Vincent van Gogh Le Moulin de la GaletteVincent van Gogh Farmhouse in ProvenceVincent van Gogh Wheat Field with Cypresses
count!'
'How many fingers am I holding up, then?'
Detritus squinted.
'Two?'
'OK. Now how many fingers am I holding up?'
'Two . . . and one more . . .'
'So two and one more is . . . ?'
Detritus looked panicky. This was calculus territory.
'Two and one more is three.'
'Two and one more is three.'
'Now howdoor behind him. Sergeant Colon looked up from his desk. He had a pleased expression.
'What's been happening, Fred?' many?''Two and two.''That's four.''Four-er.''Now how many?'Cuddy tried eight fingers.'A twofour.'Cuddy looked surprised. He'd expected 'many', or possibly 'lots'.'What's a twofour?'A two and a two and a two and a two.'Cuddy put his head on one side.'Hmm,' he said. 'OK. A twofour is what we call an eight.''Ate.''You know,' said Cuddy, subjecting the troll to a long critical stare, 'you might not be as stupid as you look. This is not hard. Let's think about this. I mean . . . I'll think about this, and you can join in when you know the words.' Vimes slammed the Watch House
Tuesday 28 April 2009
Bill Brauer Salsa Dancers
Bill Brauer Salsa DancersUnknown Artist Pink Floyd Back CatalogueVincent van Gogh Wheat Field with Rising SunVincent van Gogh Wheat Field 1889
'You may go.'
'You can't—'
'I said you may go, Captain Vimes!'
'Sir.'Normally.
Vimes seemed in a suitable emotional state. With any luck, the orders would have the desired effect . . .
There's a bar like it in every big city. It's where the coppers Vimes saluted. Then he turned about, and marched out of the room. He closed the door carefully, so that there was barely a click.The Patrician heard him thump the wall outside. Vimes wasn't aware, but there were a number of barely perceptible dents in the wall outside the Oblong Office, their depths corresponding to his emotional state at the time.By the sound of it, this one would need the services of a plasterer.Lord Vetinari permitted himself a smile, although there was no humour in it.The city operated. It was a self-regulating college of Guilds linked by the inexorable laws of mutual self-interest, and it worked. On average. By and large. Overall. Normally.The last thing you needed was some Watchman blundering around upsetting things, like a loose . . . a loose . . . a loose siege catapult.
'You may go.'
'You can't—'
'I said you may go, Captain Vimes!'
'Sir.'Normally.
Vimes seemed in a suitable emotional state. With any luck, the orders would have the desired effect . . .
There's a bar like it in every big city. It's where the coppers Vimes saluted. Then he turned about, and marched out of the room. He closed the door carefully, so that there was barely a click.The Patrician heard him thump the wall outside. Vimes wasn't aware, but there were a number of barely perceptible dents in the wall outside the Oblong Office, their depths corresponding to his emotional state at the time.By the sound of it, this one would need the services of a plasterer.Lord Vetinari permitted himself a smile, although there was no humour in it.The city operated. It was a self-regulating college of Guilds linked by the inexorable laws of mutual self-interest, and it worked. On average. By and large. Overall. Normally.The last thing you needed was some Watchman blundering around upsetting things, like a loose . . . a loose . . . a loose siege catapult.
Sunday 26 April 2009
George Bellows Dempsey and Firpo
George Bellows Dempsey and FirpoCaravaggio The Sacrifice of IsaacCaravaggio The Musicians
Oh, no!' Carrot laughed. 'That'd be silly, wouldn't it? No, if you see anything like that, you just ring your bell as hard as you like.'the armourer and told him to beat it out really well here and here, and no helmet in the world would cover all that mass of ash-blond hair but, it occurred to Carrot, Constable Angua wouldn't need any of that stuff really. People would be queuing up to get arrested.
'So what do we do now?' she said.
'Proceed back tp the Watch House, I suppose,' said Carrot. 'Sergeant Colon'll be reading out the evening report, I expect'What happens then?''Sergeant Colon and Nobby and the rest of 'em will come running along just as soon as they can.'Lance-Constable Angua scanned the hazy horizon.She smiled.Carrot blushed.Constable Angua had mastered saluting first go. She wouldn't have a full uniform yet, not until someone had taken a, well, let's face it, a breastplate along to old Remitt
Oh, no!' Carrot laughed. 'That'd be silly, wouldn't it? No, if you see anything like that, you just ring your bell as hard as you like.'the armourer and told him to beat it out really well here and here, and no helmet in the world would cover all that mass of ash-blond hair but, it occurred to Carrot, Constable Angua wouldn't need any of that stuff really. People would be queuing up to get arrested.
'So what do we do now?' she said.
'Proceed back tp the Watch House, I suppose,' said Carrot. 'Sergeant Colon'll be reading out the evening report, I expect'What happens then?''Sergeant Colon and Nobby and the rest of 'em will come running along just as soon as they can.'Lance-Constable Angua scanned the hazy horizon.She smiled.Carrot blushed.Constable Angua had mastered saluting first go. She wouldn't have a full uniform yet, not until someone had taken a, well, let's face it, a breastplate along to old Remitt
Friday 24 April 2009
Thomas Kinkade venice
Thomas Kinkade veniceThomas Kinkade HOMETOWN MEMORIESThomas Kinkade CHRISTMAS MEMORIESThomas Kinkade Boston
The Queen did not look surprised.
“And there’s only about a hundred of them,” she said. “What do you think, Esme Weatherwax? A valiant last stand? It’s so beautiful, isn’t it? I love the way humans think. They think like songs.”
“You get down off that horse!” Magrat shouted.
The Queen smiled at her.
Shawn felt it. Ridcully felt it. Ponder felt it. The glamour swept over them.
Elves feared iron, as
279
Terry Pratchett
human as you, could never win; the universe wasn’t built like that—
Hunters say that, just sometimes, an animal will step out of the bushes and stand there waiting forbut they didn’t need to go near it.You couldn’t fight elves, because you were so much more worthless than them. It was right that you should be so worthless. And they were so beautiful. And you weren’t. You were always the one metaphorically picked last for any team, even after the fat kid with one permanently blocked runny nostril; you were always the one who wasn’t told the rules until you’d lost, and then wasn’t told the new rules;you were the one who always knew that everything interest-ing was happening to other people. All those hot self-consuming feelings were rolled together. You couldn’t fightan elf. Someone as useless as you, as stolid as you,
The Queen did not look surprised.
“And there’s only about a hundred of them,” she said. “What do you think, Esme Weatherwax? A valiant last stand? It’s so beautiful, isn’t it? I love the way humans think. They think like songs.”
“You get down off that horse!” Magrat shouted.
The Queen smiled at her.
Shawn felt it. Ridcully felt it. Ponder felt it. The glamour swept over them.
Elves feared iron, as
279
Terry Pratchett
human as you, could never win; the universe wasn’t built like that—
Hunters say that, just sometimes, an animal will step out of the bushes and stand there waiting forbut they didn’t need to go near it.You couldn’t fight elves, because you were so much more worthless than them. It was right that you should be so worthless. And they were so beautiful. And you weren’t. You were always the one metaphorically picked last for any team, even after the fat kid with one permanently blocked runny nostril; you were always the one who wasn’t told the rules until you’d lost, and then wasn’t told the new rules;you were the one who always knew that everything interest-ing was happening to other people. All those hot self-consuming feelings were rolled together. You couldn’t fightan elf. Someone as useless as you, as stolid as you,
Wednesday 22 April 2009
Tamara de Lempicka The Musician in Blue
Tamara de Lempicka The Musician in BlueTamara de Lempicka Reclining NudeTamara de Lempicka Portrait of Madame
“No, thank you,” said Ponder Stibbons. “They give me wind.”
“Oook?”
“I like to listen to a man who likes to talk! Whoops!
Sawdust and treacle! Put that in your herring and smoke it!”
“I don’t of
any theatrical performance. Since a roasted peanut is a dangerous and
painful item when hurled with pinpoint accuracy, directors in Ankh-
Morpork had long ago taken the hint. This made some of the grand guig-
nol melodramas a little unusual, but it was considered that plays like “Thethink he wants one,” said Ponder.The curtain went up, or at least was pulled aside by Carter the baker.The Entertainment began.The Librarian watched in deepening gloom. It was amaz-ing. Normally he quite liked a badly acted play, provided enough confectionery stayed airborne, but these people weren’t even good at bad acting. Also, no one seemed to be on the point of throwing anything.*The Librarian, an ape of simple but firmly held tastes, considered anepisode with custard pies, buckets of whitewash, and especially that bitwhen someone takes someone else’s hat off, fills it with something oozy, and replaces it on the deadpan head while the orchestra plays “WHAH ... Whah . . . whah . . . whaaaa ...” to be an absolutely essential part
“No, thank you,” said Ponder Stibbons. “They give me wind.”
“Oook?”
“I like to listen to a man who likes to talk! Whoops!
Sawdust and treacle! Put that in your herring and smoke it!”
“I don’t of
any theatrical performance. Since a roasted peanut is a dangerous and
painful item when hurled with pinpoint accuracy, directors in Ankh-
Morpork had long ago taken the hint. This made some of the grand guig-
nol melodramas a little unusual, but it was considered that plays like “Thethink he wants one,” said Ponder.The curtain went up, or at least was pulled aside by Carter the baker.The Entertainment began.The Librarian watched in deepening gloom. It was amaz-ing. Normally he quite liked a badly acted play, provided enough confectionery stayed airborne, but these people weren’t even good at bad acting. Also, no one seemed to be on the point of throwing anything.*The Librarian, an ape of simple but firmly held tastes, considered anepisode with custard pies, buckets of whitewash, and especially that bitwhen someone takes someone else’s hat off, fills it with something oozy, and replaces it on the deadpan head while the orchestra plays “WHAH ... Whah . . . whah . . . whaaaa ...” to be an absolutely essential part
Tuesday 21 April 2009
Cao Yong COOL WATER
Cao Yong COOL WATERCao Yong CatalinaCao Yong CAFE BELLA
Oh, dear? Really?”
“After the wedding.”
“Oh.”
“. Wotcha, your majesties,” said Nanny.
“Blessing be upon this castle,” said Granny. “Magrat, there’s some doctorin’ needs doing. Here.”
Granny swept a candlestick and some crockery on to the floor with a dramatic motion and laid Diamanda on the table. In fact there were several acres of table totally devoid of any obstruction, but there’s no sense in making an entrance unless you’re prepared to make a mess.Trust me.”“Well, of course, if it makes you happy—“There was a commotion outside the double doors, which were flung back. Nanny Ogg and Granny Weatherwax stamped in, with Shawn trying to overtake them.“Oooaaww, Mum I’m supposed to go in first to say who it is!”“We’ll tell them who we are
Oh, dear? Really?”
“After the wedding.”
“Oh.”
“. Wotcha, your majesties,” said Nanny.
“Blessing be upon this castle,” said Granny. “Magrat, there’s some doctorin’ needs doing. Here.”
Granny swept a candlestick and some crockery on to the floor with a dramatic motion and laid Diamanda on the table. In fact there were several acres of table totally devoid of any obstruction, but there’s no sense in making an entrance unless you’re prepared to make a mess.Trust me.”“Well, of course, if it makes you happy—“There was a commotion outside the double doors, which were flung back. Nanny Ogg and Granny Weatherwax stamped in, with Shawn trying to overtake them.“Oooaaww, Mum I’m supposed to go in first to say who it is!”“We’ll tell them who we are
Monday 20 April 2009
Gustave Caillebotte Oarsmen
Gustave Caillebotte OarsmenLorenzo Lotto Mystic Marriage of St CatherineLorenzo Lotto Angel Annunciating
Verence said because he was King. What’s the point of having a king, they thought, if you have to rule yourself? He should do his job, even if he couldn’t spell properly. No one was asking him to thatch roofs or milk cows, were they?
l Verence and Magrat had a lot in common, really.
96
LQR06 fttfO LftQ-one agreed that, once the bushes were a bit higher than their current height of about one foot, it would indeed be a very famous maze and people would be able to get lost in it without having to shut their eyes and bend down.
Magrat drifted disconsolately along the gravel path, her huge wide dress leaving a smooth trail.
There was a scream from the other side of the hedge, but Magrat recognized the voice. There were certain tradi-tions in Lancre castle which she had learned./£6“I’m bored, Millie. Bored, bored, bored. I’m going for a walk in the gardens.”“Shall I fetch Shawn with the trumpet?”“Not if you want to live.”Not all the gardens had been dug up for agricultural experiments. There was, for example, the herb garden. To Magrat’s expert eye it was a pretty poor herb garden, since it just contained plants that flavoured food. And at that Mrs. Scorbic’s repertoire stopped short at mint and sage. There wasn’t a sprig of vervain or yarrow or Old Man’s Trousers anywhere in it.And there was the famous maze or, at least, it would be a famous maze. Verence had planted it because he’d heard that stately castles should have a maze and every
Verence said because he was King. What’s the point of having a king, they thought, if you have to rule yourself? He should do his job, even if he couldn’t spell properly. No one was asking him to thatch roofs or milk cows, were they?
l Verence and Magrat had a lot in common, really.
96
LQR06 fttfO LftQ-one agreed that, once the bushes were a bit higher than their current height of about one foot, it would indeed be a very famous maze and people would be able to get lost in it without having to shut their eyes and bend down.
Magrat drifted disconsolately along the gravel path, her huge wide dress leaving a smooth trail.
There was a scream from the other side of the hedge, but Magrat recognized the voice. There were certain tradi-tions in Lancre castle which she had learned./£6“I’m bored, Millie. Bored, bored, bored. I’m going for a walk in the gardens.”“Shall I fetch Shawn with the trumpet?”“Not if you want to live.”Not all the gardens had been dug up for agricultural experiments. There was, for example, the herb garden. To Magrat’s expert eye it was a pretty poor herb garden, since it just contained plants that flavoured food. And at that Mrs. Scorbic’s repertoire stopped short at mint and sage. There wasn’t a sprig of vervain or yarrow or Old Man’s Trousers anywhere in it.And there was the famous maze or, at least, it would be a famous maze. Verence had planted it because he’d heard that stately castles should have a maze and every
Friday 17 April 2009
Cao Yong Paradise
Cao Yong ParadiseCao Yong MY BALCONYCao Yong LILY POND
that there weren’t any roses. The walled garden had been stripped of its walks and arbors and was now waist high in green stalks with white flowers. Bees were furi-ously at work in the blossoms.
“Beans?” said Magrat.
“Yes! A won’t need to—“ Verence began.
It happened softly, almost like a kiss, as light as the touch of sunlight.
There was no wind, only a sudden heavy calmness that made the ears pop.
The stems bent and broke, and lay down in a circle, The bees roared, and fled.
The three witches arrived at the standing stone together.
They didn’t even bother with explanations. There were some things you know.
22specimen crop. I keep bringing the farmers up here to show them,” said Verence. He sighed. “They nod and mumble and smile but I’m afraid they just go off and do the same old things.”“I know,” said Magrat. “The same thing happened when I tried to give people lessons in natural childbirth.”Verence raised an eyebrow. Even to him the thought of Magrat giving lessons in childbirth to the fecund and teak-faced women of Lancre was slightly unreal.“Really? How had they been having babies before?” he said.“Oh, any old way,” said Magrat.They looked at the little buzzing bean field.“Of course, when you’re queen, you
that there weren’t any roses. The walled garden had been stripped of its walks and arbors and was now waist high in green stalks with white flowers. Bees were furi-ously at work in the blossoms.
“Beans?” said Magrat.
“Yes! A won’t need to—“ Verence began.
It happened softly, almost like a kiss, as light as the touch of sunlight.
There was no wind, only a sudden heavy calmness that made the ears pop.
The stems bent and broke, and lay down in a circle, The bees roared, and fled.
The three witches arrived at the standing stone together.
They didn’t even bother with explanations. There were some things you know.
22specimen crop. I keep bringing the farmers up here to show them,” said Verence. He sighed. “They nod and mumble and smile but I’m afraid they just go off and do the same old things.”“I know,” said Magrat. “The same thing happened when I tried to give people lessons in natural childbirth.”Verence raised an eyebrow. Even to him the thought of Magrat giving lessons in childbirth to the fecund and teak-faced women of Lancre was slightly unreal.“Really? How had they been having babies before?” he said.“Oh, any old way,” said Magrat.They looked at the little buzzing bean field.“Of course, when you’re queen, you
Thursday 16 April 2009
Titian Emperor Charles
Titian Emperor CharlesBartolome Esteban Murillo The Little Fruit SellerFilippino Lippi The Marriage of St Catherine
And Om pulled himself up the slope of a small hill. So it came to this, then. There was only one way to get to the Citadel now.
It was a million-to-one chance, with any luck.
And Brutha stood in front of the huge doors, oblivious to the crowd and the muttering guards. The Quisition could arrest anyone, of looking at the state of his own mind and thinking: perhaps the Great Prophets felt like this all the time.
The thousands inside the temple were looking around in confusion. The choirs of lesser Iams paused in their chant. Brutha walked on up the aisle, the only one with a purpose in the suddenly bewildered throng.
Vorbis was standing in the center of the temple, under the vault of the dome. Guards hurried toward Brutha, but Vorbis raised a hand in a gentle but very positive movement.but the guards weren't certain what happened to you if you apprehended an archbishop, especially one so recently favored by the Prophet.Just a sign, Brutha thought, in the loneliness of his head.The doors trembled, and swung slowly outwards.Brutha stepped forward. He wasn't fully conscious now, not in any coherent way as understood by normal people. Just one part of him was still capable
And Om pulled himself up the slope of a small hill. So it came to this, then. There was only one way to get to the Citadel now.
It was a million-to-one chance, with any luck.
And Brutha stood in front of the huge doors, oblivious to the crowd and the muttering guards. The Quisition could arrest anyone, of looking at the state of his own mind and thinking: perhaps the Great Prophets felt like this all the time.
The thousands inside the temple were looking around in confusion. The choirs of lesser Iams paused in their chant. Brutha walked on up the aisle, the only one with a purpose in the suddenly bewildered throng.
Vorbis was standing in the center of the temple, under the vault of the dome. Guards hurried toward Brutha, but Vorbis raised a hand in a gentle but very positive movement.but the guards weren't certain what happened to you if you apprehended an archbishop, especially one so recently favored by the Prophet.Just a sign, Brutha thought, in the loneliness of his head.The doors trembled, and swung slowly outwards.Brutha stepped forward. He wasn't fully conscious now, not in any coherent way as understood by normal people. Just one part of him was still capable
Wednesday 15 April 2009
Rene Magritte The Human Condition
Rene Magritte The Human ConditionRene Magritte The Great WarRene Magritte The Empire of LightRene Magritte The Big Family
Vorbis sat upright in the Tyrant's chair. It was approaching midnight.
A collection of Ephebian citizens, the Tyrant among them, had been herded in front of him.
He busied himself with some paperwork and then looked up with an air of mild surprise, as if he'd been completely unaware that fifty people were waiting in front of him at crossbow point.
"Ah," he said, and flashed a little smile.
"Well," he said, "I am pleased to say that we can now dispense with the peace treaty. Quite unnecessary. Why prattle of A copy of De Chelonian Mobile was flung on to the marble floor.
Brutha stood beside the throne. It was where he had been told to stand.
He'd looked into the pit and now it was him. Everything around him was happening in some distant circle of light, surrounded by darkness. Thoughts chased one another round his headpeace when there is no more war? Ephebe is now a diocese of Omnia. There will be no argument."He threw a paper on to the floor."There will be a fleet here in a few days. There will be no opposition, while we hold the palace. Your infernal mirror is even now being smashed."He steepled his fingers and looked at the assembled Ephebians."Who built it?"The Tyrant looked up."It was an Ephebian construction," he said."Ah," said Vorbis, "democracy. I forgot. Then who"-he signaled one of the guards, who handed him a sack-"wrote this?"
Vorbis sat upright in the Tyrant's chair. It was approaching midnight.
A collection of Ephebian citizens, the Tyrant among them, had been herded in front of him.
He busied himself with some paperwork and then looked up with an air of mild surprise, as if he'd been completely unaware that fifty people were waiting in front of him at crossbow point.
"Ah," he said, and flashed a little smile.
"Well," he said, "I am pleased to say that we can now dispense with the peace treaty. Quite unnecessary. Why prattle of A copy of De Chelonian Mobile was flung on to the marble floor.
Brutha stood beside the throne. It was where he had been told to stand.
He'd looked into the pit and now it was him. Everything around him was happening in some distant circle of light, surrounded by darkness. Thoughts chased one another round his headpeace when there is no more war? Ephebe is now a diocese of Omnia. There will be no argument."He threw a paper on to the floor."There will be a fleet here in a few days. There will be no opposition, while we hold the palace. Your infernal mirror is even now being smashed."He steepled his fingers and looked at the assembled Ephebians."Who built it?"The Tyrant looked up."It was an Ephebian construction," he said."Ah," said Vorbis, "democracy. I forgot. Then who"-he signaled one of the guards, who handed him a sack-"wrote this?"
Tuesday 14 April 2009
Wassily Kandinsky Dominant Curve
Wassily Kandinsky Dominant CurveWassily Kandinsky Several CirclesWassily Kandinsky Composition VIII
After a while some of the Citadel grooms arrived, with horses. Brutha was the subject of a few odd looks. He smiled at everyone. It seemed the best way.
He began to feel hungry, but didn't dare leave his post. He'd been told to be here. But after a while sounds from around the corner made him sidle a few yards to see what was going on.
The .
"The Prophet Abbys tells us (chap. XXV, verse 6): `Woe unto he who defiles his mouth with curses for his words will be as dust,' " said Brutha.
"Does he? Well, he can bugger off too," said the man, conversationally.
Brutha hesitated. Technically, of course, the man had bought himself vacant possession of a thousand courtyard here was U-shaped, around a wing of the Citadel buildings, and around the corner it looked as though another party was preparing to set out.Brutha knew about camels. There had been a couple in his grandmother's village. There seemed to be hundreds of them here, though, complaining like badly oiled pumps and smelling like a thousand damp carpets. Men in djeliba moved among them and occasionally hit them with sticks, which is the approved method of dealing with camels.Brutha wandered over to the nearest creature. A man was strapping water-bottles round its hump."Good morning, brother," said Brutha."Bugger off," said the man without looking round
After a while some of the Citadel grooms arrived, with horses. Brutha was the subject of a few odd looks. He smiled at everyone. It seemed the best way.
He began to feel hungry, but didn't dare leave his post. He'd been told to be here. But after a while sounds from around the corner made him sidle a few yards to see what was going on.
The .
"The Prophet Abbys tells us (chap. XXV, verse 6): `Woe unto he who defiles his mouth with curses for his words will be as dust,' " said Brutha.
"Does he? Well, he can bugger off too," said the man, conversationally.
Brutha hesitated. Technically, of course, the man had bought himself vacant possession of a thousand courtyard here was U-shaped, around a wing of the Citadel buildings, and around the corner it looked as though another party was preparing to set out.Brutha knew about camels. There had been a couple in his grandmother's village. There seemed to be hundreds of them here, though, complaining like badly oiled pumps and smelling like a thousand damp carpets. Men in djeliba moved among them and occasionally hit them with sticks, which is the approved method of dealing with camels.Brutha wandered over to the nearest creature. A man was strapping water-bottles round its hump."Good morning, brother," said Brutha."Bugger off," said the man without looking round
Monday 13 April 2009
Pablo Picasso Girl Before a Mirror
Pablo Picasso Girl Before a MirrorYvonne Jeanette Karlsen NudeTamara de Lempicka Dormeuse
some sherbet for afters?" said Dhblah hopefully. "Only one cent a glass, and that's cutting me own hand off."
"Who is this fool?" said Om.
"I'm not going to eat it," said Brutha hurriedly.
"Going to teach it to do tricks, then?" said Dhblah cheerfully. "Look through hoops, that kind of thing?"
"Get rid of him," said Om. "Smite him on the head, why don't you, and push the body behind the statue."
"Shut up," said Brutha, beginning to experience once again the problems that occur when you're talking to someone no one lopsided look. "Anyway, it'll be company on your journey."
"What journey?"
"To Ephebe. The secret mission to talk to the infidel."
Brutha knew he shouldn't be surprised. News went around the enclosed world of the Citadel like bushfire after a drought.
"Oh," he said. "That journey."else can hear."No need to be like that about it," said Dhblah."I wasn't talking to you," said Brutha."Talking to the tortoise, were you?" said Dhblah. Brutha looked guilty."My old mum used to talk to a gerbil," Dhblah went on. "Pets are always a great help in times of stress. And in times of starvation too, o'course.""This man is not honest," said Om. "I can read his mind.""Can you?""Can I what?" said Dhblah. He gave Brutha a
some sherbet for afters?" said Dhblah hopefully. "Only one cent a glass, and that's cutting me own hand off."
"Who is this fool?" said Om.
"I'm not going to eat it," said Brutha hurriedly.
"Going to teach it to do tricks, then?" said Dhblah cheerfully. "Look through hoops, that kind of thing?"
"Get rid of him," said Om. "Smite him on the head, why don't you, and push the body behind the statue."
"Shut up," said Brutha, beginning to experience once again the problems that occur when you're talking to someone no one lopsided look. "Anyway, it'll be company on your journey."
"What journey?"
"To Ephebe. The secret mission to talk to the infidel."
Brutha knew he shouldn't be surprised. News went around the enclosed world of the Citadel like bushfire after a drought.
"Oh," he said. "That journey."else can hear."No need to be like that about it," said Dhblah."I wasn't talking to you," said Brutha."Talking to the tortoise, were you?" said Dhblah. Brutha looked guilty."My old mum used to talk to a gerbil," Dhblah went on. "Pets are always a great help in times of stress. And in times of starvation too, o'course.""This man is not honest," said Om. "I can read his mind.""Can you?""Can I what?" said Dhblah. He gave Brutha a
Claude Monet Vetheuil In Summer
Claude Monet Vetheuil In SummerClaude Monet The LuncheonClaude Monet Sunflowers
When the sun rose the reflection of the doors of the central Temple blazed like fire. They were bronze, and a hundred feet tall. On them, in letters of gold set in lead, were the Commandments. There were five hundred and twelve , subdeacons, and priests. And novices like rats in a grain store. And craftsmen, and bull breeders, and torturers, and Vestigial Virgins . . .
No matter what your skills, there was a place for you in the Citadel.
And if your skill lay in asking the wrong kinds of questions or losing the righteous kind of wars, the place might just be the furnaces of purity, or the Quisition's pits of justice.
A place for everyone. And everyone in their place.
so far, and doubtless the next prophet would add his share.The sun's reflected glow shone down and across the tens of thousands of the strong-in-faith who labored below for the greater glory of the Great God Om.Probably no one did know how many of them there were. Some things have a way of going critical. Certainly there was only one Cenobiarch, the Superior Iam. That was certain. And six Archpriests. And thirty lesser Iams. And hundreds of bishops, deacons
When the sun rose the reflection of the doors of the central Temple blazed like fire. They were bronze, and a hundred feet tall. On them, in letters of gold set in lead, were the Commandments. There were five hundred and twelve , subdeacons, and priests. And novices like rats in a grain store. And craftsmen, and bull breeders, and torturers, and Vestigial Virgins . . .
No matter what your skills, there was a place for you in the Citadel.
And if your skill lay in asking the wrong kinds of questions or losing the righteous kind of wars, the place might just be the furnaces of purity, or the Quisition's pits of justice.
A place for everyone. And everyone in their place.
so far, and doubtless the next prophet would add his share.The sun's reflected glow shone down and across the tens of thousands of the strong-in-faith who labored below for the greater glory of the Great God Om.Probably no one did know how many of them there were. Some things have a way of going critical. Certainly there was only one Cenobiarch, the Superior Iam. That was certain. And six Archpriests. And thirty lesser Iams. And hundreds of bishops, deacons
Friday 10 April 2009
George Frederick Watts Orpheus and Eurydice
George Frederick Watts Orpheus and EurydiceGeorge Frederick Watts Orpheus and Eurydice detailUnknown Artist The SunFlowers
greatgrandmother gave it to him for this one. The family kept it in the vault as a sort of memorial to her. A truly stupid woman. It doesn't work, of course.'
'You tried it?'
'No, but he wouldn't have given it away if it was any good, would he?'
'Give it a rub,' said Conina. 'It can't do any harm.'
'I wouldn't,' warned Creosote.
Nijel held the lamp gingerly. It had a strangely sleek look, as if someone had set out to make a lamp that could go fast.gold medallion, shiny shorts and advanced running shoes with curly toes.
It said, 'I want to get this absolutely straight. Where am I?'
Conina recovered first.
'It's a beach,' she said.He rubbed it.The effects were curiously unimpressive. There was a half-hearted pop and a puff of wispy smoke near Nijel's feet. A line appeared in the beach several feet away from the smoke. It spread quickly to outline a square of sand, which vanished.A figure barrelled out of the beach, jerked to a stop, and groaned.It was wearing a turban, an expensive tan, a small
'Yah,' said the genie. 'What I mean was, which lamp? What world?'
'Don't you know?'
greatgrandmother gave it to him for this one. The family kept it in the vault as a sort of memorial to her. A truly stupid woman. It doesn't work, of course.'
'You tried it?'
'No, but he wouldn't have given it away if it was any good, would he?'
'Give it a rub,' said Conina. 'It can't do any harm.'
'I wouldn't,' warned Creosote.
Nijel held the lamp gingerly. It had a strangely sleek look, as if someone had set out to make a lamp that could go fast.gold medallion, shiny shorts and advanced running shoes with curly toes.
It said, 'I want to get this absolutely straight. Where am I?'
Conina recovered first.
'It's a beach,' she said.He rubbed it.The effects were curiously unimpressive. There was a half-hearted pop and a puff of wispy smoke near Nijel's feet. A line appeared in the beach several feet away from the smoke. It spread quickly to outline a square of sand, which vanished.A figure barrelled out of the beach, jerked to a stop, and groaned.It was wearing a turban, an expensive tan, a small
'Yah,' said the genie. 'What I mean was, which lamp? What world?'
'Don't you know?'
Wednesday 8 April 2009
Edward Hopper Summer Interior
Edward Hopper Summer InteriorEdward Hopper SailingEdward Hopper Ryder's House
world is going to end.
'What, again?'
I mean it, said the hat sulkily. The triumph of the Ice Giants, the Apocralypse, the Teatime of the Gods, the whole thing.
'Can we stop it
Rincewind nodded. That seemed reasonable.
'Look, just shove it in its box, and let's get going,' said the girl.
A bit more respect if you please, young lady,' said Rincewind haughtily. 'That is the symbol of ancient wizardry you happen to be addressing.'
'You carry it, then,' she said.?'The future is uncertain on that point.Rincewind's expression of determined terror faded slowly.'Is this a riddle?' he said.Perhaps it would be simpler if you just did what you're told and didn't try to understand things, said the hat. Young woman, you will put us back in our box. A great many people will shortly be looking for us.'Hey, hold on,' said Rincewind. 'I've seen you around here for years and you never talked before.'I didn't have anything that needed to be said.
world is going to end.
'What, again?'
I mean it, said the hat sulkily. The triumph of the Ice Giants, the Apocralypse, the Teatime of the Gods, the whole thing.
'Can we stop it
Rincewind nodded. That seemed reasonable.
'Look, just shove it in its box, and let's get going,' said the girl.
A bit more respect if you please, young lady,' said Rincewind haughtily. 'That is the symbol of ancient wizardry you happen to be addressing.'
'You carry it, then,' she said.?'The future is uncertain on that point.Rincewind's expression of determined terror faded slowly.'Is this a riddle?' he said.Perhaps it would be simpler if you just did what you're told and didn't try to understand things, said the hat. Young woman, you will put us back in our box. A great many people will shortly be looking for us.'Hey, hold on,' said Rincewind. 'I've seen you around here for years and you never talked before.'I didn't have anything that needed to be said.
Tuesday 7 April 2009
Winslow Homer Gloucester Harbor
Winslow Homer Gloucester HarborEdward Hopper Second Story SunlightEdward Hopper Route 6 Eastham
IT IS CAT-FLAVOURED? he added, his tone taking on a definite menace, or rather more menace than it had already.
‘Um, no. That’s our Supreme Assortment.’
The customer tossed it aside.
No.
The shopkeeper looked both ways and then pulled open a drawer under the counter, at the same time lowering her voice to a conspiratorial whisper. ‘Of course,’ she said, ‘for that very special occasion . . .’ It was quite a small box. It was also entirely black, except for the name of the contents in small white letters; cats, even in pink ribbons, wouldn’t be allowed within a mile of a box like this. To deliver a box of chocolates like this, dark ?’
The customer seemed to panic.
ELSE? SHOULD THERE BE ANYTHING ELSE? IS THERE SOMETHING ELSE? WHAT IS IT THAT SHOULD BE DONE? ‘I’m sorry, sir?’strangers drop from chairlifts and abseil down buildings. The dark stranger peered at the lettering.‘DARK ENCHANTMENTS,’ he said. I ?WKEIT?.‘For those intimate moments,’ said the lady.The customer appeared to consider the relevance of this.The shopkeeper beamed.‘Shall I wrap them up, then?’YES. WITH A RIBBON.‘And will there be anything else, sir
IT IS CAT-FLAVOURED? he added, his tone taking on a definite menace, or rather more menace than it had already.
‘Um, no. That’s our Supreme Assortment.’
The customer tossed it aside.
No.
The shopkeeper looked both ways and then pulled open a drawer under the counter, at the same time lowering her voice to a conspiratorial whisper. ‘Of course,’ she said, ‘for that very special occasion . . .’ It was quite a small box. It was also entirely black, except for the name of the contents in small white letters; cats, even in pink ribbons, wouldn’t be allowed within a mile of a box like this. To deliver a box of chocolates like this, dark ?’
The customer seemed to panic.
ELSE? SHOULD THERE BE ANYTHING ELSE? IS THERE SOMETHING ELSE? WHAT IS IT THAT SHOULD BE DONE? ‘I’m sorry, sir?’strangers drop from chairlifts and abseil down buildings. The dark stranger peered at the lettering.‘DARK ENCHANTMENTS,’ he said. I ?WKEIT?.‘For those intimate moments,’ said the lady.The customer appeared to consider the relevance of this.The shopkeeper beamed.‘Shall I wrap them up, then?’YES. WITH A RIBBON.‘And will there be anything else, sir
Monday 6 April 2009
Thomas Kinkade Elegant Evening at Biltmore
Thomas Kinkade Elegant Evening at BiltmoreThomas Kinkade DawsonThomas Kinkade Courage
third wave was already crunching and smashing its way over the top of them. Except that you couldn’t use the word “trying”. It suggested some sort of conscious effort, some sort of possibility that there might also be a state of ‘not’ shouted Ridcully above the noise. He tried to swat a Silly Bugger that was orbiting his hat.’There’s no telling what it might turn into!’
‘Bother!’ screamed the Dean.
‘It’s no good. We might as well be trying to hold back the sea,’ said the Senior Wrangler. ‘I vote we head back to the University and pick up some really tough spells.’ trying’. Something about the relentless movement, the way they crushed one another in their surge, suggested that the wire baskets had as much choice in the matter as water has about flowing downhill. ‘Yo!’ shouted the Dean. Raw magic smacked into the grinding tangle of metal. It rained wheels.‘Eat hot thaumaturgy, you m-,’ the Dean began.‘Don’t swear! Don’t swear!
third wave was already crunching and smashing its way over the top of them. Except that you couldn’t use the word “trying”. It suggested some sort of conscious effort, some sort of possibility that there might also be a state of ‘not’ shouted Ridcully above the noise. He tried to swat a Silly Bugger that was orbiting his hat.’There’s no telling what it might turn into!’
‘Bother!’ screamed the Dean.
‘It’s no good. We might as well be trying to hold back the sea,’ said the Senior Wrangler. ‘I vote we head back to the University and pick up some really tough spells.’ trying’. Something about the relentless movement, the way they crushed one another in their surge, suggested that the wire baskets had as much choice in the matter as water has about flowing downhill. ‘Yo!’ shouted the Dean. Raw magic smacked into the grinding tangle of metal. It rained wheels.‘Eat hot thaumaturgy, you m-,’ the Dean began.‘Don’t swear! Don’t swear!
Friday 3 April 2009
Ford Madox Brown Romeo and Juliet
Ford Madox Brown Romeo and JulietPierre Auguste Renoir La PromenadePierre Auguste Renoir Dance in the Country
One-Man-Bucket sounded shrill and petulant. what’s he going to do if I tell him, then? I could get into heap big trouble for that sort of thing.
‘Well, can you tell me if I guess right?’ said Windle. ye-ess. maybe.
‘You don’t have to say anythin’,’ said Mrs Cake. ‘Just knock twice for yes and once for no, like in the old days.’ oh, all right.
‘Go on, Mr into something with wheels on?’ twice for yes, was it?
‘Roight!’
KNOCK. KNOCK.
‘I thought so. I thought so ! I found one under my floor that tried to hatch where there wasn’t enough room!’ crowed Windle. Then he frowned. ‘But hatch into whatPoons,’ said Ludmilla. She had the kind of voice Windle wanted to stroke.He cleared his throat.‘I think,’ he began, ‘that is, I think they’re some sort of eggs. I thought . . . why breakfast? and then I thought ...eggs...’Knock.‘Oh. Well, perhaps it was a rather silly idea . . .’ sorry, was it once for yes or twice for yes ?‘ ‘voice !’ snapped the medium.KNOCK. KNOCK.‘Ah,’ breathed Windle. ‘And they hatch
One-Man-Bucket sounded shrill and petulant. what’s he going to do if I tell him, then? I could get into heap big trouble for that sort of thing.
‘Well, can you tell me if I guess right?’ said Windle. ye-ess. maybe.
‘You don’t have to say anythin’,’ said Mrs Cake. ‘Just knock twice for yes and once for no, like in the old days.’ oh, all right.
‘Go on, Mr into something with wheels on?’ twice for yes, was it?
‘Roight!’
KNOCK. KNOCK.
‘I thought so. I thought so ! I found one under my floor that tried to hatch where there wasn’t enough room!’ crowed Windle. Then he frowned. ‘But hatch into whatPoons,’ said Ludmilla. She had the kind of voice Windle wanted to stroke.He cleared his throat.‘I think,’ he began, ‘that is, I think they’re some sort of eggs. I thought . . . why breakfast? and then I thought ...eggs...’Knock.‘Oh. Well, perhaps it was a rather silly idea . . .’ sorry, was it once for yes or twice for yes ?‘ ‘voice !’ snapped the medium.KNOCK. KNOCK.‘Ah,’ breathed Windle. ‘And they hatch
Thursday 2 April 2009
Franz Marc Tiger
Franz Marc TigerFranz Marc StablesFranz Marc Foxes
she stepped aside and waited.
Bill Door lay in the darkness of the hayloft and waited. Below, he could hear the occasional horsey sounds of Binky - a soft movement, the champ of a jaw.
Bill Door. So sand in the top bulb. He put it back.
And then there was this “sleep”. He knew what it was. People did it for quite a lot of the time. They lay down and sleep happened. Presumably it served some purpose. He was watching out for it with interest. He would have to subject it to analysis.
Night drifted across the world, coolly pursued by a new day.
There was a stirring in the henhouse across the yard.now he had a name. Of course, he’d always had a name, but he’d been named for what he embodied, not for who he was. Bill Door. It had a good solid ring to it.Mr Bill Door. William Door, Esq. Billy D - no. Not Billy.Bill Door eased himself further into the hay. He reached into his robe and pulled out the golden timer. There was, quite perceptibly, less
she stepped aside and waited.
Bill Door lay in the darkness of the hayloft and waited. Below, he could hear the occasional horsey sounds of Binky - a soft movement, the champ of a jaw.
Bill Door. So sand in the top bulb. He put it back.
And then there was this “sleep”. He knew what it was. People did it for quite a lot of the time. They lay down and sleep happened. Presumably it served some purpose. He was watching out for it with interest. He would have to subject it to analysis.
Night drifted across the world, coolly pursued by a new day.
There was a stirring in the henhouse across the yard.now he had a name. Of course, he’d always had a name, but he’d been named for what he embodied, not for who he was. Bill Door. It had a good solid ring to it.Mr Bill Door. William Door, Esq. Billy D - no. Not Billy.Bill Door eased himself further into the hay. He reached into his robe and pulled out the golden timer. There was, quite perceptibly, less
Wednesday 1 April 2009
Andy Warhol Fiesta Pig
Andy Warhol Fiesta PigAndy Warhol dollar sign black and yellow on redAndy Warhol Diamond Dust Shoes Lilac Blue GreenAndy Warhol Daisy Double PinkAndy Warhol Buttons
‘You don’t mind, then?’
I HAVE A HORSE.
The old woman peered around the stranger. In the yard was the most impressive horse she’d ever seen. Her eyes narrowed. ‘And that’s your horse. is it?’
YES.
‘With all that silver on the harness and everything?’
YES.
‘And you want to work for sixpence a week?’
YES.
The old woman pursed her lips. She looked from the stranger to the horse to the dilapidation around the farm.
She She waited.
‘I expect you have a name, too,’ she prompted.
YES. THAT’S RIGHT.
She waited again.appeared to reach a decision, possibly on the lines that someone who owned no horses probably didn’t have much to fear from a horse thief. ‘You’re to sleep in the barn, understand?’ she said.SLEEP? YES. OF COURSE. YES, I WILL HAVE TO SLEEP.‘Couldn’t have you in the house anyway. It wouldn’t be right.’THE BARN WILL BE QUITE ADEQUATE, I ASSURE YOU.‘But you can come into the house for your meals.’THANK YOU.‘My name’s Miss Flitworth.’YES.
63
‘You don’t mind, then?’
I HAVE A HORSE.
The old woman peered around the stranger. In the yard was the most impressive horse she’d ever seen. Her eyes narrowed. ‘And that’s your horse. is it?’
YES.
‘With all that silver on the harness and everything?’
YES.
‘And you want to work for sixpence a week?’
YES.
The old woman pursed her lips. She looked from the stranger to the horse to the dilapidation around the farm.
She She waited.
‘I expect you have a name, too,’ she prompted.
YES. THAT’S RIGHT.
She waited again.appeared to reach a decision, possibly on the lines that someone who owned no horses probably didn’t have much to fear from a horse thief. ‘You’re to sleep in the barn, understand?’ she said.SLEEP? YES. OF COURSE. YES, I WILL HAVE TO SLEEP.‘Couldn’t have you in the house anyway. It wouldn’t be right.’THE BARN WILL BE QUITE ADEQUATE, I ASSURE YOU.‘But you can come into the house for your meals.’THANK YOU.‘My name’s Miss Flitworth.’YES.
63
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