Salvador Dali Meditation on the HarpSalvador Dali Galatea of the SpheresSalvador Dali GalarinaSalvador Dali Figure at a Window ISalvador Dali Corpus Hypercubus
only get one chance, he thought, and then you die.
He pulled off his shirt and wrapped it around his hand. Then he reached out for the flashing line of the film itself, and gripped it.
It ‘No,’ he said.
There were still images there. They weren’t very clear, but he could still make out the vague shapes of himself and Ginger, hanging on to existence. And the screen itself was moving. It bulged here and there, like ripples of a pool of dull mercury. It looked unpleasantly familiar.
‘They’ve found us,’ he said.
‘Who have?’ said Gaspode.
‘You know those ghastly creatures you were talking about?’snapped. The box jerked backwards. Film went on unreeling in glittering coils which lunged at him briefly and then slithered down to the floor.Clickaclick . . . a . . . click.The reels spun to a halt.Victor cautiously stirred the heap of film with his foot. He’d been half expecting it to attack him like a snake.‘Have we saved the day?’ prompted Gaspode. ‘I’d appreciate knowing.’Victor looked at the screen.
Tuesday 31 March 2009
Sunday 29 March 2009
William Beard Majestic Stag
William Beard Majestic StagWilliam Beard Dancing BearsAndy Warhol Shot Orange Marilyn 1964Andy Warhol Portrait of MauriceAndy Warhol Page from Lips Book
saw M’Bu staring at him.
He shrugged. ‘Let’s go,’ he said.
M’Bu cupped his hands. He’d spent all night working out the order of the march.
‘Blue Section bilong Uncle N’gru – forward!’ he shouted. ‘Yellow Section bilong Aunti Googool – forward! young women to safety looked a good idea on paper, but had major drawbacks after the first hundred yards.
‘Have you any idea where she lives?’ he said. ‘And is it somewhere close?’
‘No idea,’ said Gaspode.
‘She once said something about it being over a clothes shop,’ said Victor.
‘That’ll be in the alley alongside Borgle’s then,’ said Gaspode. Green Section bilong Second-cousin! Kck! - forward . . . ‘ An hour later the veldt in front of the low hill was deserted except for a billion flies and one dung beetle who couldn’t believe his luck. Something went ‘plop’ on the red dust, throwing up a little crater. And again, and again. Lightning split the trunk of a nearby baobab. The rains began. Victor’s back was beginning to ache. Carrying
saw M’Bu staring at him.
He shrugged. ‘Let’s go,’ he said.
M’Bu cupped his hands. He’d spent all night working out the order of the march.
‘Blue Section bilong Uncle N’gru – forward!’ he shouted. ‘Yellow Section bilong Aunti Googool – forward! young women to safety looked a good idea on paper, but had major drawbacks after the first hundred yards.
‘Have you any idea where she lives?’ he said. ‘And is it somewhere close?’
‘No idea,’ said Gaspode.
‘She once said something about it being over a clothes shop,’ said Victor.
‘That’ll be in the alley alongside Borgle’s then,’ said Gaspode. Green Section bilong Second-cousin! Kck! - forward . . . ‘ An hour later the veldt in front of the low hill was deserted except for a billion flies and one dung beetle who couldn’t believe his luck. Something went ‘plop’ on the red dust, throwing up a little crater. And again, and again. Lightning split the trunk of a nearby baobab. The rains began. Victor’s back was beginning to ache. Carrying
Friday 27 March 2009
Claude Monet Zaandam
Claude Monet ZaandamClaude Monet Woman Seated under the WillowsClaude Monet Water-Lilies 1917Claude Monet Water-Lilies 1914Claude Monet The Seine at Rouen I
ain’t dangerous!’ wailed Gaspode, scrabbling with his paws in the sand.
‘A talking dog sounds pretty dangerous to me,’ said Victor.
‘Dreadfullyup and shook sand off himself.
‘You won’t understand it, anyway,’ he grumbled. ‘Another dog would understand, but you won’t. It’s down to species experience, see. Like kissing. You know what it’s like, but I don’t. It’s not a canine experience.’ He noticed the warning look in Victor’s eyes, and plunged on, ‘It’s’ the way you look as if you belong here.’ He watched them for a moment. ‘See? See?’ he said. ‘I tole you you wouldn’t understand. It’s - it’s territory, see? You got all the signs of bein’ right where you should be. Nearly everyone else here is a stranger, but you aren’t. Er. Like, you mus’ have noticed where some dogs bark at you when ,’ said Ginger. ‘You never know what it might say.’ ‘See? See?’ said Gaspode mournfully. ‘I knew it’d be nothing but trouble, showin’ I can talk. It shouldn’t happen to a dog.’ ‘But it’s going to,’ said Victor. ‘Oh, all right. All right. For what good it’ll do,’ muttered Gaspode. Victor relaxed. The dog sat
ain’t dangerous!’ wailed Gaspode, scrabbling with his paws in the sand.
‘A talking dog sounds pretty dangerous to me,’ said Victor.
‘Dreadfullyup and shook sand off himself.
‘You won’t understand it, anyway,’ he grumbled. ‘Another dog would understand, but you won’t. It’s down to species experience, see. Like kissing. You know what it’s like, but I don’t. It’s not a canine experience.’ He noticed the warning look in Victor’s eyes, and plunged on, ‘It’s’ the way you look as if you belong here.’ He watched them for a moment. ‘See? See?’ he said. ‘I tole you you wouldn’t understand. It’s - it’s territory, see? You got all the signs of bein’ right where you should be. Nearly everyone else here is a stranger, but you aren’t. Er. Like, you mus’ have noticed where some dogs bark at you when ,’ said Ginger. ‘You never know what it might say.’ ‘See? See?’ said Gaspode mournfully. ‘I knew it’d be nothing but trouble, showin’ I can talk. It shouldn’t happen to a dog.’ ‘But it’s going to,’ said Victor. ‘Oh, all right. All right. For what good it’ll do,’ muttered Gaspode. Victor relaxed. The dog sat
Wednesday 25 March 2009
Winslow Homer The Herring Net
Winslow Homer The Herring NetWinslow Homer The Fog WarningWinslow Homer Rowing HomeWinslow Homer Kissing the MoonWinslow Homer Gloucester Harbor
Silverfish said, ‘I really don’t think there’s any call for that.’
‘I’m sorry, Mr Silverfish,’ Victor pleaded. ‘I’m really not that kind of person but you did say and I’ve walked all
‘A waclerk?’ said Silverfish.
‘I don’t know if I’d be any good at acting, though,’ Victor confessed.
Silverfish looked surprised. ‘Oh, you’ll be OK,’ he said. ‘It’s very hard to be bad at acting in moving pictures.’
He fumbled in his pocket and pulled out a dollar coin.
‘Here,’ he said, ‘go and get something to eat.’ this way and I haven’t got any money and I’m hungry and I’ll do anything you’ve got. Anything at all. Please.’ Silverfish looked at him doubtfully. ‘Even acting?’ he said. ‘Pardon?’ ‘Moving about and pretending to do things,’ said Silverfish helpfully. ‘Yes!’. ‘Seems a shame, a bright, well-educated lad like you,’ said Silverfish. ‘What do you do?’ ‘I’m studying to be a w–,’ Victor began. He remembered Silverfish’s antipathy towards wizardry, and corrected himself, ‘a clerk.’
Silverfish said, ‘I really don’t think there’s any call for that.’
‘I’m sorry, Mr Silverfish,’ Victor pleaded. ‘I’m really not that kind of person but you did say and I’ve walked all
‘A waclerk?’ said Silverfish.
‘I don’t know if I’d be any good at acting, though,’ Victor confessed.
Silverfish looked surprised. ‘Oh, you’ll be OK,’ he said. ‘It’s very hard to be bad at acting in moving pictures.’
He fumbled in his pocket and pulled out a dollar coin.
‘Here,’ he said, ‘go and get something to eat.’ this way and I haven’t got any money and I’m hungry and I’ll do anything you’ve got. Anything at all. Please.’ Silverfish looked at him doubtfully. ‘Even acting?’ he said. ‘Pardon?’ ‘Moving about and pretending to do things,’ said Silverfish helpfully. ‘Yes!’. ‘Seems a shame, a bright, well-educated lad like you,’ said Silverfish. ‘What do you do?’ ‘I’m studying to be a w–,’ Victor began. He remembered Silverfish’s antipathy towards wizardry, and corrected himself, ‘a clerk.’
Monday 23 March 2009
Gustave Courbet Woman with a Parrot
Gustave Courbet Woman with a ParrotMary Cassatt Children Playing On The BeachMary Cassatt Young Mother SewingEdward Hopper People In The SunFrederic Edwin Church The Icebergs
'Don't you worry about that,' he said, spurring the camel onwards. He couldn't help noticing the way the Sphinx was moving its lips silently, as though trying to work something out.
You Bastard had gone only twenty yards or so before an enraged bellow erupted behind him. For once he forgot the etiquette that says a camel must be hit with a stick before it does anything. All four feet hit the sand and pushed.
This time he . On the whole, any priest who cared about such things could ensure a high rate of success.
However, it was one thing for the gods to ignore you when they were far off and invisible, and quite another when they were strolling across the landscape. It made you feel such a fool.
'Why don't they listen?' said the high priest of Teg, the Horse-Headed god of agriculture. He was in tears. Teg had last been seen sitting in a field, pulling up corn and giggling.got it right. The priests were going irrational. It wasn't that the gods were disobeying them. The gods were ignoring them. The gods always had. It took great skill to persuade a Djelibeybi god to obey you, and the priests had to be fast on their toes. For example, if you pushed a rock off a cliff, then a quick request to the gods that it should fall down was certain to be answered. In the same way, the gods ensured that the sun set and the stars came out. Any petition to the gods to see to it that palm trees grew with their roots in the ground and their leaves on top was certain to be graciously accepted
'Don't you worry about that,' he said, spurring the camel onwards. He couldn't help noticing the way the Sphinx was moving its lips silently, as though trying to work something out.
You Bastard had gone only twenty yards or so before an enraged bellow erupted behind him. For once he forgot the etiquette that says a camel must be hit with a stick before it does anything. All four feet hit the sand and pushed.
This time he . On the whole, any priest who cared about such things could ensure a high rate of success.
However, it was one thing for the gods to ignore you when they were far off and invisible, and quite another when they were strolling across the landscape. It made you feel such a fool.
'Why don't they listen?' said the high priest of Teg, the Horse-Headed god of agriculture. He was in tears. Teg had last been seen sitting in a field, pulling up corn and giggling.got it right. The priests were going irrational. It wasn't that the gods were disobeying them. The gods were ignoring them. The gods always had. It took great skill to persuade a Djelibeybi god to obey you, and the priests had to be fast on their toes. For example, if you pushed a rock off a cliff, then a quick request to the gods that it should fall down was certain to be answered. In the same way, the gods ensured that the sun set and the stars came out. Any petition to the gods to see to it that palm trees grew with their roots in the ground and their leaves on top was certain to be graciously accepted
Friday 20 March 2009
George Bellows Dempsey and Firpo
George Bellows Dempsey and FirpoCaravaggio The Sacrifice of IsaacCaravaggio The MusiciansCaravaggio St JeromeCaravaggio Narcissus
you could just tuck it under my arm, then. . . Have you ever heard of plumbing, Dios?'
The 'I am afraid all the girls I know are in Ankh-Morpork,' said Teppic airily, knowing in his heart that this broad statement referred to Mrs Collar, who had been his bedder in the sixth form, and one of the serving wenches who'd taken a shine to him and always gave him extra gravy. (But . . . and his blood pounded at the memory.. . there had been the annual Assassins' priest snapped his fingers at one of the attendants. 'No, sire,' he said, and leaned forward. 'This is the Asp of Wisdom. I'll just tuck it in here, shall I?' 'It's like buckets, but not as, um, smelly.' 'Sounds dreadful, sire. The smell keeps bad influences away, I have always understood. This, sire, is the Gourd of the Waters of the Heavens. If we could just raise our chin . . .' 'This is all necessary, is it?' said Teppic indistinctly. 'It is traditional, sire. If we could just rearrange things a little, sire. . . here is the Three-Pronged Spear of the Waters of the Earth; I think we will be able to get this finger around it. We shall have to see about our marriage, sire.' 'I'm not sure we would be compatible, Dios.' The high priest smiled with his mouth. 'Sire is pleased to jest, sire,' he said urbanely. 'However, it is essential that you marry.'
you could just tuck it under my arm, then. . . Have you ever heard of plumbing, Dios?'
The 'I am afraid all the girls I know are in Ankh-Morpork,' said Teppic airily, knowing in his heart that this broad statement referred to Mrs Collar, who had been his bedder in the sixth form, and one of the serving wenches who'd taken a shine to him and always gave him extra gravy. (But . . . and his blood pounded at the memory.. . there had been the annual Assassins' priest snapped his fingers at one of the attendants. 'No, sire,' he said, and leaned forward. 'This is the Asp of Wisdom. I'll just tuck it in here, shall I?' 'It's like buckets, but not as, um, smelly.' 'Sounds dreadful, sire. The smell keeps bad influences away, I have always understood. This, sire, is the Gourd of the Waters of the Heavens. If we could just raise our chin . . .' 'This is all necessary, is it?' said Teppic indistinctly. 'It is traditional, sire. If we could just rearrange things a little, sire. . . here is the Three-Pronged Spear of the Waters of the Earth; I think we will be able to get this finger around it. We shall have to see about our marriage, sire.' 'I'm not sure we would be compatible, Dios.' The high priest smiled with his mouth. 'Sire is pleased to jest, sire,' he said urbanely. 'However, it is essential that you marry.'
Thursday 19 March 2009
Leroy Neiman Mardi Gras Parade
Leroy Neiman Mardi Gras ParadeLeroy Neiman Lights of BroadwayLeroy Neiman Lady LibertyLeroy Neiman Jour du SoleilLeroy Neiman Jazz Horns
up, girl,' said Granny Weatherwax. 'It's a chilly night. It'd be good for your chest.'
She squinted at Magrat as the moon drifted out from behind its cloud.
'Here,' stop them disliking them in any way whatsoever.
Hwel patted him on the back as he sat down at the makeup table and started scraping off the thick grey sludge that was intended to make him look like a walking rock.
'Well done,' he said. 'The love scene – just right. And when you turned around and roared at the wizard I shouldn't think there was a dry seat in the house.'
'I know.'she said. 'Your hair looks a bit grubby. It looks as though you haven't washed it for a month.'Magrat burst into tears. The same moon shone down on the otherwise unremarkable town of Rham Nitz, some ninety miles from Lancre.Tomjon left the stage to thunderous applause at the concluding act of The Troll ofAnkh. A hundred people would go home tonight wondering whether trolls were really as bad as they had hitherto thought although, of course, this wouldn't actually
up, girl,' said Granny Weatherwax. 'It's a chilly night. It'd be good for your chest.'
She squinted at Magrat as the moon drifted out from behind its cloud.
'Here,' stop them disliking them in any way whatsoever.
Hwel patted him on the back as he sat down at the makeup table and started scraping off the thick grey sludge that was intended to make him look like a walking rock.
'Well done,' he said. 'The love scene – just right. And when you turned around and roared at the wizard I shouldn't think there was a dry seat in the house.'
'I know.'she said. 'Your hair looks a bit grubby. It looks as though you haven't washed it for a month.'Magrat burst into tears. The same moon shone down on the otherwise unremarkable town of Rham Nitz, some ninety miles from Lancre.Tomjon left the stage to thunderous applause at the concluding act of The Troll ofAnkh. A hundred people would go home tonight wondering whether trolls were really as bad as they had hitherto thought although, of course, this wouldn't actually
Tuesday 17 March 2009
Jean Fragonard The Swing
Jean Fragonard The SwingJean Fragonard The Fountain of LoveJoaquin Sorolla y Bastida Valencia's PortJoaquin Sorolla y Bastida The Pink RobeJoaquin Sorolla y Bastida Port of Valencia
'He's the one that has people's limbs torn off!' said Tomjon.
'How much do you owe him?' said Hwel.
'It's all right,' said Vitoller hurriedly, Tm keeping up the interest payments. More or less.'
'Yes, but how much does he want?'
'An arm and a leg.'
The dwarf and choice.'
Hwel frowned at the table. There were, he had to admit, some nice touches. Three witches was good. Two wouldn't be enough, four would be too many. They could be meddling with the destinies of mankind, and everything. Lots of smoke and green light. You could do a lot with three witches. It was surprising no-one had thought of it before.boy stared at him in horror. 'How could you have been so—''I did it for you two! Tomjon deserves a better stage, he doesn't want to go ruining his health sleeping in lattys and never knowing a home, and you, my man, you need somewhere settled, with all the proper things you ought to have, like trapdoors and . . . wave machines and so forth. You talked me into it, and I thought, they're right. It's no life out on the road, giving two performances a day to a bunch of farmers and going round with a hat afterwards, what sort of future is that? I thought, we've got to get a place somewhere, with comfortable seats for the gentry, people who don't throw potatoes at the stage. I said, blow the cost. I just wanted you to—''All right, all right!' shouted Hwel. 'I'll write it!''I'll act it,' said Tomjon.'I'm not forcing you, mind,' said Vitoller. 'It's your own
'He's the one that has people's limbs torn off!' said Tomjon.
'How much do you owe him?' said Hwel.
'It's all right,' said Vitoller hurriedly, Tm keeping up the interest payments. More or less.'
'Yes, but how much does he want?'
'An arm and a leg.'
The dwarf and choice.'
Hwel frowned at the table. There were, he had to admit, some nice touches. Three witches was good. Two wouldn't be enough, four would be too many. They could be meddling with the destinies of mankind, and everything. Lots of smoke and green light. You could do a lot with three witches. It was surprising no-one had thought of it before.boy stared at him in horror. 'How could you have been so—''I did it for you two! Tomjon deserves a better stage, he doesn't want to go ruining his health sleeping in lattys and never knowing a home, and you, my man, you need somewhere settled, with all the proper things you ought to have, like trapdoors and . . . wave machines and so forth. You talked me into it, and I thought, they're right. It's no life out on the road, giving two performances a day to a bunch of farmers and going round with a hat afterwards, what sort of future is that? I thought, we've got to get a place somewhere, with comfortable seats for the gentry, people who don't throw potatoes at the stage. I said, blow the cost. I just wanted you to—''All right, all right!' shouted Hwel. 'I'll write it!''I'll act it,' said Tomjon.'I'm not forcing you, mind,' said Vitoller. 'It's your own
Monday 16 March 2009
Thomas Kinkade Home For Christmas
Thomas Kinkade Home For ChristmasThomas Kinkade Elegant Evening at BiltmoreThomas Kinkade DawsonThomas Kinkade CourageThomas Kinkade City by the Bay
Granny looked closer. In the centre of those streaming eyes something else looked back at her.
'I'm going to give you no cause,' she said quietly. 'But it would be better for you if you left this country. Abdicate, or whatever.'
'In favour of whom?' said the duchess icily. 'A witch?'
'I won't,' said the duke.
'What did you say?'
The duke pulled himself upright, brushed some of the dust off his clothes, and looked Granny full in the face. The coldness in the centre of his eyes was larger.
'I said I .
'If you defeat me by magic, magic will rule,' said the duke. 'And you can't do it. And any king raised with your help would be under your power. Hag-ridden, I might say. That which magic rules, magic destroys. It would destroy you, too. You know it. Ha. Ha.'won't,' he said. 'Do you think a bit of simple conjuring would frighten me? I am the king by right of conquest, and you cannot change it. It is as simple as that, witch.'He moved closer.Granny stared at him. She hadn't faced anything like this before. The man was clearly mad, but at the heart of his madness was a dreadful cold sanity, a core of pure interstellar ice in the centre of the furnace. She'd thought him weak under a thin shell of strength, but it went a lot further than that. Somewhere deep inside his mind, somewhere beyond the event horizon of rationality, the sheer pressure of insanity had hammered his madness into something harder than diamond
Granny looked closer. In the centre of those streaming eyes something else looked back at her.
'I'm going to give you no cause,' she said quietly. 'But it would be better for you if you left this country. Abdicate, or whatever.'
'In favour of whom?' said the duchess icily. 'A witch?'
'I won't,' said the duke.
'What did you say?'
The duke pulled himself upright, brushed some of the dust off his clothes, and looked Granny full in the face. The coldness in the centre of his eyes was larger.
'I said I .
'If you defeat me by magic, magic will rule,' said the duke. 'And you can't do it. And any king raised with your help would be under your power. Hag-ridden, I might say. That which magic rules, magic destroys. It would destroy you, too. You know it. Ha. Ha.'won't,' he said. 'Do you think a bit of simple conjuring would frighten me? I am the king by right of conquest, and you cannot change it. It is as simple as that, witch.'He moved closer.Granny stared at him. She hadn't faced anything like this before. The man was clearly mad, but at the heart of his madness was a dreadful cold sanity, a core of pure interstellar ice in the centre of the furnace. She'd thought him weak under a thin shell of strength, but it went a lot further than that. Somewhere deep inside his mind, somewhere beyond the event horizon of rationality, the sheer pressure of insanity had hammered his madness into something harder than diamond
Sunday 15 March 2009
Guido Reni Salome with the head of St John the Baptist
Guido Reni Salome with the head of St John the BaptistGuido Reni CleopatraGuido Reni Reni CharityFrancois Boucher The Setting of the SunFrancois Boucher The Rest on the Flight into Egypt
Nanny Ogg also kept a cat, a huge one-eyed grey torn called Greebo who divided his time between sleeping, eating and fathering the most enormous incestuous feline tribe. He opened his eye like a yellow window into Hell when he heard Granny's broomstick land awkwardly on the back lawn. With the instinct of his kind he the effect she had tried to plait violets and cowslips in it. The result was not all she had hoped. It gave the impression that a window box had fallen on her head.
'Good evening,' said Granny.
'Well met by moonlight,' said Magrat politely. 'Merry meet. A star shines on—'
'Wotcha,' said Nanny Ogg. Magrat winced.
Granny sat down and started removing the pins that nailed her tall hat to her bun. Finally the sight of Magrat dawned on her.recognised Granny as an inveterate cat-hater and oozed gently under a chair.Magrat was already seated primly by the fire.It is one of the few unbendable rules of magic that its practitioners cannot change their own appearance for any length of time. Their bodies develop a kind of morphic inertia and gradually return to their original shape. But Magrat tried. Every morning her hair was long, thick and blond, but by the evening it had always returned to its normal worried frizz. To ameliorate
Nanny Ogg also kept a cat, a huge one-eyed grey torn called Greebo who divided his time between sleeping, eating and fathering the most enormous incestuous feline tribe. He opened his eye like a yellow window into Hell when he heard Granny's broomstick land awkwardly on the back lawn. With the instinct of his kind he the effect she had tried to plait violets and cowslips in it. The result was not all she had hoped. It gave the impression that a window box had fallen on her head.
'Good evening,' said Granny.
'Well met by moonlight,' said Magrat politely. 'Merry meet. A star shines on—'
'Wotcha,' said Nanny Ogg. Magrat winced.
Granny sat down and started removing the pins that nailed her tall hat to her bun. Finally the sight of Magrat dawned on her.recognised Granny as an inveterate cat-hater and oozed gently under a chair.Magrat was already seated primly by the fire.It is one of the few unbendable rules of magic that its practitioners cannot change their own appearance for any length of time. Their bodies develop a kind of morphic inertia and gradually return to their original shape. But Magrat tried. Every morning her hair was long, thick and blond, but by the evening it had always returned to its normal worried frizz. To ameliorate
Thursday 12 March 2009
Leroy Neiman Washington Square Park
Leroy Neiman Washington Square ParkLeroy Neiman The Brooklyn BridgeLeroy Neiman Roulette II
you think something bad has happened to him?'
He gave her a blank look. 'Don't be bloody stupid,' he said, 'he's Death.' He scratched his skin. He felt hot and dry and way.'
Mort dragged on his breeches, shrugged into his shirt and hurried out towards Death's study with Ysabell on his heels. Albert was in there, jumping from foot to foot like a duck on a griddle. When Mort came in the look on the old man's face could almost have been gratitude.
Mort saw with amazement that there were tears in his eyes.itchy.'But he's never been away this long! Not even when there was that big plague in Pseudopolis! I mean, he has to be here in the mornings to do the books and work out the nodes and —'Mort grabbed her arms. 'All right, all right,' he said, as soothingly as he could manage. 'I'm sure everything's okay. Just settle down, I'll go and check . . . why have you got your eyes shut?''Mort, please put some clothes on,' said Ysabell in a tight little voice.Mort looked down.'Sorry,' he said meekly, 'I didn't realise . . . Who put me to bed?''I did,' she said. 'But I looked the other
you think something bad has happened to him?'
He gave her a blank look. 'Don't be bloody stupid,' he said, 'he's Death.' He scratched his skin. He felt hot and dry and way.'
Mort dragged on his breeches, shrugged into his shirt and hurried out towards Death's study with Ysabell on his heels. Albert was in there, jumping from foot to foot like a duck on a griddle. When Mort came in the look on the old man's face could almost have been gratitude.
Mort saw with amazement that there were tears in his eyes.itchy.'But he's never been away this long! Not even when there was that big plague in Pseudopolis! I mean, he has to be here in the mornings to do the books and work out the nodes and —'Mort grabbed her arms. 'All right, all right,' he said, as soothingly as he could manage. 'I'm sure everything's okay. Just settle down, I'll go and check . . . why have you got your eyes shut?''Mort, please put some clothes on,' said Ysabell in a tight little voice.Mort looked down.'Sorry,' he said meekly, 'I didn't realise . . . Who put me to bed?''I did,' she said. 'But I looked the other
William Blake Songs of Innocence
William Blake Songs of InnocenceVincent van Gogh View of Arles with IrisesVincent van Gogh The Old Mill
'Without vertically, wisely the cochineal emperor goes forth at teatime; at evening the mollusc is silent among the almond blossom.'
'Yes?' said Keli, 'Look, take another card.'
'This one's Death as well,' said Keli.
'Did you put the other one back?'
'No. Shall I take another card?'respectfully. 'What does that mean?''Unless you're a mollusc, probably not a lot,' said Cutwell. 'I think perhaps it lost something in translation.''Are you sure you know how to do this?''Let's try the cards,' said Cutwell hurriedly, fanning them out. 'Pick a card. Any card.''It's Death,'said Keli.'Ah. Well. Of course, the Death card doesn't actually mean death in all circumstances,' Cutwell said quickly.'You mean, it doesn't mean death in those circumstances where the subject is getting over-excited and you're too embarrassed to tell the truth, hmm?'
'Without vertically, wisely the cochineal emperor goes forth at teatime; at evening the mollusc is silent among the almond blossom.'
'Yes?' said Keli, 'Look, take another card.'
'This one's Death as well,' said Keli.
'Did you put the other one back?'
'No. Shall I take another card?'respectfully. 'What does that mean?''Unless you're a mollusc, probably not a lot,' said Cutwell. 'I think perhaps it lost something in translation.''Are you sure you know how to do this?''Let's try the cards,' said Cutwell hurriedly, fanning them out. 'Pick a card. Any card.''It's Death,'said Keli.'Ah. Well. Of course, the Death card doesn't actually mean death in all circumstances,' Cutwell said quickly.'You mean, it doesn't mean death in those circumstances where the subject is getting over-excited and you're too embarrassed to tell the truth, hmm?'
Wednesday 11 March 2009
Marc Chagall The Fiddler
Marc Chagall The FiddlerPaul Gauguin AreareaGeorges Seurat Sunday Afternoon on the Island of la Grande Jatte
walk away.
Mort a lectern, poring over a map. He looked at Mort as if he wasn't entirely there.
YOU HAVEN'T HEARD OF THE BAY OF MANTE, HAVE YOU? he said.
'No, sir,' said Mort. FAMOUS SHIPWRECK THERE.
'Was there?'
THERE WILL BE, said Death, IF I CAN FIND THE DAMN PLACE.worked steadily through the sixteenths, eighths, quarters and thirds, wheeling the barrow out through the yard to the heap by the apple tree.Death's , neat and well-tended. It was also very, very black. The grass was black. The flowers were black. Black apples gleamed among the black leaves of a black apple tree. Even the air looked inky.Alter a while Mort thought he could see – no, he couldn't possibly imagine he could see . . . different colours of black.That's to say, not simply very dark tones of red and green and whatever, but real shades of black. A whole spectrum of colours, all different and all – well, black. He tipped out the last load, put the barrow away, and went back to the house.ENTER.Death was standing behind
walk away.
Mort a lectern, poring over a map. He looked at Mort as if he wasn't entirely there.
YOU HAVEN'T HEARD OF THE BAY OF MANTE, HAVE YOU? he said.
'No, sir,' said Mort. FAMOUS SHIPWRECK THERE.
'Was there?'
THERE WILL BE, said Death, IF I CAN FIND THE DAMN PLACE.worked steadily through the sixteenths, eighths, quarters and thirds, wheeling the barrow out through the yard to the heap by the apple tree.Death's , neat and well-tended. It was also very, very black. The grass was black. The flowers were black. Black apples gleamed among the black leaves of a black apple tree. Even the air looked inky.Alter a while Mort thought he could see – no, he couldn't possibly imagine he could see . . . different colours of black.That's to say, not simply very dark tones of red and green and whatever, but real shades of black. A whole spectrum of colours, all different and all – well, black. He tipped out the last load, put the barrow away, and went back to the house.ENTER.Death was standing behind
Monday 9 March 2009
Gustave Courbet Woman with a Parrot
Gustave Courbet Woman with a ParrotMary Cassatt Children Playing On The BeachMary Cassatt Young Mother Sewing
Granny Weatherwax peered through the soaking darkness. She could hear a roaring and could dimly make out the white crests of floodwater. There was also the distinctive river smell of the Ankh, which suggested that several armies had used it first as a urinal and then as a sepulchre.
Cutangle "There may be something else we can do -" he began, and was interrupted by a zip of lightning and another roll of thunder.
"I said maybe there's something -" he began again.
Granny Weatherwax peered through the soaking darkness. She could hear a roaring and could dimly make out the white crests of floodwater. There was also the distinctive river smell of the Ankh, which suggested that several armies had used it first as a urinal and then as a sepulchre.
Cutangle "There may be something else we can do -" he began, and was interrupted by a zip of lightning and another roll of thunder.
"I said maybe there's something -" he began again.
Alphonse Maria Mucha JOB
Alphonse Maria Mucha JOBAlphonse Maria Mucha GismondaPierre Auguste Renoir The Umbrellas
No! There is wild country around us, robbers and - things."
Esk nodded brightly. "That's settled, then," she said. "I don't mind sleeping in the fleeces. And I can pay my way. I can do -" Shedistillation using the bifold or triple alembic, the making of varnishes, glazes, creams, zuumchats and punes, the rendering of waxes, the manufacture of candles, the proper selection of seeds, roots and cuttings, and most preparations from the Eighty Marvellous Herbs; I can spin, card, rett, Hallow and weave on the hand, frame, harp and Noble looms and I can knit if people start the wool on for me, I can read soil and rock, do carpentry up to the three-way mortise and tenon, predict hesitated; her unfinished sentence hung like a little curl of crystal in the air while discretion made a successful bid for control of her tongue. "- helpful things," she finished lamely. She was aware that Amschat was looking slightly sideways at his senior wife, who was sewing by the stove. By Zoon tradition she wore nothing but black. Granny would have thoroughly approved. "What sort of helpful things?" he asked. "Washing and sweeping, yesno?" "If you like," said Esk, "or
No! There is wild country around us, robbers and - things."
Esk nodded brightly. "That's settled, then," she said. "I don't mind sleeping in the fleeces. And I can pay my way. I can do -" Shedistillation using the bifold or triple alembic, the making of varnishes, glazes, creams, zuumchats and punes, the rendering of waxes, the manufacture of candles, the proper selection of seeds, roots and cuttings, and most preparations from the Eighty Marvellous Herbs; I can spin, card, rett, Hallow and weave on the hand, frame, harp and Noble looms and I can knit if people start the wool on for me, I can read soil and rock, do carpentry up to the three-way mortise and tenon, predict hesitated; her unfinished sentence hung like a little curl of crystal in the air while discretion made a successful bid for control of her tongue. "- helpful things," she finished lamely. She was aware that Amschat was looking slightly sideways at his senior wife, who was sewing by the stove. By Zoon tradition she wore nothing but black. Granny would have thoroughly approved. "What sort of helpful things?" he asked. "Washing and sweeping, yesno?" "If you like," said Esk, "or
Thursday 5 March 2009
George Frederick Watts Charity
George Frederick Watts CharityFrancisco de Goya Nude MajaFrancisco de Goya Clothed Maja
Granny Weatherwax didn't have to follow the footprints now. She aimed herself for the distant flashes of weird light, the strange swishing and thumping, and the howls of pain and terror. A couple of wolves bolted past her with their ears flattened in grim determination to have it away on their paws no matter what stood in their way. There was also a small heap in the centre of the circle, curled tightly up inside itself. Granny knelt down with some effort and reached out gently.
The staff moved. It was little more than a tremble, but her hand stopped just before it touched There was the crackle of breaking branches. Something big and heavy landed in a fir tree by Granny and crashed, whimpering, into the snow. Another wolf passed her in a flat trajectory at about head height and bounced off a tree-trunk. There was silence. Granny pushed her way between the snow-covered branches. She could see that the snow was flattened in a white circle. A few wolves lay at its edges, either dead or wisely deciding to make no move. The staff stood upright in the snow and Granny got the feeling it was turning to face her as she walked carefully past it.
Granny Weatherwax didn't have to follow the footprints now. She aimed herself for the distant flashes of weird light, the strange swishing and thumping, and the howls of pain and terror. A couple of wolves bolted past her with their ears flattened in grim determination to have it away on their paws no matter what stood in their way. There was also a small heap in the centre of the circle, curled tightly up inside itself. Granny knelt down with some effort and reached out gently.
The staff moved. It was little more than a tremble, but her hand stopped just before it touched There was the crackle of breaking branches. Something big and heavy landed in a fir tree by Granny and crashed, whimpering, into the snow. Another wolf passed her in a flat trajectory at about head height and bounced off a tree-trunk. There was silence. Granny pushed her way between the snow-covered branches. She could see that the snow was flattened in a white circle. A few wolves lay at its edges, either dead or wisely deciding to make no move. The staff stood upright in the snow and Granny got the feeling it was turning to face her as she walked carefully past it.
Wednesday 4 March 2009
Wassily Kandinsky Red Oval
Wassily Kandinsky Red OvalVincent van Gogh Two CypressesEdmund Blair Leighton Stitching the StandardFrancois Boucher Nude on a Sofa
'Just clearing my throat,' said Rincewind, and grinned. He had put a lot of thought into that grin. It was the sort of grin people use when they stare at your left ear and tell you in an urgent tone of voice that they are being spied on by?'
Weems picked up the hammer and hit the gong so hard that it spun right around on its hanger and fell off.
They waited in silence. Then with a wet clinking sound a chain sprang out of the water and pulled taut against an iron peg set into the bank. Eventually the slow flat shape of the ferry emerged from the mist, its hooded ferryman heaving on a big wheel set in its centre as he winched his way towards the shore.
The ferry's flat bottom grated on the gravel, and the hooded figure leaned against the wheel panting. secret agents from the next galaxy. It was not a grin to inspire confidence. More horrible grins had probably been seen, but only on the sort of grinner that is orange with black stripes, has a long tail and hangs around in jungles looking for victims to grin at.'Wipe that off,' said Herrena, trotting up.Where the track led down to the river bank there was a crude jetty and a big bronze gong.'It'll summon the ferryman,' said Herrena. 'If we cross here we can cut off a big bend in the river. Might even make it to a town tonight.'Weems looked doubtful. The sun was getting fat and red, and the mists were beginning to thicken.'Or maybe you want to spend the night this side of the water
'Just clearing my throat,' said Rincewind, and grinned. He had put a lot of thought into that grin. It was the sort of grin people use when they stare at your left ear and tell you in an urgent tone of voice that they are being spied on by?'
Weems picked up the hammer and hit the gong so hard that it spun right around on its hanger and fell off.
They waited in silence. Then with a wet clinking sound a chain sprang out of the water and pulled taut against an iron peg set into the bank. Eventually the slow flat shape of the ferry emerged from the mist, its hooded ferryman heaving on a big wheel set in its centre as he winched his way towards the shore.
The ferry's flat bottom grated on the gravel, and the hooded figure leaned against the wheel panting. secret agents from the next galaxy. It was not a grin to inspire confidence. More horrible grins had probably been seen, but only on the sort of grinner that is orange with black stripes, has a long tail and hangs around in jungles looking for victims to grin at.'Wipe that off,' said Herrena, trotting up.Where the track led down to the river bank there was a crude jetty and a big bronze gong.'It'll summon the ferryman,' said Herrena. 'If we cross here we can cut off a big bend in the river. Might even make it to a town tonight.'Weems looked doubtful. The sun was getting fat and red, and the mists were beginning to thicken.'Or maybe you want to spend the night this side of the water
Tuesday 3 March 2009
Jean Fragonard The Fountain of Love
Jean Fragonard The Fountain of LoveJoaquin Sorolla y Bastida Valencia's PortJoaquin Sorolla y Bastida The Pink RobeJoaquin Sorolla y Bastida Port of Valencia
, well,' said Twoflower enthusiastically, 'apparently there's this ceremony dating back for thousands of years to celebrate the, um, rebirth of the moon, or possibly the sun. No, I'm pretty certain it's the moon. Apparently it's very solemn and beautiful and invested with a quiet dignity.'
Rincewind shivered. He always began to worry when Twoflower started to talk like that. At least he hadn't said 'But—'
'Don't offer to buy the stones.'
'But I-'
'Don't start talking about quaint native folkways.'
'I thought—'
'Really don't try to
'picturesque' or 'quaint' yet; Rincewind had never found a satisfactory translation for those words, but the nearest he had been able to come was 'trouble'.'I wish the Luggage was here,' said the tourist regretfully. 'I could use my picture box. It sounds very quaint and picturesque.'The crowd stirred expectantly. Apparently things were about to start.'Look,' said Rincewind urgently. 'Druids are priests. You must remember that. Don't do anything to upset them.'
, well,' said Twoflower enthusiastically, 'apparently there's this ceremony dating back for thousands of years to celebrate the, um, rebirth of the moon, or possibly the sun. No, I'm pretty certain it's the moon. Apparently it's very solemn and beautiful and invested with a quiet dignity.'
Rincewind shivered. He always began to worry when Twoflower started to talk like that. At least he hadn't said 'But—'
'Don't offer to buy the stones.'
'But I-'
'Don't start talking about quaint native folkways.'
'I thought—'
'Really don't try to
'picturesque' or 'quaint' yet; Rincewind had never found a satisfactory translation for those words, but the nearest he had been able to come was 'trouble'.'I wish the Luggage was here,' said the tourist regretfully. 'I could use my picture box. It sounds very quaint and picturesque.'The crowd stirred expectantly. Apparently things were about to start.'Look,' said Rincewind urgently. 'Druids are priests. You must remember that. Don't do anything to upset them.'
Monday 2 March 2009
Franz Marc Rehe im Schnee
Franz Marc Rehe im SchneeFranz Marc Reh im KlostergartenFranz Marc Pferd in LandschaftFranz Marc Kühe
sealed beyond the skills of any earthly locksmith.
Gling, clang, tang went the bells along the Circumfence in the moonlit, rimfall-roaring night.
Terton, lengthman of the 45th Length, hadn't heard such a clashing since the night a giant kraken had been swept into the the ceiling for a few minutes, and trying hard not to think of great long tentacles and pond-sized eyes, Terton blew out the lantern and opened the door a crack.
Something was coming along the Fence, in giant loping bounds that covered metres at a time. It loomed up at him and for a moment Terton saw something rectangular, multi-legged, shaggy with seaweed and - although it had absolutely no features from Fence five years ago. He leaned out of his hut, which for the lack of any convenient eyot on this Length had been built on wooden piles driven into the sea bed, and stared into the darkness. Once or twice he thought he could see movement, far off. Strictly speaking, he should row out to see what was causing the din. But here in the clammy darkness it didn't seem like an astoundingly good idea, so he slammed the door, wrapped some sacking around the madly jangling bells, and tried to get back to sleep.That didn't work, because even the top strand of the Fence was thrumming now, as if something big and heavy was bouncing on it. After staring at
sealed beyond the skills of any earthly locksmith.
Gling, clang, tang went the bells along the Circumfence in the moonlit, rimfall-roaring night.
Terton, lengthman of the 45th Length, hadn't heard such a clashing since the night a giant kraken had been swept into the the ceiling for a few minutes, and trying hard not to think of great long tentacles and pond-sized eyes, Terton blew out the lantern and opened the door a crack.
Something was coming along the Fence, in giant loping bounds that covered metres at a time. It loomed up at him and for a moment Terton saw something rectangular, multi-legged, shaggy with seaweed and - although it had absolutely no features from Fence five years ago. He leaned out of his hut, which for the lack of any convenient eyot on this Length had been built on wooden piles driven into the sea bed, and stared into the darkness. Once or twice he thought he could see movement, far off. Strictly speaking, he should row out to see what was causing the din. But here in the clammy darkness it didn't seem like an astoundingly good idea, so he slammed the door, wrapped some sacking around the madly jangling bells, and tried to get back to sleep.That didn't work, because even the top strand of the Fence was thrumming now, as if something big and heavy was bouncing on it. After staring at
Sunday 1 March 2009
George Stubbs Lion Devouring a Horse
George Stubbs Lion Devouring a HorseUnknown Artist Sea of Cortez Cabo San LucasLeroy Neiman Washington Square ParkLeroy Neiman The Brooklyn Bridge
allow for the big man's unexpected agility. As the ground drifted up he saw the barbarian standing stock still, chest heaving, arms hanging loosely by his sides. An easy target. As his dragon swooped away Lio!rt turned his head, expecting to see a dreadfully big cinder. There was nothing there. Puzzled, Lio!rt turned back.
Hrun, Lio!rt lost consciousness the dragon winked out of existence. Liessa hurried across the grass and helped Hrun stagger to his feet. He blinked at her.
"What happened? What happened?" he said thickly.
"That was really fantastic," she said. "The way you turned that somersault in mid-air and everything."
"Yah, but what happened?"heaving himself over the dragon's shoulder scales with one hand and beating out his flaming hair with the other, presented himself to his view. Lio!rt's hand flew to his dagger, but pain had sharpened Hrun's normally excellent reflexes to needle point. A backhand blow hammered into the dragonlord's wrist, sending the dagger arcing away towards the ground, and another caught the man full on the chin.The dragon, carrying the weight of two men, was only a few yards above the grass. This turned out to be fortunate, because at the moment
allow for the big man's unexpected agility. As the ground drifted up he saw the barbarian standing stock still, chest heaving, arms hanging loosely by his sides. An easy target. As his dragon swooped away Lio!rt turned his head, expecting to see a dreadfully big cinder. There was nothing there. Puzzled, Lio!rt turned back.
Hrun, Lio!rt lost consciousness the dragon winked out of existence. Liessa hurried across the grass and helped Hrun stagger to his feet. He blinked at her.
"What happened? What happened?" he said thickly.
"That was really fantastic," she said. "The way you turned that somersault in mid-air and everything."
"Yah, but what happened?"heaving himself over the dragon's shoulder scales with one hand and beating out his flaming hair with the other, presented himself to his view. Lio!rt's hand flew to his dagger, but pain had sharpened Hrun's normally excellent reflexes to needle point. A backhand blow hammered into the dragonlord's wrist, sending the dagger arcing away towards the ground, and another caught the man full on the chin.The dragon, carrying the weight of two men, was only a few yards above the grass. This turned out to be fortunate, because at the moment
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