to satisfy, and young wizards suspected that the real reason was that the rules were made by old wizards. With poor memories. They were quite wrong
Monday 6 April 2009
Paul Gauguin Tahitian Women On the Beach
Paul Gauguin Tahitian Women On the BeachPaul Gauguin Still Life with Three PuppiesPaul Gauguin Nave Nave Moe
Was that a yo?’ said the Dean, suspiciously.
‘Oook.’
‘Well . . . all right, then.’
Death sat on a mountaintop. It wasn’t particularly high, or bare, or sinister. No witches held naked sabbats on it; the blade of his scythe in long, deliberate strokes.
There was a movement of air. Three grey servants popped into existence.
One said, You think you have won?
One said, You think you have triumphed?
Death turned the stone in his hand, to get a fresh surface. and brought it slowly down the length of the blade.
One said, We will inform Azrael.
One said, You are only, after all, a little Death. Death held the blade up to the moonlightDiscworld witches, on the whole, didn’t hold with taking off any more clothes than was absolutely necessary for the business in hand. No spectres haunted it. No naked little men sat on the summit dispensing wisdom, because the first thing the truly-wise man works out is that sitting around on mountaintops gives you not only haemorrhoids but frostbitten haemorrhoids.Occasionally people would climb the mountain and add a stone or two to the cairn at the top, if only to prove that there is nothing really damn stupid that humans won’t do.Death sat on the cairn and ran a stone down
Was that a yo?’ said the Dean, suspiciously.
‘Oook.’
‘Well . . . all right, then.’
Death sat on a mountaintop. It wasn’t particularly high, or bare, or sinister. No witches held naked sabbats on it; the blade of his scythe in long, deliberate strokes.
There was a movement of air. Three grey servants popped into existence.
One said, You think you have won?
One said, You think you have triumphed?
Death turned the stone in his hand, to get a fresh surface. and brought it slowly down the length of the blade.
One said, We will inform Azrael.
One said, You are only, after all, a little Death. Death held the blade up to the moonlightDiscworld witches, on the whole, didn’t hold with taking off any more clothes than was absolutely necessary for the business in hand. No spectres haunted it. No naked little men sat on the summit dispensing wisdom, because the first thing the truly-wise man works out is that sitting around on mountaintops gives you not only haemorrhoids but frostbitten haemorrhoids.Occasionally people would climb the mountain and add a stone or two to the cairn at the top, if only to prove that there is nothing really damn stupid that humans won’t do.Death sat on the cairn and ran a stone down
Thomas Kinkade The Beginning of a Perfect Day
Thomas Kinkade The Beginning of a Perfect DayThomas Kinkade Sunset at Riverbend FarmThomas Kinkade Seaside Hideaway
can’t get a clear shot at anything with all these civilians around,’ complained the Dean.
‘There’s hundreds of trolleys!’ said the Lecturer in Recent Runes. ‘It’s just like vermine! * Get away from me, you - you basket!’
l with his staff. The tide of wheeled baskets was flowing out of the city. The struggling humans gradually dropped out or fell under the wobbling wheels. Only the wizards stayed in the flowing tide, shouting at one another and attacking the silvery swarm with their staves. It wasn’t that magic didn’t work. It worked quite well.
A good zap could turn a trolley into a thousand intricate little wire puzzles.Vermine are small black-and-white rodents found in the Ramtop Mountains. They are ancestors of the lemming, which as is well known throws itself over cliffs and drowns in lakes on a regular basis. Vermine used to do that, too. The point is, though, that dead animals don’t breed, and over the He flailed at an importunate trolley
can’t get a clear shot at anything with all these civilians around,’ complained the Dean.
‘There’s hundreds of trolleys!’ said the Lecturer in Recent Runes. ‘It’s just like vermine! * Get away from me, you - you basket!’
l with his staff. The tide of wheeled baskets was flowing out of the city. The struggling humans gradually dropped out or fell under the wobbling wheels. Only the wizards stayed in the flowing tide, shouting at one another and attacking the silvery swarm with their staves. It wasn’t that magic didn’t work. It worked quite well.
A good zap could turn a trolley into a thousand intricate little wire puzzles.Vermine are small black-and-white rodents found in the Ramtop Mountains. They are ancestors of the lemming, which as is well known throws itself over cliffs and drowns in lakes on a regular basis. Vermine used to do that, too. The point is, though, that dead animals don’t breed, and over the He flailed at an importunate trolley
Thursday 2 April 2009
Leonardo da Vinci Portrait of Ginevra Benci
Leonardo da Vinci Portrait of Ginevra BenciLeonardo da Vinci The Madonna of the CarnationLeonardo da Vinci da Vinci Self Portrait
now he was in his study, and that was odd, because he couldn’t quite remember how he’d got there. One minute on horseback, the next in the study, with its ledgers and timers and instruments. And it was bigger than he remembered. The walls lurked on the edge of sight.
That was Bill Door’s doing. Of course it would seem big to Bill Door. and there was probably just a bit of him bed. On the edge of dreams she’d heard another noise, which must have woken the cockerel.
She fiddled with a match until she got a candle alight, and then felt under the bed and her fingers found the hilt of a cutlass that had been much employed by the late Mr Flitworth during his business trips across the mountains.
She hurried down the creaking stairs and out into the chill of the dawn. still hanging on. The thing to do was keep busy. Throw himself into his work.There were already some lifetimers on his desk. He didn’t remember putting them there, but that didn’t matter, the important thing was to ?get? on with the job . . .He picked up the nearest one, and read the name.‘Lod-a-foodle-wok!’Miss Flitworth sat up in
now he was in his study, and that was odd, because he couldn’t quite remember how he’d got there. One minute on horseback, the next in the study, with its ledgers and timers and instruments. And it was bigger than he remembered. The walls lurked on the edge of sight.
That was Bill Door’s doing. Of course it would seem big to Bill Door. and there was probably just a bit of him bed. On the edge of dreams she’d heard another noise, which must have woken the cockerel.
She fiddled with a match until she got a candle alight, and then felt under the bed and her fingers found the hilt of a cutlass that had been much employed by the late Mr Flitworth during his business trips across the mountains.
She hurried down the creaking stairs and out into the chill of the dawn. still hanging on. The thing to do was keep busy. Throw himself into his work.There were already some lifetimers on his desk. He didn’t remember putting them there, but that didn’t matter, the important thing was to ?get? on with the job . . .He picked up the nearest one, and read the name.‘Lod-a-foodle-wok!’Miss Flitworth sat up in
Dante Gabriel Rossetti Venus Verticordia
Dante Gabriel Rossetti Venus VerticordiaClaude Monet Haystack at GivernyJean Auguste Dominique Ingres Ingres The Source
that the world shouldn’t act as if it was some kind of book. Isn’t that a terrible thing to have thought?’
I MYSELF HAVE NEVER TRUSTED DRAMA, MISS FLITWORTH.
She wasn’t really listening.
‘And I thought, what life expects me to do now is moon around the place in the wedding dress for years and go completely doodly. That’s what it wants me to do. Hah! Oh, yes! So I put the dress in the ragtag and we still invited She glanced up at the boggle-eyed owl.
‘What? Oh. Why?’
I AM AFRAID IT GETS ON MY NERVES.
‘It’s not very loud, is it?’
Bill Door wanted to say that every tick was like the hammering of iron clubs on bronze pillars.
H’S JUST RATHER ANNOYING, MISS FLITWORTH.
everyone to the wedding breakfast, because it’s a crime to let good food go to waste.’She attacked the fire again, and then gave him another megawatt stare. ‘I think it’s always very important to see what’s really real and what isn’t, don’t you?’MISS FLITWORTH?‘Yes?’DO YOU MIND IF I STOP THE CLOCK?
that the world shouldn’t act as if it was some kind of book. Isn’t that a terrible thing to have thought?’
I MYSELF HAVE NEVER TRUSTED DRAMA, MISS FLITWORTH.
She wasn’t really listening.
‘And I thought, what life expects me to do now is moon around the place in the wedding dress for years and go completely doodly. That’s what it wants me to do. Hah! Oh, yes! So I put the dress in the ragtag and we still invited She glanced up at the boggle-eyed owl.
‘What? Oh. Why?’
I AM AFRAID IT GETS ON MY NERVES.
‘It’s not very loud, is it?’
Bill Door wanted to say that every tick was like the hammering of iron clubs on bronze pillars.
H’S JUST RATHER ANNOYING, MISS FLITWORTH.
everyone to the wedding breakfast, because it’s a crime to let good food go to waste.’She attacked the fire again, and then gave him another megawatt stare. ‘I think it’s always very important to see what’s really real and what isn’t, don’t you?’MISS FLITWORTH?‘Yes?’DO YOU MIND IF I STOP THE CLOCK?
Wednesday 1 April 2009
Thomas Kinkade San Francisco Lombard Street
Thomas Kinkade San Francisco Lombard StreetThomas Kinkade Rose GateThomas Kinkade Paris City of LightsThomas Kinkade New HorizonsThomas Kinkade Mountain Memories
Colon?’ but because the modern, go-ahead, intelligent law officer ought to be ?at least? one jump ahead of the contemporary criminal. One day someone was bound to try to steal the Brass Bridge, and then they’d find Sergeant Colon right there waiting for them.
In the meantime, it offered a quiet place out of the wind where he could have a relaxing smoke and probably not see anything that would upset him. He leaned with his elbows on the parapet, wondering vaguely about Life. A minutes there was a disturbance in the scum and debris near the base of one of the pillars of the bridge, where a flight of greasy stairs led down to the water.
A pointy hat appeared.figure stumbled out of the mist. Sergeant Colon recognised the familiar pointy hat of a wizard. ‘Good evening, officer, ‘ its wearer croaked.‘Morning, y’honour.’‘Would you be kind enough to help me up on to the parapet, officer?’ Sergeant Colon hesitated. But the chap was a wizard. A man could get into serious trouble not helping wizards.‘Trying out some new magic, y’honour?’ he said, brightly, helping the skinny but surprisingly heavy body up on to the crumbling stonework. ‘No.’Windle Poons stepped off the bridge. There was a squelch. * Sergeant Colon looked down as the waters of the Ankh closed again, slowly.Those wizards. Always up to something.He watched for a while. After several
Colon?’ but because the modern, go-ahead, intelligent law officer ought to be ?at least? one jump ahead of the contemporary criminal. One day someone was bound to try to steal the Brass Bridge, and then they’d find Sergeant Colon right there waiting for them.
In the meantime, it offered a quiet place out of the wind where he could have a relaxing smoke and probably not see anything that would upset him. He leaned with his elbows on the parapet, wondering vaguely about Life. A minutes there was a disturbance in the scum and debris near the base of one of the pillars of the bridge, where a flight of greasy stairs led down to the water.
A pointy hat appeared.figure stumbled out of the mist. Sergeant Colon recognised the familiar pointy hat of a wizard. ‘Good evening, officer, ‘ its wearer croaked.‘Morning, y’honour.’‘Would you be kind enough to help me up on to the parapet, officer?’ Sergeant Colon hesitated. But the chap was a wizard. A man could get into serious trouble not helping wizards.‘Trying out some new magic, y’honour?’ he said, brightly, helping the skinny but surprisingly heavy body up on to the crumbling stonework. ‘No.’Windle Poons stepped off the bridge. There was a squelch. * Sergeant Colon looked down as the waters of the Ankh closed again, slowly.Those wizards. Always up to something.He watched for a while. After several
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)