Vincent van Gogh The Night Cafe in the Place Lamartine in Arles

Vincent van Gogh The Night Cafe in the Place Lamartine in ArlesVincent van Gogh The good Samaritan DelacroixVincent van Gogh A Novel ReaderLeonardo da Vinci The Virgin and Child With St Anne
Twoflower sat down heavily on his bed.
'You've got it wrong,' he said. 'Elves are noble and beautiful and wise and fair; I'm sure I read that somewhere.'
Swires and Rincewind's kneecap exchanged glances.
'I think you must be thinking about different elves,' the gnome said slowly. 'We've just got the other sort around here. .
'What shall we do?' said Twoflower.
'Panic?' said Rincewind hopefully. He always held that panic was the best means of survival; back in the olden days, his theory went, people faced with hungry sabre-toothed tigers could be divided very simply into those who panicked and those who stood there saying 'What a magnificent brute!' and 'HerNot that you could call them quick-tempered,' he added hastily. 'Not if you didn't want to take your teeth your hat, anyway.'There was the tiny, distinctive sound of a nougat door opening. At the same time, from the other side of the cottage, came the faintest of tinkles, like a rock smashing a barley sugar window as delicately as possible.'What was that?' said Twoflower.'Which one?' said Rincewind.There was the clonk of a heavy branch banging against the window sill. With a cry of 'Elves!' Swires scuttled across the floor to a mousehole and vanishede, pussy.'
'There's a cupboard,' said Twoflower, pointing to a narrow door that