Jack Vettriano All Systems GoJack Vettriano After The Thrill Is GoneJack Vettriano After Midnight
Chrysoprase don't like being kept waiting.'
'I know, it–’head. It had a twang.
Needing to drink.
Needing to buy Band With Rocks In shirts . . .
Dibbler's face, very slowly, rearranged itself into a grin.
'A free festival,' he said. 'Right! It's our public duty. Music should be free. And sausages in a bun should be a dollar each, mustard extra. Maybe a dollar‑fifty. And that's cutting my own throat.'
In the wings, the noise of the audience was a solid wall of sound.'He gets sad if he's kept waiting–’'All right!' shouted Dibbler. 'Free! And that's cutting my own throat. You do know that, don't you?'Buddy played a chord. It seemed to leave little lights in the air.'Let's go,' he said softly.‘I know this city,' Dibbler mumbled, as The Band With Rocks In hurried towards the vibrating stage. 'Tell people something's free and you'll get thousands of them turning up–’Needing to eat, said a voice in his
Thursday, May 14, 2009
Tuesday, May 12, 2009
Jack Vettriano Zara Philips by Rankin
Jack Vettriano Zara Philips by RankinJack Vettriano You Can't Come To This Party!Jack Vettriano Yesterday's Dreams
doors opened, and a large oddly shaped flat box came out, hesitantly. It advanced in a curious way ‑ a few steps forward, a couple of steps back. And it was also talking to itself.
Detritus looked down. He could see . . . he paused . . . at least seven legs of various sizes, only four of which had feet.
He shambled across to the box and banged on the side.
'Hello, hello, piano.
Detritus scratched his head. This seemed to cover it.
'Well . . . all right,' he said.
He watched the piano jerk and wobble down the marble steps and round the corner.
It carried on talking to itself:
'How long have we got, d'you think?' hello, what is all this . . . then?' he said, concentrating to get the sentence right.The box stopped.Then it said, 'We're a piano.'Detritus gave this due consideration. He wasn't sure what a piano was.'A piano move about, does it?' he said.'It's . . . we've got legs,' said the piano.Detritus conceded the point.'But it are the middle of the night,' he said.'Even pianos have to have time off,' said the
doors opened, and a large oddly shaped flat box came out, hesitantly. It advanced in a curious way ‑ a few steps forward, a couple of steps back. And it was also talking to itself.
Detritus looked down. He could see . . . he paused . . . at least seven legs of various sizes, only four of which had feet.
He shambled across to the box and banged on the side.
'Hello, hello, piano.
Detritus scratched his head. This seemed to cover it.
'Well . . . all right,' he said.
He watched the piano jerk and wobble down the marble steps and round the corner.
It carried on talking to itself:
'How long have we got, d'you think?' hello, what is all this . . . then?' he said, concentrating to get the sentence right.The box stopped.Then it said, 'We're a piano.'Detritus gave this due consideration. He wasn't sure what a piano was.'A piano move about, does it?' he said.'It's . . . we've got legs,' said the piano.Detritus conceded the point.'But it are the middle of the night,' he said.'Even pianos have to have time off,' said the
Monday, May 11, 2009
Douglas Hofmann Jessica
Douglas Hofmann JessicaPino remember whenPablo Picasso Three WomenPablo Picasso Seated Bather
trekked back to the distant door, went out into the hall, and tried the next door. A suspicion was beginning to form in her mind.
The door led to A moment later another one appeared in its place, with the faintest of 'pings'. In front of her eyes, sand began to fall . . .
And she was aware that this process was going on all over the room. Old hourglasses vanished, new ones took their place.
She knew about this, too.another huge room, but this one was full of shelves, floor to distant, cloud‑hung ceiling. Every shelf was lined with hourglasses.The sand pouring from the past to the future filled the room with a sound like surf, a noise made up of a billion small sounds.Susan walked between the shelves. It was like being in a crowd.Her eye was caught by a movement on a nearby shelf. In most of the hourglasses the falling sand was a solid silver line but in this one, just as she watched, the line vanished. The last grain of sand tumbled into the bottom bulb.The hourglass vanished with a small 'pop'.
trekked back to the distant door, went out into the hall, and tried the next door. A suspicion was beginning to form in her mind.
The door led to A moment later another one appeared in its place, with the faintest of 'pings'. In front of her eyes, sand began to fall . . .
And she was aware that this process was going on all over the room. Old hourglasses vanished, new ones took their place.
She knew about this, too.another huge room, but this one was full of shelves, floor to distant, cloud‑hung ceiling. Every shelf was lined with hourglasses.The sand pouring from the past to the future filled the room with a sound like surf, a noise made up of a billion small sounds.Susan walked between the shelves. It was like being in a crowd.Her eye was caught by a movement on a nearby shelf. In most of the hourglasses the falling sand was a solid silver line but in this one, just as she watched, the line vanished. The last grain of sand tumbled into the bottom bulb.The hourglass vanished with a small 'pop'.
Friday, May 8, 2009
Andy Warhol Banana
Andy Warhol Banana
Salvador Dali ArgusJohannes Vermeer The Little StreetJohannes Vermeer Mistress and Maid
have helped Miss Butts.
All she'd been able to manage was: 'I wonder if, perhaps, you fully understood what I have told you?'
The child had stared at the ceiling as though trying to work out a difficult problem in algebra and then said, ' I expect I will.'
It was as if she'd already known, and had dealt with it in some way. Miss Butts had asked the teachers to watch Susan carefully. 'I'm sorry to say that it appears you have been missed in lessons again.'They'd said that was hard, because . . .There was a tentative knock on Miss Butts's study door, as if it was being made by someone who'd really prefer not to be heard. She returned to the present.'Come,' she said.The door swung open.Susan always made no sound. The teachers had all remarked upon it. It was uncanny, they said. She was always in front of you when you least expected it.'Ah, Susan,' said Miss Butts, a tight smile scuttling across her face like a nervous tick over a worried sheep. 'Please sit down.''Of course, Miss Butts.'Miss Butts shuffled the papers.'Susan . . .''Yes, Miss Butts?'
Salvador Dali ArgusJohannes Vermeer The Little StreetJohannes Vermeer Mistress and Maid
have helped Miss Butts.
All she'd been able to manage was: 'I wonder if, perhaps, you fully understood what I have told you?'
The child had stared at the ceiling as though trying to work out a difficult problem in algebra and then said, ' I expect I will.'
It was as if she'd already known, and had dealt with it in some way. Miss Butts had asked the teachers to watch Susan carefully. 'I'm sorry to say that it appears you have been missed in lessons again.'They'd said that was hard, because . . .There was a tentative knock on Miss Butts's study door, as if it was being made by someone who'd really prefer not to be heard. She returned to the present.'Come,' she said.The door swung open.Susan always made no sound. The teachers had all remarked upon it. It was uncanny, they said. She was always in front of you when you least expected it.'Ah, Susan,' said Miss Butts, a tight smile scuttling across her face like a nervous tick over a worried sheep. 'Please sit down.''Of course, Miss Butts.'Miss Butts shuffled the papers.'Susan . . .''Yes, Miss Butts?'
Wednesday, May 6, 2009
Pino Morning Breeze
Pino Morning BreezePino First GlanceEdvard Munch The Girls on the BridgeMartin Johnson Heade Rio de Janeiro Bay
you writing it all down, like Captain Vimes did?' she said, after a while.
'No.'
'What are you know. Propping and shoring. You can't get things wrong in a mine. You have to do things right.'
His pencil scritched on the paper.
The door was still ajar, but there was a tentative tap on it which said, in a kind of doing, then?''I'm writing to my mum and dad.''Really?''I always write to my mum and dad. I promised them. Anyway, it helps me think. I always write letters home when I'm thinking. My dad sends me lots of good advice, too.'There was a wooden box in front of Carrot. Letters were stacked in it. Carrot's father had been in the habit of replying to Carrot on the back of Carrot's own letters, because paper was hard to come by at the bottom of a dwarf mine.'What kind of good advice?''About mining, usually. Moving rocks. You
you writing it all down, like Captain Vimes did?' she said, after a while.
'No.'
'What are you know. Propping and shoring. You can't get things wrong in a mine. You have to do things right.'
His pencil scritched on the paper.
The door was still ajar, but there was a tentative tap on it which said, in a kind of doing, then?''I'm writing to my mum and dad.''Really?''I always write to my mum and dad. I promised them. Anyway, it helps me think. I always write letters home when I'm thinking. My dad sends me lots of good advice, too.'There was a wooden box in front of Carrot. Letters were stacked in it. Carrot's father had been in the habit of replying to Carrot on the back of Carrot's own letters, because paper was hard to come by at the bottom of a dwarf mine.'What kind of good advice?''About mining, usually. Moving rocks. You
Sunday, May 3, 2009
Leroy Neiman Washington Square Park
Leroy Neiman Washington Square ParkLeroy Neiman The Brooklyn BridgeLeroy Neiman Roulette II
that one in your belt?'
Carrot said nothing. However, he shifted position slightly. His biceps strained against the leather of his jerkin.
'Official sword. Right,' said Quirke. He turned. He was one of those people who would recoil from an assault on strength, butwords like halfpint and gritsucker were offensive, they were as terms of universal brotherhood compared to words like 'people of their type' in the mouth of men like Quirke. Much to her shock, she found her gaze concentrating on the man's jugular vein.
'Fighting?' said Carrot. 'Why?'
Quirke shrugged.
'Who knows?' attack weakness without mercy. 'Where's the gritsucker?' he said. 'And the rock?''Ah,' said Vimes, 'you are referring to those representative members of our fellow sapient races who have chosen to throw in their lots with the people of this city?''I mean the dwarf and the troll,' said Quirke.'Haven't the faintest idea,' said Vimes cheerfully. It seemed to Angua that he was drunk again, if people could get drunk on despair.'We dunno, sir,' said Colon. 'Haven't seen 'em all day.''Probably fighting up in Quarry Lane with the rest of them,'' said Quirke. 'You can't trust people of their type. You ought to know that.'And it also seemed to Angua that although
that one in your belt?'
Carrot said nothing. However, he shifted position slightly. His biceps strained against the leather of his jerkin.
'Official sword. Right,' said Quirke. He turned. He was one of those people who would recoil from an assault on strength, butwords like halfpint and gritsucker were offensive, they were as terms of universal brotherhood compared to words like 'people of their type' in the mouth of men like Quirke. Much to her shock, she found her gaze concentrating on the man's jugular vein.
'Fighting?' said Carrot. 'Why?'
Quirke shrugged.
'Who knows?' attack weakness without mercy. 'Where's the gritsucker?' he said. 'And the rock?''Ah,' said Vimes, 'you are referring to those representative members of our fellow sapient races who have chosen to throw in their lots with the people of this city?''I mean the dwarf and the troll,' said Quirke.'Haven't the faintest idea,' said Vimes cheerfully. It seemed to Angua that he was drunk again, if people could get drunk on despair.'We dunno, sir,' said Colon. 'Haven't seen 'em all day.''Probably fighting up in Quarry Lane with the rest of them,'' said Quirke. 'You can't trust people of their type. You ought to know that.'And it also seemed to Angua that although
Tuesday, April 28, 2009
Rembrandt Saskia As Flora
Rembrandt Saskia As FloraRembrandt Samson And DelilahLord Frederick Leighton OdalisqueLord Frederick Leighton Nausicaa
do our best!'
'Um. I didn't translate that properly. Um. They don't think we're any good. They don't mean to be offensive, sir. They just don't think we'll be allowed to get anywhere, sir.'
'Ow!'
'Sorry about that, captain,' said Carrot, who was walking like an inverted L. 'After you. Mind your head on the—'
'Ow!'
'Perhaps it'd be 'Someone thumped the wall pretty hard just here,' said Carrot.
'Could have happened at any time,' said Vimes.
'No, sir, because there's the plaster dust underneath best if you sat down and I'll look around.'The workshop was long and, of course, low, with another small door at the far end. There was a big workbench under a skylight. On the opposite wall was a forge and a tool rack. And a hole.A chunk of plaster had fallen away a few feet above the ground, and cracks radiated away from the shattered brickwork underneath.Vimes pinched the bridge of his nose. He hadn't found time to sleep today. That was another thing. He'd have to get used to sleeping when it was dark. He couldn't remember when he'd last slept at night.He sniffed.'I can smell fireworks,' he said.'Could be from the forge,' said Carrot. 'Anyway, trolls and dwarfs have been letting fireworks off all over the city.'Vimes nodded.'All right,' he said, 'so what can we see?'
do our best!'
'Um. I didn't translate that properly. Um. They don't think we're any good. They don't mean to be offensive, sir. They just don't think we'll be allowed to get anywhere, sir.'
'Ow!'
'Sorry about that, captain,' said Carrot, who was walking like an inverted L. 'After you. Mind your head on the—'
'Ow!'
'Perhaps it'd be 'Someone thumped the wall pretty hard just here,' said Carrot.
'Could have happened at any time,' said Vimes.
'No, sir, because there's the plaster dust underneath best if you sat down and I'll look around.'The workshop was long and, of course, low, with another small door at the far end. There was a big workbench under a skylight. On the opposite wall was a forge and a tool rack. And a hole.A chunk of plaster had fallen away a few feet above the ground, and cracks radiated away from the shattered brickwork underneath.Vimes pinched the bridge of his nose. He hadn't found time to sleep today. That was another thing. He'd have to get used to sleeping when it was dark. He couldn't remember when he'd last slept at night.He sniffed.'I can smell fireworks,' he said.'Could be from the forge,' said Carrot. 'Anyway, trolls and dwarfs have been letting fireworks off all over the city.'Vimes nodded.'All right,' he said, 'so what can we see?'
Monday, April 27, 2009
Thomas Kinkade Courage
Thomas Kinkade CourageThomas Kinkade City by the BayThomas Kinkade Blessings of ChristmasThomas Kinkade Beyond Summer Gate
expression. 'The cook always does a mixed grill of a Wednesday night. No-one ever eats the black pudding. So it's round the kitchens, see,Vimes crossed to the hole in the wall and peered inside. A couple of Assassins glanced at Dr Cruces and reached nonchalantly towards various areas of their clothing. He shook his head. His caution woof woof, beg beg, who's a good boy then, look at the little bugger, he looks as though he understands every word I'm sayin', let's see what we've got here for a good doggy . . .'He looked embarrassed for a moment.'Pride is all very well, but a sausage is a sausage,' he said. 'Fireworks?' said Vimes.Dr Cruces looked like a man grasping a floating log in a choppy sea.'Yes. Fireworks. Yes. For Founder's Day. Unfortunately someone threw away a lighted match which ignited the box.' Dr Cruces suddenly smiled. 'My dear Captain Vimes,' he said, clapping his hands, 'much as I appreciate your concern, I really—''They were stored in that room over there?' said Vimes.'Yes, but that's of no account—' might
expression. 'The cook always does a mixed grill of a Wednesday night. No-one ever eats the black pudding. So it's round the kitchens, see,Vimes crossed to the hole in the wall and peered inside. A couple of Assassins glanced at Dr Cruces and reached nonchalantly towards various areas of their clothing. He shook his head. His caution woof woof, beg beg, who's a good boy then, look at the little bugger, he looks as though he understands every word I'm sayin', let's see what we've got here for a good doggy . . .'He looked embarrassed for a moment.'Pride is all very well, but a sausage is a sausage,' he said. 'Fireworks?' said Vimes.Dr Cruces looked like a man grasping a floating log in a choppy sea.'Yes. Fireworks. Yes. For Founder's Day. Unfortunately someone threw away a lighted match which ignited the box.' Dr Cruces suddenly smiled. 'My dear Captain Vimes,' he said, clapping his hands, 'much as I appreciate your concern, I really—''They were stored in that room over there?' said Vimes.'Yes, but that's of no account—' might
Sunday, April 26, 2009
Thomas Cole Kaaterskill Falls
Thomas Cole Kaaterskill FallsClaude Monet Vetheuil In SummerClaude Monet The LuncheonClaude Monet SunflowersClaude Monet Poplars
Nanny?”
“Yes, love?”
“I don’t understand. She was your friend but you don’t seem ... well... upset?”
“Well, I’ve buried a few husbands and one or two kid-
291
Terry Pratchett
dies. You get the hang of it. Anyway, if she hasn’t gone to a better place she’ll damn well be setting out to improve it.”
“Nanny?”
“Yes, love?”
“Did you know anything about the letter?”
“What letter?”
“The letter to . If you wishes to marrie her, then starte arranging matters without delae, because if you just proposes and similar she will lede you a Dance because there is noone like Magrat for getting in the way of her own life. She does not Knoe her own Mind. You aere Kinge and you can doe what you like. You muste present her with a Fate Accompli. PS. I hear there is talk aboute making witches pay tax, no kinges of Lancre has tried this for many a Year, you could profit from their exam-ple. Yrs. in good health, at the moment. A FRIEND (MSS).”Verence.”“Don’t know anything about any letter to Verence.”“He must have got it weeks before we got back. She must have sent it even before we got to Ankh-Morpork.”Nanny Ogg looked, as far as Magrat could tell, genuinely blank.“Oh, hell,” said Magrat. “I mean this letter.”She fished it out of the breastplate.“See?”Nanny Ogg read:“Dear sire. This is to inform youe that Magrate Garlick will bee retouning to Lancre on or aboute Blind Pig Tuesday. Shee is a Wet Hen but shee is clean and has got Good Teeth
Nanny?”
“Yes, love?”
“I don’t understand. She was your friend but you don’t seem ... well... upset?”
“Well, I’ve buried a few husbands and one or two kid-
291
Terry Pratchett
dies. You get the hang of it. Anyway, if she hasn’t gone to a better place she’ll damn well be setting out to improve it.”
“Nanny?”
“Yes, love?”
“Did you know anything about the letter?”
“What letter?”
“The letter to . If you wishes to marrie her, then starte arranging matters without delae, because if you just proposes and similar she will lede you a Dance because there is noone like Magrat for getting in the way of her own life. She does not Knoe her own Mind. You aere Kinge and you can doe what you like. You muste present her with a Fate Accompli. PS. I hear there is talk aboute making witches pay tax, no kinges of Lancre has tried this for many a Year, you could profit from their exam-ple. Yrs. in good health, at the moment. A FRIEND (MSS).”Verence.”“Don’t know anything about any letter to Verence.”“He must have got it weeks before we got back. She must have sent it even before we got to Ankh-Morpork.”Nanny Ogg looked, as far as Magrat could tell, genuinely blank.“Oh, hell,” said Magrat. “I mean this letter.”She fished it out of the breastplate.“See?”Nanny Ogg read:“Dear sire. This is to inform youe that Magrate Garlick will bee retouning to Lancre on or aboute Blind Pig Tuesday. Shee is a Wet Hen but shee is clean and has got Good Teeth
Friday, April 24, 2009
Pop art art on fire
Pop art art on firePop art another lazy afternoonPop art trane in blue
chimed together now in Magrat’s head.
Up the airy mountain, down the rushy glen. ..
From ghosties and bogles and long-leggity beasties...
My mother said I never should...
We dare not go a-hunting, for fear...
And things thatclever as them, as light as them; we are animals.
Chilly wind soughed in the forest beyond the town. It had always been a pleasant forest to walk in at nights but now, she knew, it would not be so again. The trees would have eyes. There would be distant laughter in the wind.
What they take is everything.
Magrat spurred the horse into a walk. Somewhere in the town a door slammed shut. go bump ...Play with the fairies in the wood...Magrat sat on the horse she didn’t trust and gripped the sword she didn’t know how to use while the ciphers crept out of memory and climbed into a shape.They steal cattle and babies...They steal milk...They love music, and steal away musicians...In fact they steal everything.235Terry PratchettWe’ll never be as free as them, as beautiful as them, as
chimed together now in Magrat’s head.
Up the airy mountain, down the rushy glen. ..
From ghosties and bogles and long-leggity beasties...
My mother said I never should...
We dare not go a-hunting, for fear...
And things thatclever as them, as light as them; we are animals.
Chilly wind soughed in the forest beyond the town. It had always been a pleasant forest to walk in at nights but now, she knew, it would not be so again. The trees would have eyes. There would be distant laughter in the wind.
What they take is everything.
Magrat spurred the horse into a walk. Somewhere in the town a door slammed shut. go bump ...Play with the fairies in the wood...Magrat sat on the horse she didn’t trust and gripped the sword she didn’t know how to use while the ciphers crept out of memory and climbed into a shape.They steal cattle and babies...They steal milk...They love music, and steal away musicians...In fact they steal everything.235Terry PratchettWe’ll never be as free as them, as beautiful as them, as
Tuesday, April 21, 2009
Joaquin Sorolla y Bastida Port of Valencia
Joaquin Sorolla y Bastida Port of ValenciaJoaquin Sorolla y Bastida Arrival of the BoatsJoaquin Sorolla y Bastida Valencian Scene
Terry Pratchett
No one ever said elves are nice.
Elves are bad.
“Well, that’s it,” said Nanny Ogg, as the witches walked out over the castle’s drawbridge. “Well done, Esme.”
“It ain’t drop the word to the Mountain King. The dwarfs and trolls’ll take it off our hands like a shot. No more problem.”
Granny ignored this.
“There’s something else,” she said. “Something we haven’t thought of. She’ll still be looking for a way.”
They’d reached the town square now. She surveyed it. Of course, Verence was king and that was over,” said Granny Weatherwax.“You said yourself they can’t get through now. No one else round here’s going to try any magic at the stones, that’s sure enough.”“Yes, but it’ll be circle time for another day or so yet.Anything could happen.”“That Diamanda girl’s out of it, and you’ve put the wind up the others,” said Nanny Ogg, tossing the lamb bone into the dry moat. “Ain’t no one else going to call ‘em, I know that.”“There’s still the one in the dungeon.”“You want to get rid of it?” said Nanny. “I’ll send our Shawn to King Ironfoundersson up at Copperhead, if you like. Or I could hop on the old broomstick meself and go and
Terry Pratchett
No one ever said elves are nice.
Elves are bad.
“Well, that’s it,” said Nanny Ogg, as the witches walked out over the castle’s drawbridge. “Well done, Esme.”
“It ain’t drop the word to the Mountain King. The dwarfs and trolls’ll take it off our hands like a shot. No more problem.”
Granny ignored this.
“There’s something else,” she said. “Something we haven’t thought of. She’ll still be looking for a way.”
They’d reached the town square now. She surveyed it. Of course, Verence was king and that was over,” said Granny Weatherwax.“You said yourself they can’t get through now. No one else round here’s going to try any magic at the stones, that’s sure enough.”“Yes, but it’ll be circle time for another day or so yet.Anything could happen.”“That Diamanda girl’s out of it, and you’ve put the wind up the others,” said Nanny Ogg, tossing the lamb bone into the dry moat. “Ain’t no one else going to call ‘em, I know that.”“There’s still the one in the dungeon.”“You want to get rid of it?” said Nanny. “I’ll send our Shawn to King Ironfoundersson up at Copperhead, if you like. Or I could hop on the old broomstick meself and go and
Monday, April 20, 2009
Thomas Moran Colburn's Butte, South Utah
Thomas Moran Colburn's Butte, South UtahThomas Moran Cliffs of the Upper Colorado riverThomas Moran Cliffs of Green River
Three million.”
“Hop in,” said Ridcully
Casanunda threw his stepladder into the coach and then peered into the gloom.
“Is that an ape asleep in there?”
“Yes.”
The Librarian opened one eye.
90Half an hour later Ridcully owed the dwarf $8,000.
“But I put it on my visiting card,” Casanunda pointed out. “Outrageous liar. Right there.”
“Yes, but I thought you were lying!”
Ridcully sighed and, to Ponder’s amazement, produced a bag of coins from some inner recess. They were large coins and looked suspiciously realistic and golden.
Casanunda might have been a libidinous soldier of for-tune by profession but he was a dwarf by genetics, and there are some things dwarfs know.
“Hmm,” he said. “You don’t have “outrageous liar” on your visiting card, by any chance?”
“No!” said Ridcully excitedlyLQRD6 ft/VD LftD/£6“What about the smell?”“He won’t mind.”“Hadn’t you better apologize to the coachman?” saidPonder.“No, but I could kick him again harder if he likes.”“And that’s the Bursar,” said Ridcully, pointing to Exhibit B, who was sleeping the sleep of the near-terminally overdosed on dried frog pills. “Hey, Bursar? Bursssaaar? No, he’s out like a light. Just push him under the seat. Can you play Cripple Mr. Onion?”“Not very well.”“Capital!”
Three million.”
“Hop in,” said Ridcully
Casanunda threw his stepladder into the coach and then peered into the gloom.
“Is that an ape asleep in there?”
“Yes.”
The Librarian opened one eye.
90Half an hour later Ridcully owed the dwarf $8,000.
“But I put it on my visiting card,” Casanunda pointed out. “Outrageous liar. Right there.”
“Yes, but I thought you were lying!”
Ridcully sighed and, to Ponder’s amazement, produced a bag of coins from some inner recess. They were large coins and looked suspiciously realistic and golden.
Casanunda might have been a libidinous soldier of for-tune by profession but he was a dwarf by genetics, and there are some things dwarfs know.
“Hmm,” he said. “You don’t have “outrageous liar” on your visiting card, by any chance?”
“No!” said Ridcully excitedlyLQRD6 ft/VD LftD/£6“What about the smell?”“He won’t mind.”“Hadn’t you better apologize to the coachman?” saidPonder.“No, but I could kick him again harder if he likes.”“And that’s the Bursar,” said Ridcully, pointing to Exhibit B, who was sleeping the sleep of the near-terminally overdosed on dried frog pills. “Hey, Bursar? Bursssaaar? No, he’s out like a light. Just push him under the seat. Can you play Cripple Mr. Onion?”“Not very well.”“Capital!”
Thursday, April 16, 2009
William Bouguereau The Wave
William Bouguereau The WaveWilliam Bouguereau RestWilliam Bouguereau The Rapture of Psyche
voice of theophany rumbled off the distant mountains.
III. Do I Hear Any Objections? No? Good.
The cloud had by now condensed into a shimmering golden figure, as tall as the Temple. It leaned down until its face was a few feet away from Brutha, and in a whisper that boomed across the Place said:
IV. Don't Worry. This Is Just The Start. You and Me, Kid! People Are Going To Find Out What Wailing and Gnashing Of Teeth Really "How about `Think for Yourself'?" said Urn, staring in horrified fascination at the manifestation.
"No," said Simony. "Try something like `Social Cohesiveness is the Key to Progress.' "
"Can't say it rolls off the tongue," said Urn.
"If I can be of any help," said Cut-Me-Own-Hand-Off Dhblah, from the crowd, "something of benefit to the convenience food industry would be very welcome."
"Not killing people. We could do with one like that," said someone else.Is.Another shaft of flame shot out and struck the Temple doors. They slammed shut, and then the white-hot bronze melted, erasing the commandments of the centuries.V. What Shall It Be, Prophet?Brutha stood up, unsteadily. Urn supported him by one arm, and Simony by the other."Mm?" he said, muzzily.VI. Your Commandments?"I thought they were supposed to come from you," said Brutha. "I don't know if I can think of any . . .The world waited.
voice of theophany rumbled off the distant mountains.
III. Do I Hear Any Objections? No? Good.
The cloud had by now condensed into a shimmering golden figure, as tall as the Temple. It leaned down until its face was a few feet away from Brutha, and in a whisper that boomed across the Place said:
IV. Don't Worry. This Is Just The Start. You and Me, Kid! People Are Going To Find Out What Wailing and Gnashing Of Teeth Really "How about `Think for Yourself'?" said Urn, staring in horrified fascination at the manifestation.
"No," said Simony. "Try something like `Social Cohesiveness is the Key to Progress.' "
"Can't say it rolls off the tongue," said Urn.
"If I can be of any help," said Cut-Me-Own-Hand-Off Dhblah, from the crowd, "something of benefit to the convenience food industry would be very welcome."
"Not killing people. We could do with one like that," said someone else.Is.Another shaft of flame shot out and struck the Temple doors. They slammed shut, and then the white-hot bronze melted, erasing the commandments of the centuries.V. What Shall It Be, Prophet?Brutha stood up, unsteadily. Urn supported him by one arm, and Simony by the other."Mm?" he said, muzzily.VI. Your Commandments?"I thought they were supposed to come from you," said Brutha. "I don't know if I can think of any . . .The world waited.
Alphonse Maria Mucha Morning Star
Alphonse Maria Mucha Morning StarAlphonse Maria Mucha Monaco Monte CarloAlphonse Maria Mucha Medee
yeah. They were burdened by all the food and water they had to carry," said Om bitterly. "How lucky for us we haven't got any."
Brutha glanced at Vorbis. He was walking unaided now, provided that you gently turned him around whenever you needed to change direction.
But even Om had to admit that the tracks were some comfort. In a way they were alive, in the same way that an echo is alive. People had been this way, not long ago. There were other people in the world. Someone, somewhere, was surviving.
Or not. After an hour or"Might be useful."
"Against who?"
"Might be useful."
An hour later the lion, who was limping after Brutha, also arrived at the grave. It had lived in the desert for sixteen years, and the reason it had lived so long was that it had not died, and it had not died because so they came across a mound beside the track. There was a helmet atop it, and a sword stuck in the sand."A lot of soldiers died to get here quickly," said Brutha.Whoever had taken enough time to bury their dead had also drawn a symbol in the sand of the mound. Brutha halfexpected it to be a turtle, but the desert wind had not quite eroded the crude shape of a pair of horns."I don't understand that," said Om. "They don't really believe I exist, but they go and put something like that on a grave.""It's hard to explain. I think it's because they believe they exist," said Brutha. "It's because they're people, and so was he."He pulled the sword out of the sand."What do you want that for?"
yeah. They were burdened by all the food and water they had to carry," said Om bitterly. "How lucky for us we haven't got any."
Brutha glanced at Vorbis. He was walking unaided now, provided that you gently turned him around whenever you needed to change direction.
But even Om had to admit that the tracks were some comfort. In a way they were alive, in the same way that an echo is alive. People had been this way, not long ago. There were other people in the world. Someone, somewhere, was surviving.
Or not. After an hour or"Might be useful."
"Against who?"
"Might be useful."
An hour later the lion, who was limping after Brutha, also arrived at the grave. It had lived in the desert for sixteen years, and the reason it had lived so long was that it had not died, and it had not died because so they came across a mound beside the track. There was a helmet atop it, and a sword stuck in the sand."A lot of soldiers died to get here quickly," said Brutha.Whoever had taken enough time to bury their dead had also drawn a symbol in the sand of the mound. Brutha halfexpected it to be a turtle, but the desert wind had not quite eroded the crude shape of a pair of horns."I don't understand that," said Om. "They don't really believe I exist, but they go and put something like that on a grave.""It's hard to explain. I think it's because they believe they exist," said Brutha. "It's because they're people, and so was he."He pulled the sword out of the sand."What do you want that for?"
Tuesday, April 14, 2009
Andy Warhol Pink Cow
Andy Warhol Pink CowAndy Warhol Ingrid with HatAndy Warhol Flowers 1964Tom Thomson Woodland WaterfallTom Thomson The Pool
, you decide to go and stir them up a bit and then . . . a tortoise. It's like going to the bank and finding the money's been leaking out through a hole. The first you know is when you stroll down looking for a handy mind, and suddenly you're a tortoise and there's no power left to get out.
Three years
Brutha was counting the flashes of light off the desert. "It's a good thing I had a mirror, yes?" said the captain hopefully. "I expect his lordship won't mind about the mirror because it turned out to be useful?"
"I don't think he thinks like that," said Brutha, still counting.of looking up at practically everything . . .Old Ur-Gilash? Perhaps he was hanging on as a lizard somewhere, with some old hermit as his only believer. More likely he had been blown out into the desert. A small god was lucky to get one chance.There was something wrong. Om couldn't quite put his finger on it, and not only because he didn't have a finger. Gods rose and fell like bits of onion in a boiling soup, but this time was different. There was something wrong this time . . .He'd forced out Ur-Gilash. Fair enough. Law of the jungle. But no one was challenging him . . .Where was Brutha?"Brutha! "
, you decide to go and stir them up a bit and then . . . a tortoise. It's like going to the bank and finding the money's been leaking out through a hole. The first you know is when you stroll down looking for a handy mind, and suddenly you're a tortoise and there's no power left to get out.
Three years
Brutha was counting the flashes of light off the desert. "It's a good thing I had a mirror, yes?" said the captain hopefully. "I expect his lordship won't mind about the mirror because it turned out to be useful?"
"I don't think he thinks like that," said Brutha, still counting.of looking up at practically everything . . .Old Ur-Gilash? Perhaps he was hanging on as a lizard somewhere, with some old hermit as his only believer. More likely he had been blown out into the desert. A small god was lucky to get one chance.There was something wrong. Om couldn't quite put his finger on it, and not only because he didn't have a finger. Gods rose and fell like bits of onion in a boiling soup, but this time was different. There was something wrong this time . . .He'd forced out Ur-Gilash. Fair enough. Law of the jungle. But no one was challenging him . . .Where was Brutha?"Brutha! "
Monday, April 13, 2009
Leonardo da Vinci Female Head
Leonardo da Vinci Female HeadLeonardo da Vinci AnnunciationThomas Kinkade Seaside Village
spoke to him in the desert," said Brutha. "You must remember. He was eight feet tall? With a very long beard? And a huge staff? And the glow of the holy horns shining out of his head?" He hesitated. But he'd seen the statues and the holy icons. They couldn't be wrong.
"Never met sure I would have remembered one hundred and ninety-three chapters."
"What did you say to him, then?"
"As far as I can remember it was 'Hey, see what I can do!' " said the tortoise.
Brutha stared at it. It looked embarrassed, insofar as that's possible for a tortoise.
"Even gods like to relax," it said.anyone like that," said the small god Om."Maybe he was a bit shorter," Brutha conceded."Ossory. Ossory," said the tortoise. "No . . . no . . . can't say I-”"He said that you spoke unto him from out of a pillar of flame," said Brutha."Oh, that Ossory," said the tortoise. "Pillar of flame. Yes.""And you dictated to him the Book of Ossory," said Brutha. "Which contains the Directions, the Gateways, the Abjurations, and the Precepts. One hundred and ninetythree chapters.""I don't think I did all that," said Om doubtfully. "I'm
spoke to him in the desert," said Brutha. "You must remember. He was eight feet tall? With a very long beard? And a huge staff? And the glow of the holy horns shining out of his head?" He hesitated. But he'd seen the statues and the holy icons. They couldn't be wrong.
"Never met sure I would have remembered one hundred and ninety-three chapters."
"What did you say to him, then?"
"As far as I can remember it was 'Hey, see what I can do!' " said the tortoise.
Brutha stared at it. It looked embarrassed, insofar as that's possible for a tortoise.
"Even gods like to relax," it said.anyone like that," said the small god Om."Maybe he was a bit shorter," Brutha conceded."Ossory. Ossory," said the tortoise. "No . . . no . . . can't say I-”"He said that you spoke unto him from out of a pillar of flame," said Brutha."Oh, that Ossory," said the tortoise. "Pillar of flame. Yes.""And you dictated to him the Book of Ossory," said Brutha. "Which contains the Directions, the Gateways, the Abjurations, and the Precepts. One hundred and ninetythree chapters.""I don't think I did all that," said Om doubtfully. "I'm
Joseph Mallord William Turner Portsmouth
Joseph Mallord William Turner PortsmouthJohn Singer Sargent Lady AgnewLord Frederick Leighton Solitude
was wandering around the walls, giving them the occasional prod. There had to be some good reason why they didn't fall down, but if there was it didn't lie in the realms of civil engineering.
'Are you looking for Rincewind?' said Coin.
Conina frowned. 'How did you guess that?'
'He told me crouch, her knuckles whitening.
'It is true,' said Coin. 'Everything I say is true. It has to be.'
'I want to-’ Conina began, and Coin stood up, extended a hand and said, 'Stop.'
She froze. Nijel stiffened in mid-frown.
'You will leave,' said Coin, in a pleasant, level voice, 'and you will ask no more questions. You will be totally satisfied. You have all your answers. You will live happily ever after. You will forget hearing these words. You will go now.'some people would come looking for him.'Conina relaxed. 'Sorry,' she said, 'we've had a bit of a trying time. I thought perhaps it was magic, or something. He's all right, isn't he? I mean, what's been happening? Did he fight the sourcerer?''Oh, yes. And he won. It was very ... interesting. I saw it all. But then he had to go,' said Coin, as though reciting.'What, just like that?' said Nijel.'Yes.''I don't believe it,' said Conina. She was beginning to
was wandering around the walls, giving them the occasional prod. There had to be some good reason why they didn't fall down, but if there was it didn't lie in the realms of civil engineering.
'Are you looking for Rincewind?' said Coin.
Conina frowned. 'How did you guess that?'
'He told me crouch, her knuckles whitening.
'It is true,' said Coin. 'Everything I say is true. It has to be.'
'I want to-’ Conina began, and Coin stood up, extended a hand and said, 'Stop.'
She froze. Nijel stiffened in mid-frown.
'You will leave,' said Coin, in a pleasant, level voice, 'and you will ask no more questions. You will be totally satisfied. You have all your answers. You will live happily ever after. You will forget hearing these words. You will go now.'some people would come looking for him.'Conina relaxed. 'Sorry,' she said, 'we've had a bit of a trying time. I thought perhaps it was magic, or something. He's all right, isn't he? I mean, what's been happening? Did he fight the sourcerer?''Oh, yes. And he won. It was very ... interesting. I saw it all. But then he had to go,' said Coin, as though reciting.'What, just like that?' said Nijel.'Yes.''I don't believe it,' said Conina. She was beginning to
Friday, April 10, 2009
Paul Cezanne A Modern Olympia
Paul Cezanne A Modern OlympiaLaurie Maitland Autumn SongWilliam Bouguereau Yvonne
pointed irritably to a half-open stone doorway just ahead of them.
'I want to look up there,' she said. 'You just put your hands together for me to stand on, right? How do you manage to be so useless?'
'Being useful 'It's a bucket,' said Conina flatly, giving it a push.
'What, of scalding, poisonous -?'
'Whitewash. Just a lot of old, dried-up whitewash.' Conina jumped down.
'That's grandfather for you,' said Creosote. 'Never a dull moment.'
'Well, I've just about had enough,' Conina said firmly, and pointed to the far end of the tunnel. 'Come on, you two.'always gets me into trouble,' muttered Rincewind, trying to ignore the warm flesh brushing against his nose.He could hear her rooting around above the door.'I thought so,' she said.'What is it? Fiendishly sharp spears poised to drop?'No.''Spiked grill ready to skewer -?'
pointed irritably to a half-open stone doorway just ahead of them.
'I want to look up there,' she said. 'You just put your hands together for me to stand on, right? How do you manage to be so useless?'
'Being useful 'It's a bucket,' said Conina flatly, giving it a push.
'What, of scalding, poisonous -?'
'Whitewash. Just a lot of old, dried-up whitewash.' Conina jumped down.
'That's grandfather for you,' said Creosote. 'Never a dull moment.'
'Well, I've just about had enough,' Conina said firmly, and pointed to the far end of the tunnel. 'Come on, you two.'always gets me into trouble,' muttered Rincewind, trying to ignore the warm flesh brushing against his nose.He could hear her rooting around above the door.'I thought so,' she said.'What is it? Fiendishly sharp spears poised to drop?'No.''Spiked grill ready to skewer -?'
Wednesday, April 8, 2009
Jean-Honore Fragonard the lock
Jean-Honore Fragonard the lockJean-Honore Fragonard le jourJean-Honore Fragonard l'aurore
'They'll try to take us alive,' she said.
'Oh,' said Rincewind weakly. 'Good.'
Then he remembered something else about Klatchian slavers, and his throat went dry.
'You'll - you'll be the one they'll really be after,' he said. 'I've heard about what they do-’
'Should I know?' said Conina. To Rincewind's horror she didn't appear to have found a weapon.
'They'll throw you in a seraglio!'
She shrugged. 'Could be worse.'
'But it's got all 'Robe, dress. You better hope they know the difference.'
A hand like a bunch of bananas with rings on grabbed Rincewind's shoulder and spun him around. The captain, a Hublander built on generous bear-like lines, beamed at him through a mass of facial hair.
'Hah!' he said. 'They know not that we aboard these spikes and when they shut the door-’ hazarded Rincewind. The canoes were close enough now to see the determined expressions of the rowers.'That's not a seraglio. That's an Iron Maiden. Don't you know what a seraglio is?''Um ...'She told him. He went crimson.'Anyway, they'll have to capture me first,' said Conina primly. 'It's you who should be worrying.''Why me?''You're the only other one who's wearing a dress.'Rincewind bridled. 'It's a robe-’
'They'll try to take us alive,' she said.
'Oh,' said Rincewind weakly. 'Good.'
Then he remembered something else about Klatchian slavers, and his throat went dry.
'You'll - you'll be the one they'll really be after,' he said. 'I've heard about what they do-’
'Should I know?' said Conina. To Rincewind's horror she didn't appear to have found a weapon.
'They'll throw you in a seraglio!'
She shrugged. 'Could be worse.'
'But it's got all 'Robe, dress. You better hope they know the difference.'
A hand like a bunch of bananas with rings on grabbed Rincewind's shoulder and spun him around. The captain, a Hublander built on generous bear-like lines, beamed at him through a mass of facial hair.
'Hah!' he said. 'They know not that we aboard these spikes and when they shut the door-’ hazarded Rincewind. The canoes were close enough now to see the determined expressions of the rowers.'That's not a seraglio. That's an Iron Maiden. Don't you know what a seraglio is?''Um ...'She told him. He went crimson.'Anyway, they'll have to capture me first,' said Conina primly. 'It's you who should be worrying.''Why me?''You're the only other one who's wearing a dress.'Rincewind bridled. 'It's a robe-’
Vincent van Gogh The potato eaters
Vincent van Gogh The potato eatersVincent van Gogh The Bedroom at ArlesVincent van Gogh Couple in the Park,Arles
tanned golden the general effect was calculated to hit the male libido like a lead pipe.
Rincewind hesitated, and lost a splendid opportunity to keep quiet. From the top of the stairs came a thick trollish voice:
"Ere, I guard appeared at the top of the stairs. Their leader beamed down at the room. The smile suggested that he intended to be the only one to enjoy the joke.
'Don't nobody move,' he suggested.
Rincewind heard a clatter behind him as more guards appeared at the back door.
The Drum's other customers paused with their hands on assorted hilts. These weren't the normal city watch, cautious and genially corrupt. These were walking slabs of muscle and thed you can't go freu dere-'She sprang forward and shoved a round leather box into Rincewind's arms.'Quick, you must come with me,' she said. 'You're in great danger!''Why?’'Because I will kill you if you don't.''Yes, but hang on a moment, in that case-’ Rincewind protested feebly.Three members of the Patrician's personal
tanned golden the general effect was calculated to hit the male libido like a lead pipe.
Rincewind hesitated, and lost a splendid opportunity to keep quiet. From the top of the stairs came a thick trollish voice:
"Ere, I guard appeared at the top of the stairs. Their leader beamed down at the room. The smile suggested that he intended to be the only one to enjoy the joke.
'Don't nobody move,' he suggested.
Rincewind heard a clatter behind him as more guards appeared at the back door.
The Drum's other customers paused with their hands on assorted hilts. These weren't the normal city watch, cautious and genially corrupt. These were walking slabs of muscle and thed you can't go freu dere-'She sprang forward and shoved a round leather box into Rincewind's arms.'Quick, you must come with me,' she said. 'You're in great danger!''Why?’'Because I will kill you if you don't.''Yes, but hang on a moment, in that case-’ Rincewind protested feebly.Three members of the Patrician's personal
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