Johannes Vermeer The ConcertJohannes Vermeer Girl Reading a Letter at an Open WindowGustave Courbet Plage de Normandie
belonged to Hammerhock.'
'Doubt it, sir.'
'Me too. Come on. Let's go out through the back door.'
Carrot squeezed through.
'Mind your head, sir.'
Vimes, almost on his knees, stopped and stared at the doorframe.
'Well, corporal,' he said eventually, 'we know it wasn't a troll that did it, don't we? Two reasons. One, a troll couldn't get through this Vimes straightened up carefully.
'I don't like this, Carrot,' he said. 'There's something bad underneath all this.'
Carrot looked down.
'I mean, there are hidden things happening,' said Vimes, patientldoor, it's dwarf sized.''What's the other reason, sir?'Vimes carefully pulled something off a splinter on the low door lintel.'The other reason, Carrot, is that trolls don't have hair.'The couple of strands that had been caught in the grain of the beam were red and long. Someone had left them there inadvertently. Someone tall. Taller than a dwarf, anyway.Vimes peered at them. They looked more like threads than hair. Fine red threads. Oh, well. A clue was a clue.He carefully folded them up in a scrap of paper borrowed from Carrot's notebook, and handed them to the corporal.'Here. Keep this safe.'They crawled out into the night. There was a narrow, plank walkway attached to the walls, and beyond that was the river.
Tuesday, April 28, 2009
Monday, April 27, 2009
John Constable Wivenhoe Park Essex
John Constable Wivenhoe Park EssexJohn Constable Weymouth BayJohn William Waterhouse Destiny 1900
brushed the dust off his hands and smiled at everyone. The trolls looked puzzled. In theory, Carrot was a thin film of grease on the . Not life.
Unsocial hours. Never being certain from one day to the next what the Law actually was, in this pragmatic city. No home life, to speak of. Bad food, eaten when you could; he'd even eaten some of Cut-Me-Own-Throat Dibbler's sausages-in-a-bun before now. It always seemed to be raining or baking hot. No friends, except for the rest of the squad, because they were the only people who lived in your world.street. But somehow it just didn't seem to be happening . . .Angua said, 'He just called a hundred trolls "good chaps". Some of them are just down off the mountains! Some of them have got lichen on them!''Smartest thing on a troll,' said Sergeant Colon.And then the world exploded. The Watch had left before Captain Vimes got back to Pseudopolis Yard. He plodded up the stairs to his office, and sat down in the sticky leather chair. He gazed blankly at the wall.He wanted to leave the Guard. Of course he did.It wasn't what you could call a way of life
brushed the dust off his hands and smiled at everyone. The trolls looked puzzled. In theory, Carrot was a thin film of grease on the . Not life.
Unsocial hours. Never being certain from one day to the next what the Law actually was, in this pragmatic city. No home life, to speak of. Bad food, eaten when you could; he'd even eaten some of Cut-Me-Own-Throat Dibbler's sausages-in-a-bun before now. It always seemed to be raining or baking hot. No friends, except for the rest of the squad, because they were the only people who lived in your world.street. But somehow it just didn't seem to be happening . . .Angua said, 'He just called a hundred trolls "good chaps". Some of them are just down off the mountains! Some of them have got lichen on them!''Smartest thing on a troll,' said Sergeant Colon.And then the world exploded. The Watch had left before Captain Vimes got back to Pseudopolis Yard. He plodded up the stairs to his office, and sat down in the sticky leather chair. He gazed blankly at the wall.He wanted to leave the Guard. Of course he did.It wasn't what you could call a way of life
Sunday, April 26, 2009
Wassily Kandinsky Composition VIII
Wassily Kandinsky Composition VIIIVincent van Gogh SunflowersVincent van Gogh ReaperEdmund Blair Leighton Off
Magrat reached up instinctively, removed the winged helmet, and patted her hair. Bits of twigs and fragments of heather had twisted themselves in it with comb-breaking complexity It never looked good for five minutes together at the best of times; now it was a bird’s nest.
“I think I’ll leave it,” she said.
Granny nodded approvingly
“That’s the way of it,” she said. “It’s not what you’ve got that matters, it’s how you’ve got it. Well, we’re just about ready, then.”
Nanny “I thought perhaps just some salad and quiche and some light—“ Magrat said, imploringly.
The cook’s whiskery chin stuck out firmly.leaned toward her and whispered.“What? Oh, yes. Where’s the groom?”“He’s a bit muzzy. Not sure what happened,” said Magrat.“Perfectly normal,” said Nanny, “after a stag night.”297Terry PratehettThere were difficulties to overcome:“We need a Best Man.”“Ook.”“Well, at least put some clothes on.” Mrs. Scorbic the cook folded her huge pink arms.“Can’t be done,” she said firmly.
Magrat reached up instinctively, removed the winged helmet, and patted her hair. Bits of twigs and fragments of heather had twisted themselves in it with comb-breaking complexity It never looked good for five minutes together at the best of times; now it was a bird’s nest.
“I think I’ll leave it,” she said.
Granny nodded approvingly
“That’s the way of it,” she said. “It’s not what you’ve got that matters, it’s how you’ve got it. Well, we’re just about ready, then.”
Nanny “I thought perhaps just some salad and quiche and some light—“ Magrat said, imploringly.
The cook’s whiskery chin stuck out firmly.leaned toward her and whispered.“What? Oh, yes. Where’s the groom?”“He’s a bit muzzy. Not sure what happened,” said Magrat.“Perfectly normal,” said Nanny, “after a stag night.”297Terry PratehettThere were difficulties to overcome:“We need a Best Man.”“Ook.”“Well, at least put some clothes on.” Mrs. Scorbic the cook folded her huge pink arms.“Can’t be done,” she said firmly.
Thursday, April 23, 2009
Mark Spain Crescendo I
Mark Spain Crescendo IMark Spain CordobaMark Spain Contemplation
Magrat calmed down. Of course it existed. Every castle had one. And of course this one was used. There was a trodden path through the dust to the rack a few feet away from the door, where a few suits of unraveling chain-mail hung on a rack, next to the Magrat followed him, in a daze.
The kings of Lancre had never thrown anything away. At least, they’d never thrown anything away if it was possible to kill someone with it.
There was armor for men. There was armor for horses. There was armor for fighting dogs. There was even armor for ravens, although King Gumt the Stupid’s plan for an aerial attack force had never really got off the ground. There were more pikes, and swords, cutlasses, rapiers, epees, broadswords, flails, momingstars, maces, clubs, and huge knobs with spikes. They pikes.Shawn probably came in here every day.It was the armory.Greebo hopped down from Magrat’s shoulders and wan-dered off down the cobwebbed avenues, in his endless search for anything small and squeaky.
Magrat calmed down. Of course it existed. Every castle had one. And of course this one was used. There was a trodden path through the dust to the rack a few feet away from the door, where a few suits of unraveling chain-mail hung on a rack, next to the Magrat followed him, in a daze.
The kings of Lancre had never thrown anything away. At least, they’d never thrown anything away if it was possible to kill someone with it.
There was armor for men. There was armor for horses. There was armor for fighting dogs. There was even armor for ravens, although King Gumt the Stupid’s plan for an aerial attack force had never really got off the ground. There were more pikes, and swords, cutlasses, rapiers, epees, broadswords, flails, momingstars, maces, clubs, and huge knobs with spikes. They pikes.Shawn probably came in here every day.It was the armory.Greebo hopped down from Magrat’s shoulders and wan-dered off down the cobwebbed avenues, in his endless search for anything small and squeaky.
Tuesday, April 21, 2009
Paul Cezanne Leda with Swan
Paul Cezanne Leda with SwanPaul Cezanne House and TreesPaul Cezanne A Modern OlympiaLaurie Maitland Autumn Song
Good idea,” said Weaver.
“Wasn’t it your idea?” said Jason.
“I thought you said it.”
“I thought you did.”
“Who cares who said it?” said Thatcher. “’S’a good idea.
Seems ... right.”
“What was that about the miffic quality?”
“What’s miffic?”
Terry Pratchett
“Something you’ve got to have,” said Weaver, theatrical expert. “Very important, your miffics.”
“Me mam said let it sink again, “but old Weezen over in Slice told me once he shot a hare in the leg one night and next day she passed him on the lane and said ‘Ouch’ and gave him a rigno one was to go—“ Jason began.“We shan’t be doing any dancing or anything,” said Carter. “I can see you don’t want people skulking around up here by ‘emselves, doin’ magic. But it can’t be wrong if everyone comes here. I mean, the king and everyone. Your mam, too. Hah, I’d like to see any girls with no drawers on get past her!”“I don’t think it’s just—“ Jason began.“And the other one’ll be there, too,” said Weaver.They considered Granny Weatherwax.“Cor, she frightens the life out of me, her,” said Thatcher, eventually. “The way she looks right through you. I wouldn’t say a word against her, mark you, a fine figure of a woman,” he said loudly, and then added rather more quietly, “but they do say she creeps around the place o’nights, as a hare or a bat or something. Changes her shape and all. Not that I believes a word of it,” he raised his voice, then ht ding across the back of his head.”
“My dad said,” said Weaver, “that one day he was lead-
ing our old cow to market and it took ill and fell down in
Good idea,” said Weaver.
“Wasn’t it your idea?” said Jason.
“I thought you said it.”
“I thought you did.”
“Who cares who said it?” said Thatcher. “’S’a good idea.
Seems ... right.”
“What was that about the miffic quality?”
“What’s miffic?”
Terry Pratchett
“Something you’ve got to have,” said Weaver, theatrical expert. “Very important, your miffics.”
“Me mam said let it sink again, “but old Weezen over in Slice told me once he shot a hare in the leg one night and next day she passed him on the lane and said ‘Ouch’ and gave him a rigno one was to go—“ Jason began.“We shan’t be doing any dancing or anything,” said Carter. “I can see you don’t want people skulking around up here by ‘emselves, doin’ magic. But it can’t be wrong if everyone comes here. I mean, the king and everyone. Your mam, too. Hah, I’d like to see any girls with no drawers on get past her!”“I don’t think it’s just—“ Jason began.“And the other one’ll be there, too,” said Weaver.They considered Granny Weatherwax.“Cor, she frightens the life out of me, her,” said Thatcher, eventually. “The way she looks right through you. I wouldn’t say a word against her, mark you, a fine figure of a woman,” he said loudly, and then added rather more quietly, “but they do say she creeps around the place o’nights, as a hare or a bat or something. Changes her shape and all. Not that I believes a word of it,” he raised his voice, then ht ding across the back of his head.”
“My dad said,” said Weaver, “that one day he was lead-
ing our old cow to market and it took ill and fell down in
Monday, April 20, 2009
Thomas Kinkade bloomsbury cafe
Thomas Kinkade bloomsbury cafeEdward Hopper The Martha McKeen of WellfleetEdward Hopper Rocks and SeaEdward Hopper Railroad Crossing
crabwise away from the fat girl, dragging one toe in the dust. She edged around in a rough circle about fif-teen feet across, still dragging her boot, until she backed into Perdita.
“Sorry. There. Done it.”
“That’s a magic circle?”
“Right. People can come to harm else. All kinds of magic zipping around the place when witches fight.”
“But you didn’t chant or anything.”
74
I.OR06 ftWQ ift0/£6
“No?”
“There has to be a chant, doesn’t there?”
“Dunno. Never done one.”
“Oh.”
“I could sing you a comic song if you likes,” said Nanny helpfully.
“Um, no. Um.” Perdita had never heard Nanny sing, but news gets around.
“I like your black lace hanky,” said Nanny, not a bit abashed. “Very good for not showing the bogies.”
Perdita stared at the circle as though hypnotized. “Um.
Shall we start, then?”
“Right.”
Nanny Ogg allowed to wander around in just a vest even if they were four years old. And the child had a permanently runny nose and ought to be provided with a handkerchief or, failing that, a cork.
Nanny Ogg, on the other hand, was instant putty in thescurried back to the bench and elbowed Granny in the ribs.“Wake up!”Granny opened an eye.“I weren’t asleep, I was just resting me eyes.”“All you’ve got to do is stare her down!”“At least she knows about the importance of the stare, then. Hah! Who does she think she is? I’ve been staring at people all my life!”“Yes, that’s what’s bothering me—aaahh . . . who’s Nona’s little boy, then?”The rest of the Ogg clan had arrived.Granny Weatherwax personally disliked young Pewsey. She disliked all small children, which is why she got on with them so well. In Pewsey’s case, she felt that no one should be
hands of any grandchild, even one as sticky as Pewsey
crabwise away from the fat girl, dragging one toe in the dust. She edged around in a rough circle about fif-teen feet across, still dragging her boot, until she backed into Perdita.
“Sorry. There. Done it.”
“That’s a magic circle?”
“Right. People can come to harm else. All kinds of magic zipping around the place when witches fight.”
“But you didn’t chant or anything.”
74
I.OR06 ftWQ ift0/£6
“No?”
“There has to be a chant, doesn’t there?”
“Dunno. Never done one.”
“Oh.”
“I could sing you a comic song if you likes,” said Nanny helpfully.
“Um, no. Um.” Perdita had never heard Nanny sing, but news gets around.
“I like your black lace hanky,” said Nanny, not a bit abashed. “Very good for not showing the bogies.”
Perdita stared at the circle as though hypnotized. “Um.
Shall we start, then?”
“Right.”
Nanny Ogg allowed to wander around in just a vest even if they were four years old. And the child had a permanently runny nose and ought to be provided with a handkerchief or, failing that, a cork.
Nanny Ogg, on the other hand, was instant putty in thescurried back to the bench and elbowed Granny in the ribs.“Wake up!”Granny opened an eye.“I weren’t asleep, I was just resting me eyes.”“All you’ve got to do is stare her down!”“At least she knows about the importance of the stare, then. Hah! Who does she think she is? I’ve been staring at people all my life!”“Yes, that’s what’s bothering me—aaahh . . . who’s Nona’s little boy, then?”The rest of the Ogg clan had arrived.Granny Weatherwax personally disliked young Pewsey. She disliked all small children, which is why she got on with them so well. In Pewsey’s case, she felt that no one should be
hands of any grandchild, even one as sticky as Pewsey
Friday, April 17, 2009
John William Waterhouse Circe offering the Cup to Ulysses
John William Waterhouse Circe offering the Cup to UlyssesJohn William Waterhouse BoreasJohn William Waterhouse Ariadne
place is at the bottom," said Borvorius.
"No. That won't work."
IV. Could We Please Get Back To The Matter Of Other Gods?
"Will you please excuse me a moment?" said Brutha, brightly. "I need to pray."
Even And Musclebound Posers In Curly Beards?
"Fine. Is that settled, then?"
VIII. They Won't Last Five Minutes! . . . what?
"And now I'd better go and talk to these men one more time."
His eye was caught by a movement among the dunes.
"Oh, no," he said. "The idiots . . .Argavisti raised no objection as Brutha walked off a little way up the beach. As St. Ungulant preached to any who would listen, there were plus points in being a madman. People hesitated to stop you, in case it made things worse."Yes?" said Brutha, under his breath.V. I Don't Seem To Recall Any Discussion About Other Gods Being Worshiped In Omnia?"Ah, but it'll work for you," said Brutha. "People will soon see that those other ones are no good at all, won't they?" He crossed his fingers behind his back.VI. This Is Religion, Boy. Not Comparison Bloody Shopping! You Shall Not Subject Your God To Market Forces!"I'm sorry. I can see that you would be worried about-”VII. Worried? Me? By A Bunch Of Primping Women
place is at the bottom," said Borvorius.
"No. That won't work."
IV. Could We Please Get Back To The Matter Of Other Gods?
"Will you please excuse me a moment?" said Brutha, brightly. "I need to pray."
Even And Musclebound Posers In Curly Beards?
"Fine. Is that settled, then?"
VIII. They Won't Last Five Minutes! . . . what?
"And now I'd better go and talk to these men one more time."
His eye was caught by a movement among the dunes.
"Oh, no," he said. "The idiots . . .Argavisti raised no objection as Brutha walked off a little way up the beach. As St. Ungulant preached to any who would listen, there were plus points in being a madman. People hesitated to stop you, in case it made things worse."Yes?" said Brutha, under his breath.V. I Don't Seem To Recall Any Discussion About Other Gods Being Worshiped In Omnia?"Ah, but it'll work for you," said Brutha. "People will soon see that those other ones are no good at all, won't they?" He crossed his fingers behind his back.VI. This Is Religion, Boy. Not Comparison Bloody Shopping! You Shall Not Subject Your God To Market Forces!"I'm sorry. I can see that you would be worried about-”VII. Worried? Me? By A Bunch Of Primping Women
Wednesday, April 15, 2009
Jean Auguste Dominique Ingres La Grande baigneuse
Jean Auguste Dominique Ingres La Grande baigneuseGuido Reni Archangel MichaelGuido Reni The Archangel Michael
memory faded, letting go of Brutha's vocal chords.
"That kind?" Brutha finished.
"It won't take any notice of us once it's fed," said Om.
"Yes?"
"They go to sleep."
"After feeding-?"
Brutha looked round at Vorbis, who was slumped against a rock.
"Feeding?" he repeated.
"It'll be a kindness," said Om.
"To the lion, yes! You want to use him as bait?"
"He's not going to survive the desert. Anyway, he's done much worse to thousands of people. He'll be dying for a good
"No! You can't do that to people just because they're helpless!"
"You know, I can't think of a better time?"
There was another growl from the rock pile. It sounded closer.
Brutha looked down desperately at the scattered bones. Among them, half-hidden by debris, was a sword. It was old, and not well-made, and scoured by sand. He picked it up gingerly by the blade.
"Other end," said Om.cause.""A good cause?""I like it."There was a growl, from somewhere in the stones. It wasn't loud, but it was a sound with sinews in it. Brutha backed away."We don't just throw people to the lions!""He does.""Yes. I don't.""All right, we'll get on top of a slab and when the lion starts on him you can brain it with a rock. He'll probably get away with an arm or a leg. He'll never miss it."
memory faded, letting go of Brutha's vocal chords.
"That kind?" Brutha finished.
"It won't take any notice of us once it's fed," said Om.
"Yes?"
"They go to sleep."
"After feeding-?"
Brutha looked round at Vorbis, who was slumped against a rock.
"Feeding?" he repeated.
"It'll be a kindness," said Om.
"To the lion, yes! You want to use him as bait?"
"He's not going to survive the desert. Anyway, he's done much worse to thousands of people. He'll be dying for a good
"No! You can't do that to people just because they're helpless!"
"You know, I can't think of a better time?"
There was another growl from the rock pile. It sounded closer.
Brutha looked down desperately at the scattered bones. Among them, half-hidden by debris, was a sword. It was old, and not well-made, and scoured by sand. He picked it up gingerly by the blade.
"Other end," said Om.cause.""A good cause?""I like it."There was a growl, from somewhere in the stones. It wasn't loud, but it was a sound with sinews in it. Brutha backed away."We don't just throw people to the lions!""He does.""Yes. I don't.""All right, we'll get on top of a slab and when the lion starts on him you can brain it with a rock. He'll probably get away with an arm or a leg. He'll never miss it."
Thomas Kinkade Beyond Summer Gate
Thomas Kinkade Beyond Summer GateThomas Kinkade Autumn SnowEdward Hopper The Lighthouse at Two Lights
back two paces, and left two paces, and turned threeand-a-half times, and wait one second, and up three steps, and right twenty paces, and turned around five-and-a-quarter times, and left fifteen paces, and forward seven paces, and right eighteen paces, and up seven steps, and diagonally forward, and pause two seconds, right four paces, and down a slope that went down a meter every ten paces for thirty paces, and then turned around seven-and-a-half times, and forward six paces . . .
. . . he wondered"I trust you will excuse this minor inconvenience," said the skinny man. "My name is Aristocrates. I am secretary to the Tyrant. Please ask your men to put down their weapons."
Vorbis drew himself up to his full height. He was a head taller than the Ephebian. Pale though his complexion normally was, it had gone paler.
"We are entitled to retain our arms!" he said. "We are an emissary to a what good it was supposed to do.The blindfold was removed in an open courtyard, made of some white stone that turned the sunlight into a glare. Brutha blinked.Bowmen lined the yard. Their arrows were pointing downwards, but their manner suggested that pointing horizontally could happen any minute.Another bald man was waiting for them. Ephebe seemed to have an unlimited supply of skinny bald men wearing sheets. This one smiled, with his mouth alone.No one likes us much, Brutha thought.
back two paces, and left two paces, and turned threeand-a-half times, and wait one second, and up three steps, and right twenty paces, and turned around five-and-a-quarter times, and left fifteen paces, and forward seven paces, and right eighteen paces, and up seven steps, and diagonally forward, and pause two seconds, right four paces, and down a slope that went down a meter every ten paces for thirty paces, and then turned around seven-and-a-half times, and forward six paces . . .
. . . he wondered"I trust you will excuse this minor inconvenience," said the skinny man. "My name is Aristocrates. I am secretary to the Tyrant. Please ask your men to put down their weapons."
Vorbis drew himself up to his full height. He was a head taller than the Ephebian. Pale though his complexion normally was, it had gone paler.
"We are entitled to retain our arms!" he said. "We are an emissary to a what good it was supposed to do.The blindfold was removed in an open courtyard, made of some white stone that turned the sunlight into a glare. Brutha blinked.Bowmen lined the yard. Their arrows were pointing downwards, but their manner suggested that pointing horizontally could happen any minute.Another bald man was waiting for them. Ephebe seemed to have an unlimited supply of skinny bald men wearing sheets. This one smiled, with his mouth alone.No one likes us much, Brutha thought.
Monday, April 13, 2009
John William Waterhouse Waterhouse Narcissus
John William Waterhouse Waterhouse NarcissusJohn William Waterhouse The Lady of ShalottJohn William Waterhouse waterhouse Ophelia
young men recently Called to the Church. I daresay you heard the voice of the Great God when you were Called, didn't you? Mmm?"
Metaphor was lost on Brutha. He remembered hearing the voice of his grandmother. He hadn't been Called so much as said Brutha dutifully.
"Your hand to wither and drop off!" screamed the voice in his head.
"There's very good eating on one of these, you know," said the master of novices. He saw the expression on Brutha's face.
"Look at it like this," he said. "Would the Great God Om"-holy horns-"ever manifest Himself Sent. But he nodded anyway."And in your . . . enthusiasm, it's only natural that you should think you hear the Great God talking to you," Nhumrod went on.The tortoise bounced up and down."Smite you with thunderbolts!" it screamed."I find healthy exercise is the thing," said Nhumrod. "And plenty of cold water.""Writhe on the spikes of damnation!"Nhumrod reached down and picked up the tortoise, turning it over. Its legs waggled angrily."How did it get here, mmm?""I don't know, Brother Nhumrod,"
young men recently Called to the Church. I daresay you heard the voice of the Great God when you were Called, didn't you? Mmm?"
Metaphor was lost on Brutha. He remembered hearing the voice of his grandmother. He hadn't been Called so much as said Brutha dutifully.
"Your hand to wither and drop off!" screamed the voice in his head.
"There's very good eating on one of these, you know," said the master of novices. He saw the expression on Brutha's face.
"Look at it like this," he said. "Would the Great God Om"-holy horns-"ever manifest Himself Sent. But he nodded anyway."And in your . . . enthusiasm, it's only natural that you should think you hear the Great God talking to you," Nhumrod went on.The tortoise bounced up and down."Smite you with thunderbolts!" it screamed."I find healthy exercise is the thing," said Nhumrod. "And plenty of cold water.""Writhe on the spikes of damnation!"Nhumrod reached down and picked up the tortoise, turning it over. Its legs waggled angrily."How did it get here, mmm?""I don't know, Brother Nhumrod,"
Pino remember when
Pino remember whenPablo Picasso Three WomenPablo Picasso Seated Bather
from the novitiates' dormitory.
The Brutha "Get up, boy," he said, slightly more kindly.
Brutha got to his feet.
He was, as Nhumrod had complained before, too old to be a proper novice. About ten years too old. Give me a boy up to the age of seven, Nhumrod had always said.boy was flat on his face in front of a statue of Om in His manifestation as a thunderbolt, shaking and gabbling fragments of prayer.There was something creepy about that boy, Nhumrod thought. It was the way he looked at you when you were talking, as if he was listening.He wandered out and prodded the prone youth with the end of his cane."Get up, boy! What do you think you're doing in the dormitory in the middle of the day? Mmm?"Brutha managed to spin around while still flat on the floor and grasped the priest's ankles."Voice! A voice! It spoke to me!" he wailed.Nhumrod breathed out. Ah. This was familiar ground. Voices were right up Nhumrod's cloister. He heard them all the time.
from the novitiates' dormitory.
The Brutha "Get up, boy," he said, slightly more kindly.
Brutha got to his feet.
He was, as Nhumrod had complained before, too old to be a proper novice. About ten years too old. Give me a boy up to the age of seven, Nhumrod had always said.boy was flat on his face in front of a statue of Om in His manifestation as a thunderbolt, shaking and gabbling fragments of prayer.There was something creepy about that boy, Nhumrod thought. It was the way he looked at you when you were talking, as if he was listening.He wandered out and prodded the prone youth with the end of his cane."Get up, boy! What do you think you're doing in the dormitory in the middle of the day? Mmm?"Brutha managed to spin around while still flat on the floor and grasped the priest's ankles."Voice! A voice! It spoke to me!" he wailed.Nhumrod breathed out. Ah. This was familiar ground. Voices were right up Nhumrod's cloister. He heard them all the time.
Friday, April 10, 2009
Joaquin Sorolla y Bastida Stemming Raisins Javea
Joaquin Sorolla y Bastida Stemming Raisins JaveaJoaquin Sorolla y Bastida Sewing the SailJoaquin Sorolla y Bastida Ninos en el Mar
There was a long, thick pause caused by a lot of people listening very hard. Eventually, from the top of the tower, a realised that he could move his limbs himself. The hat had temporarily lost interest in them. He glanced sideways at Conina. In instant, unspoken agreement they each grasped one of Nijel's arms and turned and ran, and didn't stop until they'd put several walls between them and the tower. Rincewind ran expecting something to hit him in the back of the neck. Possibly the world.
All three landed in the rubble and lay there panting.
'You needn't have done that,' muttered Nijel. 'I was just getting ready to really give him a seeing-to. How can I ever-’voice called out uncertainly, 'Whereabouts in the Lore?''I embody the Lore.'There was a distant whispering and then the same voice called out, 'The Lore is dead. Sourcery is above the Lo-’The sentence ended in a scream because Abrim raised his left hand and sent a thin beam of green light in the precise direction of the speaker.It was at about this moment that Rincewind
There was a long, thick pause caused by a lot of people listening very hard. Eventually, from the top of the tower, a realised that he could move his limbs himself. The hat had temporarily lost interest in them. He glanced sideways at Conina. In instant, unspoken agreement they each grasped one of Nijel's arms and turned and ran, and didn't stop until they'd put several walls between them and the tower. Rincewind ran expecting something to hit him in the back of the neck. Possibly the world.
All three landed in the rubble and lay there panting.
'You needn't have done that,' muttered Nijel. 'I was just getting ready to really give him a seeing-to. How can I ever-’voice called out uncertainly, 'Whereabouts in the Lore?''I embody the Lore.'There was a distant whispering and then the same voice called out, 'The Lore is dead. Sourcery is above the Lo-’The sentence ended in a scream because Abrim raised his left hand and sent a thin beam of green light in the precise direction of the speaker.It was at about this moment that Rincewind
Wednesday, April 8, 2009
Unknown Artist Aeneas Carrying Anchises by Carl van Loo
Unknown Artist Aeneas Carrying Anchises by Carl van LooPablo Picasso BULLFIGHT DEATH OF THE TOREADOR La corridaAlbert Bierstadt Quiet Pond
'Are you all right?' said Conina, anxiously.
Rincewind swivelled his eyes around the cluttered deck.
'Not . He began to cheer up a bit.
The captain gave them both a hearty nod and hurried off to shout orders connected with sails and ropes and things. Conina sat down on the Luggage, which didn't seem to object.
'He said he's so grateful he'll take us all the way to Al Khali,’ she said.
'I thought that's what we arranged anyway,' said Rincewind. 'I saw you give him money, and everything.'
'Yes, but he was planning to overpower us and sell me as a slave when necessarily,' he said cautiously. There didn't seem to be any black-clad slavers around, at least vertically. There were a good many crew members, all of them maintaining a respectful distance from Conina. Only the captain stood reasonably close, an inane grin on his face.'They left,' said Conina. 'Took what they could and left.''They bastards,' said the captain, 'but they paddle pretty fast!' Conina winced as he gave her a ringing slap on the back. 'She fight real good for a lady,' he added. 'Yes!'Rincewind got unsteadily to his feet. The boat was scudding along cheerfully towards a distant smear on the horizon that had to be hubward Klatch. He was totally unharmed
'Are you all right?' said Conina, anxiously.
Rincewind swivelled his eyes around the cluttered deck.
'Not . He began to cheer up a bit.
The captain gave them both a hearty nod and hurried off to shout orders connected with sails and ropes and things. Conina sat down on the Luggage, which didn't seem to object.
'He said he's so grateful he'll take us all the way to Al Khali,’ she said.
'I thought that's what we arranged anyway,' said Rincewind. 'I saw you give him money, and everything.'
'Yes, but he was planning to overpower us and sell me as a slave when necessarily,' he said cautiously. There didn't seem to be any black-clad slavers around, at least vertically. There were a good many crew members, all of them maintaining a respectful distance from Conina. Only the captain stood reasonably close, an inane grin on his face.'They left,' said Conina. 'Took what they could and left.''They bastards,' said the captain, 'but they paddle pretty fast!' Conina winced as he gave her a ringing slap on the back. 'She fight real good for a lady,' he added. 'Yes!'Rincewind got unsteadily to his feet. The boat was scudding along cheerfully towards a distant smear on the horizon that had to be hubward Klatch. He was totally unharmed
Tom Thomson Jack Pine
Tom Thomson Jack PineRodney White Nothing to DreamSung Kim Point
and was just getting into its stride. It takes more than a bit of magic and someone being blown to smoke in front of him to put a wizard off his food.
For some to foresee the next bit of the exchange. 'You can't be certain of that,' he said, after a while.
'My dear Spelter, you blush when you inadvertently tell the unexplained reason Spelter and Carding were the last to leave. They sat at either end of the long table, watching each other like cats. Cats can sit at either end of a lane and watch each other for hours, performing the kind of mental manoeuvring that would make a grand master appear impulsive by comparison, but cats have got nothing on wizards. Neither was prepared to make a move until he had run the entire forthcoming conversation through his mind to see if it left him a move ahead.Spelter weakened first.'All wizards are brothers,' he said. 'We should trust one another. I have information.''I know,' said Carding. 'You know who the boy is.'Spelter's lips moved soundlessly as he tried
and was just getting into its stride. It takes more than a bit of magic and someone being blown to smoke in front of him to put a wizard off his food.
For some to foresee the next bit of the exchange. 'You can't be certain of that,' he said, after a while.
'My dear Spelter, you blush when you inadvertently tell the unexplained reason Spelter and Carding were the last to leave. They sat at either end of the long table, watching each other like cats. Cats can sit at either end of a lane and watch each other for hours, performing the kind of mental manoeuvring that would make a grand master appear impulsive by comparison, but cats have got nothing on wizards. Neither was prepared to make a move until he had run the entire forthcoming conversation through his mind to see if it left him a move ahead.Spelter weakened first.'All wizards are brothers,' he said. 'We should trust one another. I have information.''I know,' said Carding. 'You know who the boy is.'Spelter's lips moved soundlessly as he tried
Tuesday, April 7, 2009
Jean Auguste Dominique Ingres La Grande baigneuse
Jean Auguste Dominique Ingres La Grande baigneuseGuido Reni Archangel MichaelGuido Reni The Archangel Michael
Bursar moaning about the cost of exterminating all the curse-words, which had somehow survived the recent changes and had taken up residence in the darkness of the roof. He could even, if he strained his perfect hearing, hear the whoops of Schleppel in the distant cellars. They didn’t need him. At last. The world didn’t need Windle Poons.
He got up with some pine-effect wallpaper.
Windle shut the door behind him and leaned against the thick, cool wall.
Oh, yes. There was one other thing.
‘Are you there, One-Man-Bucket?’ he said softly. how did you know?
‘You’re generally around.’ heh heh, you’ve caused some real trouble there! you know what’s going to happen next full moon ?quietly and lurched to the door.‘I’m just going out,’ he said. ‘I may be some time.’Ridcully gave him a half-hearted nod, and concentrated on what Arthur Hall could be entirely transformed
Bursar moaning about the cost of exterminating all the curse-words, which had somehow survived the recent changes and had taken up residence in the darkness of the roof. He could even, if he strained his perfect hearing, hear the whoops of Schleppel in the distant cellars. They didn’t need him. At last. The world didn’t need Windle Poons.
He got up with some pine-effect wallpaper.
Windle shut the door behind him and leaned against the thick, cool wall.
Oh, yes. There was one other thing.
‘Are you there, One-Man-Bucket?’ he said softly. how did you know?
‘You’re generally around.’ heh heh, you’ve caused some real trouble there! you know what’s going to happen next full moon ?quietly and lurched to the door.‘I’m just going out,’ he said. ‘I may be some time.’Ridcully gave him a half-hearted nod, and concentrated on what Arthur Hall could be entirely transformed
Monday, April 6, 2009
Diego Rivera Night of the Rich
Diego Rivera Night of the RichLeroy Neiman FemlinUnknown Artist Abstract Autumn by Dougall
went right over his paws, look!’
‘And he’s probably lost a couple of teeth,’ said Windle. He helped the Librarian up. There was a red glow in the ape’s eyes. It had tried to steal his books.
This was , Librarian . . . you were about to help us, I think.’
‘Poor brave dog,’ said Ludmilla.
Lupine raised a paw pathetically, and whined.
Burdened by the screaming form of the Bursar, the other wire basket couldn’t probably the best proof any wizard could require that the trolleys were brainless.He reached down and wrenched the wheels off the trolley.‘Ole,’ said Windle.‘Oook?’‘No, Not “with milk”,’ said Windle.Lupine was having his head cradled in Ludmilla’s lap. He had lost a tooth, and his fur was a mess. He opened one eye and fixed Windle with a conspiratorial yellow stare while ?ubis? ears were stroked. There’s a lucky dog, thought Windle, who’s going to push his luck and hold up a paw and whine.‘Right,’ said Windle. ‘Now
went right over his paws, look!’
‘And he’s probably lost a couple of teeth,’ said Windle. He helped the Librarian up. There was a red glow in the ape’s eyes. It had tried to steal his books.
This was , Librarian . . . you were about to help us, I think.’
‘Poor brave dog,’ said Ludmilla.
Lupine raised a paw pathetically, and whined.
Burdened by the screaming form of the Bursar, the other wire basket couldn’t probably the best proof any wizard could require that the trolleys were brainless.He reached down and wrenched the wheels off the trolley.‘Ole,’ said Windle.‘Oook?’‘No, Not “with milk”,’ said Windle.Lupine was having his head cradled in Ludmilla’s lap. He had lost a tooth, and his fur was a mess. He opened one eye and fixed Windle with a conspiratorial yellow stare while ?ubis? ears were stroked. There’s a lucky dog, thought Windle, who’s going to push his luck and hold up a paw and whine.‘Right,’ said Windle. ‘Now
Thursday, April 2, 2009
Thomas Kinkade Seaside Village
Thomas Kinkade Seaside VillageThomas Kinkade Bridge of HopeEdward Hopper Summertime
already smouldering.
Bill Door watched the flames.
He reached into his pocket and pulled out the golden timer. The firelight glowed redly on the glass. He put it away of the flames. The future flowed into the past, and there was a lot more past than there was future, but he was struck by the fact that what it flowed through all the time was now.
He replaced it carefully.
Death knew that to tinker with the fate of one individual could destroy the whole world. He knew this. The knowledge was built into him. To Bill Door, he realised, it was so much horse elbowsagain.Part of the roof fell in.SQUEAK.Bill Door looked down. A small robed figure marched between his legs and strutted into the flaming doorway.Someone was yelling something about barrels of brandy.Bill Door reached back into his pocket and took out thetimer again. Its hissing drowned out the roar
already smouldering.
Bill Door watched the flames.
He reached into his pocket and pulled out the golden timer. The firelight glowed redly on the glass. He put it away of the flames. The future flowed into the past, and there was a lot more past than there was future, but he was struck by the fact that what it flowed through all the time was now.
He replaced it carefully.
Death knew that to tinker with the fate of one individual could destroy the whole world. He knew this. The knowledge was built into him. To Bill Door, he realised, it was so much horse elbowsagain.Part of the roof fell in.SQUEAK.Bill Door looked down. A small robed figure marched between his legs and strutted into the flaming doorway.Someone was yelling something about barrels of brandy.Bill Door reached back into his pocket and took out thetimer again. Its hissing drowned out the roar
Thomas Cole Kaaterskill Falls
Thomas Cole Kaaterskill FallsClaude Monet Vetheuil In SummerClaude Monet The Luncheon
Sometimes he brings a guitar along and makes us sing songs like “Streets of Ankh-Morpork” and “We Shall Overcome”. * It’s terrible.’ ‘Can’t sing, eh?’ said Windle.
‘Sing? ‘And Brother Ixolite is probably the only banshee in
_
l A song which, in various languages, is common on every known world in the multiverse. It is always sung by the same people, viz., the people who, when they grow up, will be the people who the next generation sing “We Shall Overcome” at.Never mind sing. Have you ever seen a zombie try to play a guitar? It’s helping him find his fingers afterwards that’s so embarrassing.’ Lupine sighed. ‘By the way, Sister Drull is a ghoul. If she offers you any of her meat patties, don’t accept.’Windle remembered a vague, shy old lady in a shapeless grey dress.‘Oh, dear,’ he said.’You mean she makes them out of human flesh?’‘What? Oh. No. She just can’t cook very well.’‘Oh.’
Sometimes he brings a guitar along and makes us sing songs like “Streets of Ankh-Morpork” and “We Shall Overcome”. * It’s terrible.’ ‘Can’t sing, eh?’ said Windle.
‘Sing? ‘And Brother Ixolite is probably the only banshee in
_
l A song which, in various languages, is common on every known world in the multiverse. It is always sung by the same people, viz., the people who, when they grow up, will be the people who the next generation sing “We Shall Overcome” at.Never mind sing. Have you ever seen a zombie try to play a guitar? It’s helping him find his fingers afterwards that’s so embarrassing.’ Lupine sighed. ‘By the way, Sister Drull is a ghoul. If she offers you any of her meat patties, don’t accept.’Windle remembered a vague, shy old lady in a shapeless grey dress.‘Oh, dear,’ he said.’You mean she makes them out of human flesh?’‘What? Oh. No. She just can’t cook very well.’‘Oh.’
Wednesday, April 1, 2009
Salvador Dali The Transparent Simulacrum of the Feigned Image
Salvador Dali The Transparent Simulacrum of the Feigned ImageSalvador Dali The Disintegration of the Persistence of MemorySalvador Dali The CrucifixionMark Rothko Orange and YellowWassily Kandinsky Red Oval
been a fool to think otherwise. He turned and, hardly bothering to keep his own heart beating, went back to the University.
Windle trudged across the quad to the Great Hall.
The Archchancellor would know what to do
‘There he is!’
‘It’s him!’
‘Get him!’
Windle’s trained thought ran over a cliff. He looked around at five red, worried, and above all familiar faces.
‘Oh, hallo, Dean,’ he said, unhappily.’And is that the Senior Wrangler? Oh,
and the ‘Grab his leg!’
‘Grab his other leg!’
‘Have you grabbed everything?’ roared the Archchancellor.
The wizards nodded.
Mustrum Ridcully reached into the massive recesses of his robe.Archchancellor, this is -‘ ‘Grab his arm!’‘Don’t look at his eyes!’‘Grab his other arm!’‘This is for your own good, Windle!’‘It’s not Windle! It’s a creature of the Night!’‘I assure you -‘‘Have you got his legs?’
‘Right, fiend in human shape,’ he growled, what d’you think of this, then?
been a fool to think otherwise. He turned and, hardly bothering to keep his own heart beating, went back to the University.
Windle trudged across the quad to the Great Hall.
The Archchancellor would know what to do
‘There he is!’
‘It’s him!’
‘Get him!’
Windle’s trained thought ran over a cliff. He looked around at five red, worried, and above all familiar faces.
‘Oh, hallo, Dean,’ he said, unhappily.’And is that the Senior Wrangler? Oh,
and the ‘Grab his leg!’
‘Grab his other leg!’
‘Have you grabbed everything?’ roared the Archchancellor.
The wizards nodded.
Mustrum Ridcully reached into the massive recesses of his robe.Archchancellor, this is -‘ ‘Grab his arm!’‘Don’t look at his eyes!’‘Grab his other arm!’‘This is for your own good, Windle!’‘It’s not Windle! It’s a creature of the Night!’‘I assure you -‘‘Have you got his legs?’
‘Right, fiend in human shape,’ he growled, what d’you think of this, then?
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