Jack Vettriano Just the Way it isJack Vettriano Just Another Saturday NightJack Vettriano Just Another Day
talk a lot about ''watching what we eat,'' but if you never gave a thought to what you ate and instead watched only what you drank, you could probably cut 450 , nearly a pound of fat loss a week!) That's what a study from the University of North Carolina found. Americans today drink about 192 gallons of liquid a year—or about 2 liters a day. To put it into perspective, this is nearly twice as many calories as we did 30 years ago.
When confronted with the growing tide of calories from sweetened beverages, the first response is, “Why not just drink diet soda?” Well, for a few reasons:
Just because diet soda is low in calories doesn't mean it can't lead to weight gain.It may have only 5 or fewer calories per serving, but emerging research suggests that consuming sugary-tasting beverages--even if they're artificially sweetened--may lead to a high preference for sweetness overall. That means sweeter (and more caloric) cereal, bread, dessert--everything.
Tuesday, December 30, 2008
Monday, December 29, 2008
Munier La Baigneuse The Bather
Munier La Baigneuse The BatherMunier Her Best FriendMunier A Special Moment IPissarro The Old Market at Rouen
get what they expected as, in the absence of PRDM16, the brown fat cells of mice turned into muscle cells. The team was also able to reverse the process, turning cells differentiating into muscle cells into brown fat. Using a technique to trace cell . Reality is much more complicated, and our best description of the strong force—quantum chromodynamics (QCD)—requires incredibly powerful computers to have any hope of accurately modeling even a "simple" hadron. a technique known as lattice quantum chromodynamics, researchers in Europe have predicted the mass of a proton using only the theory behind the strong force. The fact that their computed mass is within a few percent of the experimental answer suggests that QCD properly describes linages, the team found that muscle and brown fat cells in mice were related, but neither was related to white fat cells. * Computing the Basics: While protons, neutrons, and other light hadrons are considered basic particles, the mathematics describing their innards is incredibly complex. The simple picture of the inside of any hadron is three quarks that exchange gluons, the messenger particle of the strong nuclear force, among themselves
get what they expected as, in the absence of PRDM16, the brown fat cells of mice turned into muscle cells. The team was also able to reverse the process, turning cells differentiating into muscle cells into brown fat. Using a technique to trace cell . Reality is much more complicated, and our best description of the strong force—quantum chromodynamics (QCD)—requires incredibly powerful computers to have any hope of accurately modeling even a "simple" hadron. a technique known as lattice quantum chromodynamics, researchers in Europe have predicted the mass of a proton using only the theory behind the strong force. The fact that their computed mass is within a few percent of the experimental answer suggests that QCD properly describes linages, the team found that muscle and brown fat cells in mice were related, but neither was related to white fat cells. * Computing the Basics: While protons, neutrons, and other light hadrons are considered basic particles, the mathematics describing their innards is incredibly complex. The simple picture of the inside of any hadron is three quarks that exchange gluons, the messenger particle of the strong nuclear force, among themselves
Tuesday, December 23, 2008
Monsted A Boat Moored On A Quiet Lak
Monsted A Boat Moored On A Quiet LakMonsted On The Snowy PathMonsted The Path On The River's EdgeMonsted A Forest Stream
No birds made their conservatory. Neither a flock of parrots nor a single sparrow.Plummeting in front of Ethan but then swooping high again, the colorful birds passed without one screech or squawk, and became white doves on the rise.This was the phantom in the steam-clouded mirror. This was the impossible set of bells in his hand outside the flower the air, toward him, past him, with a [576] thrum that both exhilarated and frightened him, that plucked notes of wonder from his heart but also struck hard the jungle-drum terror of the primitive within.They flew. He ran. They led. He followed. “Wait,” Hazard told the paramedics as they came quickly to the bed in spite of the vile stink, as they stood wide-eyed and gaping in spite of all the horrors that they had seen day after day in the conduct of their vital work.“Boy,” Dalton croaked.“What boy?” Hazard asked, having taken the withered man’s hand once more, holding it in both of his.“Ten, “said Dalton.“Ten boys?”“Ten ... years.”shop. This was the heavy fragrance of Broadway roses in his study when no roses had been there, the precious voice of his lost wife speaking of ladybugs in the white room. This was the hand of some supernatural force held out to him and eager to lead.After spiraling high in a frenzied flapping, down again came the swarming doves, feathering
No birds made their conservatory. Neither a flock of parrots nor a single sparrow.Plummeting in front of Ethan but then swooping high again, the colorful birds passed without one screech or squawk, and became white doves on the rise.This was the phantom in the steam-clouded mirror. This was the impossible set of bells in his hand outside the flower the air, toward him, past him, with a [576] thrum that both exhilarated and frightened him, that plucked notes of wonder from his heart but also struck hard the jungle-drum terror of the primitive within.They flew. He ran. They led. He followed. “Wait,” Hazard told the paramedics as they came quickly to the bed in spite of the vile stink, as they stood wide-eyed and gaping in spite of all the horrors that they had seen day after day in the conduct of their vital work.“Boy,” Dalton croaked.“What boy?” Hazard asked, having taken the withered man’s hand once more, holding it in both of his.“Ten, “said Dalton.“Ten boys?”“Ten ... years.”shop. This was the heavy fragrance of Broadway roses in his study when no roses had been there, the precious voice of his lost wife speaking of ladybugs in the white room. This was the hand of some supernatural force held out to him and eager to lead.After spiraling high in a frenzied flapping, down again came the swarming doves, feathering
Sunday, December 21, 2008
Rothko No 2031954
Rothko No 2031954Rothko No 14 White and Greens in BlueRothko No 14 White and Greens in BlueRothko No 12 c1951
Montana, he ought to start thinking like a Marine and behaving like one, sooner rather than later. A Marine wouldn’t be spooked by the darkness beyond a window. A Marine would sneer at that darkness and boldly piss on it. He’d open the window.Besides, the longer he didn’t ask anyone about her, the longer she would be his, and his alone. As soon as he found out who she was, she could no longer be his make-believe mom.Something rapped against a window.Fric sprang from the chair, dropping the photo.The face at the window was hooded and hideous, but the hood was rain gear, and the face belonged to one of the security guards, Mr. Roma. Because he had a long upper lip and a small nose, Mr. Roma could pull his lip over his nose, and it would stay that way, so his face looked first, of course, so as not to mess up the glass.[490] Fric wasn’t up to that level of Marine confidence just yet. Instead, he sat at the table, wishing the minutes would speed past.He withdrew the photograph from a back pocket, unfolded it, and stared at the pretty lady with the special smile, distracting himself from the watching night. His make-believe mom.As yet he had not done as Mysterious Caller had suggested, had not asked anyone if they knew who this woman might be.For one thing, he hadn’t been able to concoct a convincing story to explain either the origin of her photo or why he was so interested in knowing her identity. He was a lousy liar
Montana, he ought to start thinking like a Marine and behaving like one, sooner rather than later. A Marine wouldn’t be spooked by the darkness beyond a window. A Marine would sneer at that darkness and boldly piss on it. He’d open the window.Besides, the longer he didn’t ask anyone about her, the longer she would be his, and his alone. As soon as he found out who she was, she could no longer be his make-believe mom.Something rapped against a window.Fric sprang from the chair, dropping the photo.The face at the window was hooded and hideous, but the hood was rain gear, and the face belonged to one of the security guards, Mr. Roma. Because he had a long upper lip and a small nose, Mr. Roma could pull his lip over his nose, and it would stay that way, so his face looked first, of course, so as not to mess up the glass.[490] Fric wasn’t up to that level of Marine confidence just yet. Instead, he sat at the table, wishing the minutes would speed past.He withdrew the photograph from a back pocket, unfolded it, and stared at the pretty lady with the special smile, distracting himself from the watching night. His make-believe mom.As yet he had not done as Mysterious Caller had suggested, had not asked anyone if they knew who this woman might be.For one thing, he hadn’t been able to concoct a convincing story to explain either the origin of her photo or why he was so interested in knowing her identity. He was a lousy liar
Friday, December 19, 2008
Vincent van Gogh Orchard in Blossom painting
Vincent van Gogh Orchard in Blossom paintingVincent van Gogh Le Moulin a Poivre paintingVincent van Gogh Landscape with Olive Trees painting
drawer exactly as Hazard found it. Sam Kesselman, the detective assigned to Mina Reynerd’s murder, would no doubt review these same checks when he recovered from the flu, returned to work after Christmas, and read the dead actor’s partial screenplay.If they waited for Kesselman, however, Channing Manheim might by then be dead. And Ethan, too.They needed to look through only those checks written in the first eight months of the year, prior to Minahe’d attended a pair of three-day weekend conferences on acting, another on -day seminar on publicity and self-promotion, and two university-extension courses in American literature.“Six possibilities,” Hazard said. “I guess we’ve got a busy day ahead of us.”“The sooner we check them out, the better,” Ethan agreed. “But Manheim doesn’t return from Florida until Thursday afternoon.”“So? Reynerd’s murder.Hazard took four months’ worth of checks. He pushed four packets across the table to Ethan.In the screenplay, an out-of-work and underappreciated actor had taken an acting class at a university, where he’d met a professor with whom he had , a tuition check might suggest an institution of higher learning at which the search should begin.Soon they discovered that Rolf Reynerd had been a fiend for continuing education. His entries on the memo line of each check were meticulous and helpful. In the first eight months of the year, ”
drawer exactly as Hazard found it. Sam Kesselman, the detective assigned to Mina Reynerd’s murder, would no doubt review these same checks when he recovered from the flu, returned to work after Christmas, and read the dead actor’s partial screenplay.If they waited for Kesselman, however, Channing Manheim might by then be dead. And Ethan, too.They needed to look through only those checks written in the first eight months of the year, prior to Minahe’d attended a pair of three-day weekend conferences on acting, another on -day seminar on publicity and self-promotion, and two university-extension courses in American literature.“Six possibilities,” Hazard said. “I guess we’ve got a busy day ahead of us.”“The sooner we check them out, the better,” Ethan agreed. “But Manheim doesn’t return from Florida until Thursday afternoon.”“So? Reynerd’s murder.Hazard took four months’ worth of checks. He pushed four packets across the table to Ethan.In the screenplay, an out-of-work and underappreciated actor had taken an acting class at a university, where he’d met a professor with whom he had , a tuition check might suggest an institution of higher learning at which the search should begin.Soon they discovered that Rolf Reynerd had been a fiend for continuing education. His entries on the memo line of each check were meticulous and helpful. In the first eight months of the year, ”
Tuesday, December 16, 2008
Thomas Kinkade Stillwater Cottage painting
Thomas Kinkade Stillwater Cottage paintingVincent van Gogh Wheat Fields paintingEdward Hopper Summer Evening painting
walked two blocks through the cold rain-eyed freak.Windier than Monday’s storm, this one snapped weak fronds off queen palms, tumbled an empty plastic trash can down the center of the street, tore a window awning and loudly flapped the loose length of forest-green canvas.Melaleucas lashed their willowy branches as though trying to whip houses with raised front porches and classic single-story California bungalows that borrowed from many styles of architecture. They were maintained with evident pride, enhanced with brick walkways, picket fencesthemselves to pieces. Stone pines were stripped of dead brown needles that bristled through the churning air and gave it the power to prick, to blind.As Corky walked, a dead rat bobbed past him on the racing water in the gutter. The lolling head rolled toward him, revealing one dark empty socket and one milky eye.The grand and lovely spectacle made him wish that he had time to join in the celebration of disorder, to spread some prankish chaos of his own. He longed to poison a few trees, stuff mailboxes with hate literature, spread nails under the tires of parked cars, set a house afire. ...This was a busy day of a different kind, however, and he had [352] numerous scheduled tasks to which he must attend. Monday he had been a devilish rascal, an amusing imp of nihilism, but this day he must be a serious soldier of anarchy.The neighborhood was an eclectic mix of two-story Craftsman
walked two blocks through the cold rain-eyed freak.Windier than Monday’s storm, this one snapped weak fronds off queen palms, tumbled an empty plastic trash can down the center of the street, tore a window awning and loudly flapped the loose length of forest-green canvas.Melaleucas lashed their willowy branches as though trying to whip houses with raised front porches and classic single-story California bungalows that borrowed from many styles of architecture. They were maintained with evident pride, enhanced with brick walkways, picket fencesthemselves to pieces. Stone pines were stripped of dead brown needles that bristled through the churning air and gave it the power to prick, to blind.As Corky walked, a dead rat bobbed past him on the racing water in the gutter. The lolling head rolled toward him, revealing one dark empty socket and one milky eye.The grand and lovely spectacle made him wish that he had time to join in the celebration of disorder, to spread some prankish chaos of his own. He longed to poison a few trees, stuff mailboxes with hate literature, spread nails under the tires of parked cars, set a house afire. ...This was a busy day of a different kind, however, and he had [352] numerous scheduled tasks to which he must attend. Monday he had been a devilish rascal, an amusing imp of nihilism, but this day he must be a serious soldier of anarchy.The neighborhood was an eclectic mix of two-story Craftsman
Thursday, December 11, 2008
Vincent van Gogh The Yellow House painting
Vincent van Gogh The Yellow House paintingFra Angelico Madonna con Bambino paintingLeonardo da Vinci Virgin of the Rocks painting
weather warranted.Awning by awning, Ethan approached the Expedition,from his jacket pocket.Ahead, Tink twice slowed to an amble, looked back at Ethan, but didn’t stop.The ozone-scented cascades of rain couldn’t rinse away the yeasty aroma of freshly baked bread, which issued from one of the glittery restaurants lock-release button on his key fob. The Expedition chirruped at him.Having waited until there was no passing traffic to splash him, he rounded the back of the vehicle while a chance remained that he could avoid an immediate need for a dry cleaner.Approaching the driver’s door, he realized that he had not taken a close look at the SUV itself from the shelter of the final awning, and suddenly he was convinced that this time, when he got behind preparing to open their doors for dinner.At the end of the block, the dog halted once more, turning its head to stare.Though her voice was muffled by distance, screened by the sizzle of rain and the swish of passing traffic, the woman could be heard saying, “Tink, let’s go.” She repeated the command twice before the dog began to move again, picking up the slack in its leash.The trio disappeared around the corner.Arriving at the red zone near the end of the block, where he had [162] parked illegally, Ethan hesitated under the last awning. He monitored the approaching traffic until he saw a long gap between vehicles.He stepped into the rain and crossed the sidewalk. He jumped over the dirty racing current in the gutter.Behind his SUV, he thumbed the
weather warranted.Awning by awning, Ethan approached the Expedition,from his jacket pocket.Ahead, Tink twice slowed to an amble, looked back at Ethan, but didn’t stop.The ozone-scented cascades of rain couldn’t rinse away the yeasty aroma of freshly baked bread, which issued from one of the glittery restaurants lock-release button on his key fob. The Expedition chirruped at him.Having waited until there was no passing traffic to splash him, he rounded the back of the vehicle while a chance remained that he could avoid an immediate need for a dry cleaner.Approaching the driver’s door, he realized that he had not taken a close look at the SUV itself from the shelter of the final awning, and suddenly he was convinced that this time, when he got behind preparing to open their doors for dinner.At the end of the block, the dog halted once more, turning its head to stare.Though her voice was muffled by distance, screened by the sizzle of rain and the swish of passing traffic, the woman could be heard saying, “Tink, let’s go.” She repeated the command twice before the dog began to move again, picking up the slack in its leash.The trio disappeared around the corner.Arriving at the red zone near the end of the block, where he had [162] parked illegally, Ethan hesitated under the last awning. He monitored the approaching traffic until he saw a long gap between vehicles.He stepped into the rain and crossed the sidewalk. He jumped over the dirty racing current in the gutter.Behind his SUV, he thumbed the
Wednesday, December 10, 2008
Vincent van Gogh Tree trunks painting
Vincent van Gogh Tree trunks paintingVincent van Gogh Peach Tree in Bloom paintingVincent van Gogh lying cow paintingVincent van Gogh The shepherdess painting
To be fair, most people who visited the estate didn’t give a rip what it was called or what its grand name actually meant. They had more important issues on their minds—such as the weekend box-office numbers, the overnight TV ratings, the latest executive shuffles at theto screw in the new deal that they were putting regarding the structure of matter on a subatomic level; consequently, this theory was easily embraced and never challenged.Others were certain that Rospo had been either the maiden name of the original owner’s beloved mother or the name of a snow sled that he had ridden with great delight in childhoodtogether, how much to screw them out of, how to bedazzle them so they wouldn’t realize they were being screwed, how to find a new source for cocaine, and whether their might have been even bigger if they had begun having face-lifts when they were eighteen.Among the few who had ever given a thought to the name of the estate, there were competing theories.Some believed the house had been named after a famous Italian statesman or philosopher, or architect. The number of people in the film industry who knew anything about statesmen, philosophers, and architects was almost as small as the number who’d be able to give a lecture
To be fair, most people who visited the estate didn’t give a rip what it was called or what its grand name actually meant. They had more important issues on their minds—such as the weekend box-office numbers, the overnight TV ratings, the latest executive shuffles at theto screw in the new deal that they were putting regarding the structure of matter on a subatomic level; consequently, this theory was easily embraced and never challenged.Others were certain that Rospo had been either the maiden name of the original owner’s beloved mother or the name of a snow sled that he had ridden with great delight in childhoodtogether, how much to screw them out of, how to bedazzle them so they wouldn’t realize they were being screwed, how to find a new source for cocaine, and whether their might have been even bigger if they had begun having face-lifts when they were eighteen.Among the few who had ever given a thought to the name of the estate, there were competing theories.Some believed the house had been named after a famous Italian statesman or philosopher, or architect. The number of people in the film industry who knew anything about statesmen, philosophers, and architects was almost as small as the number who’d be able to give a lecture
Tuesday, December 9, 2008
John Singer Sargent Autumn on the River painting
John Singer Sargent Autumn on the River paintingRembrandt The Abduction Of Ganymede paintingRembrandt Saskia As Flora paintingRembrandt Samson And Delilah painting
segments of tape from perimeter cameras that captured the delivery.In addition, he offered a traditional again,” Benny said. “She lit a candle in your name, read it, says you need to be fortified.”“For what? The most strenuous thing I do these days is get up in the morning.”“She didn’t say for what. But not just for Christmas shopping. She had that temple-dragon look when she talked about it.”“The one that makes pit bulls bare their bellies?”“That one. She said you need to eat well, say prayers without fail each morning and night, and avoid drinking strong spirits.”“One problem. Drinking strong spirits is how I pray.”“I’ll just tell Mom you poured your whiskey down the drain, and when I left, you were on your knees thanking God for making chickens so she could cook com tay cam.”“Never knew your mom to take no for an answer,” Ethan said.Benny smiled. “She won’t take yes for an answer, either. She doesn’t expect an answer at all. Only dutiful obedience.”Now, an hour later, Ethan stood at a window, gazing at the thin rain, like threads of
segments of tape from perimeter cameras that captured the delivery.In addition, he offered a traditional again,” Benny said. “She lit a candle in your name, read it, says you need to be fortified.”“For what? The most strenuous thing I do these days is get up in the morning.”“She didn’t say for what. But not just for Christmas shopping. She had that temple-dragon look when she talked about it.”“The one that makes pit bulls bare their bellies?”“That one. She said you need to eat well, say prayers without fail each morning and night, and avoid drinking strong spirits.”“One problem. Drinking strong spirits is how I pray.”“I’ll just tell Mom you poured your whiskey down the drain, and when I left, you were on your knees thanking God for making chickens so she could cook com tay cam.”“Never knew your mom to take no for an answer,” Ethan said.Benny smiled. “She won’t take yes for an answer, either. She doesn’t expect an answer at all. Only dutiful obedience.”Now, an hour later, Ethan stood at a window, gazing at the thin rain, like threads of
Sunday, December 7, 2008
Unknown Artist tango dancers painting
Unknown Artist tango dancers paintingUnknown Artist sweet breath paintingUnknown Artist red background paintingUnknown Artist flower carrier painting
hasn't got to ask. He ought to know that if we can't stop him, we shan't leave him.''Begging your pardon,' said Sam. 'I don't think you understand my master at all. He isn't hesitating about which way to go. Of course not! What's the good of Minas Tirith the River and bolt. But he's still too frightened to start. And he isn't worrying about us either: whether we'll go along with him or no. He knows we mean to. That's another thing that's bothering him. If he screws himself up to go, he'll want to go alone. Mark my words! We're going to have trouble when he comes back. For he'll screw himself up all right, as sure as his name's Baggins.''I believe you speak more wisely than any of us, Sam,' said Aragorn. `And what shall we do, if you prove right? ''Stop him! Don't let him go! ' cried Pippin.anyway? To him, I mean, begging your pardon, Master Boromir,' he added, and turned. It was then that they discovered that Boromir, who at first had been sitting silent on the outside of the circle, was no longer there.`Now where's he got to? ' cried Sam, looking worried. 'He's been a bit queer lately, to my mind. But anyway he's not in thisDoom, if he can. But he's afraid. Now it's come to the point, he's just plain terrified. That's what his trouble is. Of course he's had a bit of schooling, so to speak-we all have-since we leftbe so terrified he'd just fling the Ring in
hasn't got to ask. He ought to know that if we can't stop him, we shan't leave him.''Begging your pardon,' said Sam. 'I don't think you understand my master at all. He isn't hesitating about which way to go. Of course not! What's the good of Minas Tirith the River and bolt. But he's still too frightened to start. And he isn't worrying about us either: whether we'll go along with him or no. He knows we mean to. That's another thing that's bothering him. If he screws himself up to go, he'll want to go alone. Mark my words! We're going to have trouble when he comes back. For he'll screw himself up all right, as sure as his name's Baggins.''I believe you speak more wisely than any of us, Sam,' said Aragorn. `And what shall we do, if you prove right? ''Stop him! Don't let him go! ' cried Pippin.anyway? To him, I mean, begging your pardon, Master Boromir,' he added, and turned. It was then that they discovered that Boromir, who at first had been sitting silent on the outside of the circle, was no longer there.`Now where's he got to? ' cried Sam, looking worried. 'He's been a bit queer lately, to my mind. But anyway he's not in thisDoom, if he can. But he's afraid. Now it's come to the point, he's just plain terrified. That's what his trouble is. Of course he's had a bit of schooling, so to speak-we all have-since we leftbe so terrified he'd just fling the Ring in
Friday, December 5, 2008
Gustav Klimt Hope painting
Gustav Klimt Hope paintingPierre-Auguste Cot The Storm painting
chamber. But they had no chance to fly yet. There was a blow on the door that made it quiver; and then it began to grind slowly open, and staggered back, and the opening grew suddenly wide. Arrows came whistling in, but struck the northern wall, and fell harmlessly to the floor. There was a horn-blast and a rush of feet, and orcs one after another leaped into the chamber.
Claude Monet Impression Sunrise paintingPierre Auguste Renoir Girls at The Piano painting
driving back the wedges. A huge arm and shoulder, with a dark skin of greenish scales, was thrust through the widening gap. Then a great, flat, toeless foot was forced through below. There was a dead silence outside.Boromir leaped forward and hewed at the arm with all his might; but his sword rang, glanced aside, and fell from his shaken hand. The blade was notched.Suddenly, and to his own surprise, Frodo felt a hot wrath blaze up in his heart. `The Shire! ' he cried, and springing beside Boromir, he stooped, and stabbed with Sting at the hideous foot. There was a bellow, and the foot jerked back, nearly wrenching Sting from Frodo's arm. Black drops dripped from the blade and smoked on the floor. Boromir hurled himself against the door and slammed it again.`One for the Shire! ' cried Aragorn. `The hobbit's bite is deep! You have a good blade, Frodo son of Drogo! 'There was a crash on the door, followed by crash after crash. Rams and hammers were beating against it. It cracked
chamber. But they had no chance to fly yet. There was a blow on the door that made it quiver; and then it began to grind slowly open, and staggered back, and the opening grew suddenly wide. Arrows came whistling in, but struck the northern wall, and fell harmlessly to the floor. There was a horn-blast and a rush of feet, and orcs one after another leaped into the chamber.
Claude Monet Impression Sunrise paintingPierre Auguste Renoir Girls at The Piano painting
driving back the wedges. A huge arm and shoulder, with a dark skin of greenish scales, was thrust through the widening gap. Then a great, flat, toeless foot was forced through below. There was a dead silence outside.Boromir leaped forward and hewed at the arm with all his might; but his sword rang, glanced aside, and fell from his shaken hand. The blade was notched.Suddenly, and to his own surprise, Frodo felt a hot wrath blaze up in his heart. `The Shire! ' he cried, and springing beside Boromir, he stooped, and stabbed with Sting at the hideous foot. There was a bellow, and the foot jerked back, nearly wrenching Sting from Frodo's arm. Black drops dripped from the blade and smoked on the floor. Boromir hurled himself against the door and slammed it again.`One for the Shire! ' cried Aragorn. `The hobbit's bite is deep! You have a good blade, Frodo son of Drogo! 'There was a crash on the door, followed by crash after crash. Rams and hammers were beating against it. It cracked
Wednesday, December 3, 2008
Thomas Gainsborough River Landscape painting
Thomas Gainsborough River Landscape paintingThomas Gainsborough Mr and Mrs Andrews painting
That may not prove to be one of the lighter service yet. Over all his works a dark smoke hung and wrapped itself about the sides of Orthanc. I stood alone on an island in the clouds; and I had no chance of escape, and my days were bitter. I was pierced with cold, and I had but little room in which to pace to and fro, brooding on the coming of the Riders to the North.
Sandro Botticelli Madonna and Child paintingSandro Botticelli La Primavera painting
matters," said I. He laughed at me, for my words were empty, and he knew it.`They took me and they set me alone on the pinnacle of Orthanc, in the place where Saruman was accustomed to watch the stars. There is no descent save by a narrow stair of many thousand steps, and the valley below seems far away. I looked on it and saw that, whereas it had once been green and fair, it was now filled with pits and forges. Wolves and orcs were housed in Isengard, for Saruman was mustering a great force on his own account, in rivalry of Sauron and not in his That the Nine had indeed arisen I felt assured, apart from the words of Saruman which might be lies. Long ere I came to Isengard I had heard tidings by the way that could not be mistaken. Fear was ever in
That may not prove to be one of the lighter service yet. Over all his works a dark smoke hung and wrapped itself about the sides of Orthanc. I stood alone on an island in the clouds; and I had no chance of escape, and my days were bitter. I was pierced with cold, and I had but little room in which to pace to and fro, brooding on the coming of the Riders to the North.
Sandro Botticelli Madonna and Child paintingSandro Botticelli La Primavera painting
matters," said I. He laughed at me, for my words were empty, and he knew it.`They took me and they set me alone on the pinnacle of Orthanc, in the place where Saruman was accustomed to watch the stars. There is no descent save by a narrow stair of many thousand steps, and the valley below seems far away. I looked on it and saw that, whereas it had once been green and fair, it was now filled with pits and forges. Wolves and orcs were housed in Isengard, for Saruman was mustering a great force on his own account, in rivalry of Sauron and not in his That the Nine had indeed arisen I felt assured, apart from the words of Saruman which might be lies. Long ere I came to Isengard I had heard tidings by the way that could not be mistaken. Fear was ever in
Tuesday, December 2, 2008
Ingres Madame Henri Gonse
Ingres Madame Henri GonseIngres Louise de Broglie Countess d'HaussonvilleIngres Half-figure of a BatherBoucher Vulcan Presenting Venus with Arms for Aeneas
and wavering is another. You will never get to Rivendell now on your own, and to trust me is your only the saying goes; and not too late I hope. You see, I was asked to look out for hobbits of the Shire, and for one by the name of Baggins in particular.''And what has that got to do with me?' asked Frodo.'Ah! you know best,' said the landlord, knowingly. 'I won't give you away; but I was told that this Baggins would be going by the name of Underhill, and I was given a description that fits you well enough, if I may say so.''Indeed! Let's have it then!' said Frodo, unwisely interrupting.chance. You must make up your mind. I will answer some of your questions, if that will help you to do so. But why should you believe my story, if you do not trust me already? Still here it is———'At that moment there came a knock at the door. Mr. Butterbur had arrived with candles, and behind him was Nob with cans of hot water. Strider withdrew into a dark corner.'I've come to bid you good night,' said the landlord, putting the candles on the table. 'Nob! Take the water to the rooms!' He came in and shut the door.'It's like this,' he began, hesitating and looking troubled. 'If I've done any harm, I'm sorry indeed. But one thing drives out another, as you'll admit; and I'm a busy man. But first one thing and then another this week have jogged my memory, as
and wavering is another. You will never get to Rivendell now on your own, and to trust me is your only the saying goes; and not too late I hope. You see, I was asked to look out for hobbits of the Shire, and for one by the name of Baggins in particular.''And what has that got to do with me?' asked Frodo.'Ah! you know best,' said the landlord, knowingly. 'I won't give you away; but I was told that this Baggins would be going by the name of Underhill, and I was given a description that fits you well enough, if I may say so.''Indeed! Let's have it then!' said Frodo, unwisely interrupting.chance. You must make up your mind. I will answer some of your questions, if that will help you to do so. But why should you believe my story, if you do not trust me already? Still here it is———'At that moment there came a knock at the door. Mr. Butterbur had arrived with candles, and behind him was Nob with cans of hot water. Strider withdrew into a dark corner.'I've come to bid you good night,' said the landlord, putting the candles on the table. 'Nob! Take the water to the rooms!' He came in and shut the door.'It's like this,' he began, hesitating and looking troubled. 'If I've done any harm, I'm sorry indeed. But one thing drives out another, as you'll admit; and I'm a busy man. But first one thing and then another this week have jogged my memory, as
Monday, December 1, 2008
Williams Silly Symbols
Williams Silly SymbolsWilliams Putting The Genie Back In The BottleWilliams Perineum TartareWilliams Masterlink in the Pain Chain
Clop-clop, clop-clop. The rider was nearly on them.‘Hallo there!’ called Farmer Maggot. The advancing hoofs stopped short. They thought they could dimly guess a dark cloaked shape in the mist, a yard or two ahead. ‘Now then!’ said the farmer, throwing the reins to Sam and striding forward. ‘Don’t you come a grew foggy I came across and rode up towards Stock to see if you had fallen in any ditches. But I’m blest if I know which way you have come. Where did you find them, Mr. Maggot? In your duck-pond?’‘No, I caught ‘em trespassing,’ said the farmer, ‘and nearly set my dogs on ‘em; but they’ll tell you all the story, I’ve no doubt. Now, if you’ll Mrs. Maggot will be worriting with the night getting thick.’step nearer! What do you want, and where are you going?’‘I want Mr. Baggins. Have you seen him?’ said a muffled voice - but the voice was the voice of Merry Brandybuck. A dark lantern was uncovered, and its light fell on the astonished face of the farmer.‘Mr. Merry!’ he cried.‘Yes, of course! Who did you think it was?’ said Merry coming forward. As he came out of the mist and their fears subsided, he seemed suddenly to diminish to ordinary hobbit-size. He was riding a pony, and a scarf was swathed round his neck and over his chin to keep out the fog.Frodo sprang out of the waggon to greet him. ‘So there you are at last!’ said Merry. ‘I was beginning to wonder if you would turn up at all today, and I was just going back to supper. When it
Clop-clop, clop-clop. The rider was nearly on them.‘Hallo there!’ called Farmer Maggot. The advancing hoofs stopped short. They thought they could dimly guess a dark cloaked shape in the mist, a yard or two ahead. ‘Now then!’ said the farmer, throwing the reins to Sam and striding forward. ‘Don’t you come a grew foggy I came across and rode up towards Stock to see if you had fallen in any ditches. But I’m blest if I know which way you have come. Where did you find them, Mr. Maggot? In your duck-pond?’‘No, I caught ‘em trespassing,’ said the farmer, ‘and nearly set my dogs on ‘em; but they’ll tell you all the story, I’ve no doubt. Now, if you’ll Mrs. Maggot will be worriting with the night getting thick.’step nearer! What do you want, and where are you going?’‘I want Mr. Baggins. Have you seen him?’ said a muffled voice - but the voice was the voice of Merry Brandybuck. A dark lantern was uncovered, and its light fell on the astonished face of the farmer.‘Mr. Merry!’ he cried.‘Yes, of course! Who did you think it was?’ said Merry coming forward. As he came out of the mist and their fears subsided, he seemed suddenly to diminish to ordinary hobbit-size. He was riding a pony, and a scarf was swathed round his neck and over his chin to keep out the fog.Frodo sprang out of the waggon to greet him. ‘So there you are at last!’ said Merry. ‘I was beginning to wonder if you would turn up at all today, and I was just going back to supper. When it
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