Emile Munier Cupid Disarmed

Emile Munier Cupid DisarmedHenri Fantin-Latour Still Life With Flowers And FruitFilippino Lippi Adoration of the ChildFilippino Lippi Madonna with Child and SaintsLouis Aston Knight A Riverside Cottage
suggest that they might as well go somewhere and have a few drinks, and then someone else would fancy a meal, and then there was always room for a few more drinks, and then it would be 5 a.m. and the city guards would be They de‑hatted, but with reluctance. A wizard gets very attached to his pointy hat. It gives him a sense of identity. But, as the Chair had pointed out earlier, if people knew you were a wizard because you were wearing a pointy hat, then if you took the pointy hat off, they’d think you were just some rich merchant or something.
The Dean shuddered. ‘It feels like I’ve taken all my clothes off,’ he said.
‘We can tuck them in under Poons’ blanket,’ said the Chair. ‘No­one’ll know it’s us.’
‘Yes,’ said the Lecturer in Recent Runes, ‘but will we?’
‘They’ll just think we’re, well, solid burghers.’respectfully knocking on the University gates and asking if the Archchancellor would care to step down to the cells to identify some alleged wizards who were singing an obscene song in six‑part harmony, and perhaps he would also care to bring some money to pay for all the damage. Because inside every old person is a young person wondering what happened.The Chair reached up and grasped the brim of his tall, wide and floppy wizarding hat.‘Right, boys,’ he said. ‘Hats off.’

Leonardo da Vinci Leda 1508

Leonardo da Vinci Leda 1508Thomas Kinkade The Light of PeaceThomas Kinkade The Edge of WildernessThomas Kinkade St. Nicholas CircleThomas Kinkade Silent Night
got a nephew looking for a career,’ said the troll. ‘Have a nice day.’
‘Right,’ said Dibbler, rubbing his hands briskly. ‘Soll!’
Soll appeared from behind a trestle table loaded with rolled-up plans, and took a pencil out of his mouth.
‘Yes, Uncle?’
‘How long will it take?’
‘About four days, Uncle.’ ‘That’s too long. Hire more people. I want it done by tomorrow, right?’
‘But, Uncle-’
‘Or astonishment as he scurried away. Dibbler started haranguing a group of handlemen. Instructions spouted out of the man like water from a fountain.
‘I reckon no-one’s goin’ to Ankh-Morpork this morning, then,’ said a voice by Victor’s knee.
‘He’s certainly very, er, ambitious today;’ said Victor. ‘Not like himself at all.’
Gaspode scratched an ear. ‘There was sunnink I got to tell you. What was it, now?you’re sacked,’ said Dibbler. Soll looked frightened. ‘I’m your nephew, Uncle,’ he protested. ‘You can’t sack nephews.’ Dibbler looked around and appeared to notice Victor for the first time. ‘Ah, Victor. You’re good at words,’ he said. ‘Can I sack a nephew?’ ‘Er. I don’t think so. I think you have to disown them, or something,’ said Victor lamely. ‘But-’ ‘Right! Right!’ said Dibbler. ‘Good man. I knew it was some kind of a word like that. Disown. Hear that, Soll?’ ‘Yes, Uncle,’ said Soll dispiritedly. ‘I’ll go and see if I can find some more carpenters, then, shall I?’ ‘Right.’ Soll flashed Victor a look of terrified

Edward Hopper Ryder's House

Edward Hopper Ryder's HouseEdward Hopper Railroad TrainEdward Hopper New York OfficeEdward Hopper Morning in a CityEdward Hopper High Noon
He’s red hot on mysterious senses,’ said Victor.
‘In that case–’ said the rabbit.
‘Hold it,’ said Gaspode. ‘Someone’s coming.’
A moving Gaspode sniffed. ‘Human,’ he said. ‘Female. Wearin’ cheap scent.’ His nose twitched again. ‘It’s called Passion’s Plaything.’ He sniffed again. ‘Fresh laundry, no starch. Old shoes. Lot of studio make-up. She’s been in Borgle’s and had–’ his nose twitched ‘–stoo. Not a big plate.’
‘I suppose you can tell how tall she is, can you?’ said Victor.
‘She smells about five foot two, two and a half,’ hazarded Gaspode.
‘Oh, come on!’ torch was visible coming up the hill. The duck rocketed clumsily into the sir and glided away. The others disappeared into the shadows. Only the dog didn’t move. ‘Aren’t you going to make yourself scarce?’ Victor hissed. Gaspode raised an eyebrow. ‘Woof?’ he said. The torch zig-zagged erratically among the scrub, like a firefly. Sometimes it would stop for a moment, and then wander away in some totally new direction. It was very bright. ‘What is it?’ said Victor.

Thomas Kinkade yankee stadium

Thomas Kinkade yankee stadiumThomas Kinkade ny yankee stadiumJuan Gris Violin and GuitarJuan Gris Violin and GlassJuan Gris Violin and Checkerboard
they’d had their supper only fifteen minutes before,’ the servant blurted out.
‘Perhaps have six other levels to look down on and the Eighth Level to aspire to? You needed other wizards to hate and despise.
Whereas every alchemist was an alchemist alone, working in darkened rooms or hidden cellars and endlessly searching for the big casino – the Philosopher’s Stone, the Elixir of Life. They tended to be thin, pink-eyed men, with beards that weren’t really beards but more like groups of individual whatever they were doing makes people hungry,’ said the Patrician. ‘Yes, and the kitchen was all shut up for the night and I had to go and buy a tray of hot sausages in buns from Throat Dibbler.’ ‘Indeed.’ The Patrician looked down at the paperwork on his desk. ‘Thank you. You may go.’ ‘You know what, lordship? They liked them. They actually liked them!’ That the Alchemists had a Guild at all was remarkable. Wizards were just as unco-operative, but they also were by nature hierarchical and competitive. They needed organization. What was the good of being a wizard of the Seventh Level if you didn’t

John Constable Wivenhoe Park

John Constable Wivenhoe ParkJohn Constable The White HorseJohn Constable The Hay WainJohn Constable Salisbury CathedralJohn Constable Salisbury Cathedral from the Meadows
He remounted You Bastard and rode him, sloshing gently, down the road. The fields on either side had a devastated look.no servants. No living soul.
He slipped into his own palace like a thief in the day, and found his way to Dil's workshop. It was empty, and looked as though a robber with very peculiar tastes had recently been at work in there. The throne room smelled like a kitchen, and by the looks of it the cooks had fled in a hurry.
The gold mask of the kings of Djelibeybi, slightly buckled out of shape, had rolled The sun was finally sinking; the gods of night and evening were prevailing over the daylight gods, but it had been a long struggle and, when you thought about all the things that would happen to it now - eaten by goddesses, carried on boats under the world, and so on - it was an odds-on chance that it wouldn't be seen again. No-one was visible as he rode into the stable yard. You Bastard padded sedately to his stall and pulled delicately at a wisp of hay. He'd thought of something interesting about bivariant distributions. Teppic patted him on the flank, raising another cloud, and walked up the wide steps that led to the palace proper. Still there were no guards,

Yvonne Jeanette Karlsen Nude

Yvonne Jeanette Karlsen NudeTamara de Lempicka DormeuseTamara de Lempicka AndromedaTamara de Lempicka Adam and EveWassily Kandinsky Squares with Concentric
You had to do pyramids, dad said. All the profit was in mastabas, small family tombs, memorial needles and general jobbing necropoli, but if you didn't do pyramids, you didn't do anything. The meanest garlic farmer, looking for something neat With terrible penalties if it wasn't done on time. Dios hadn't specified how terrible, but Ptaclusp knew his man and they probably involved crocodiles. They'd be pretty terrible, all right...
He stared at the flickering light on the long avenues of statues, including the one of bloody Hat the Vulture-Headed God of Unexpected Guests, bought on the offchance years ago and turned down by the client owing to not being up to snuff in the beak department and unshiftable ever since even at a discount.and long lasting with maybe some green marble chippings but within a budget, wouldn't go to a man without a pyramid to his name. So he'd done pyramids, and they'd been good ones, not like some you saw these days, with the wrong number of sides and walls you could put your foot through. And yes, somehow they'd gone from strength to strength. To build the biggest pyramid ever.. In three months.

Claude Monet A Corner of the Studio

Claude Monet A Corner of the StudioJohannes Vermeer girl with the pearl earringDiane Romanello Autumn RoadGustav Klimt Apple Tree IISalvador Dali The Transparent Simulacrum of the Feigned Image
Wimsloe drew his arm back.
'I cannot! He has been kindness itself to me!'
'And you can be Death itself to him . . .'
Dafe could hear the voices a long way off. He adjusted his mask, checked the deathliness of his appearance in the mirror, and peered at the script in the empty backstage gloom.
'Cower Now, Brief Mortals,' he said. 'I Am Death, 'Gainst Who – 'Gainst Who—'
WHOM.
'Oh, thanks,'of the makeup table. His empty nostrils snuffed up the mixed smells of mothballs, grease and sweat.
There was something here, he thought, that nearly belonged to the gods. Humans had built a world inside the world, which reflected it in pretty much the same way as a drop of water reflects said the boy distractedly. ' 'Gainst Whom No Lock May Hold—'WILL HOLD.'Will Hold Nor Fasten'd Portal Bar, Here To – to – to'HERE TO TAKE MY TALLY ON THIS NIGHT OF KINGS.Dafe sagged.'You're so much better at it,' he moaned. 'You've got the right voice and you can remember the words.' He turned around. 'It's only three lines and Hwel will . . . have . . . my . . . guts . . . for.'He froze. His eyes widened and became two saucers of fear as Death snapped his fingers in front of the boy's rigid face.FORGET, he commanded, and turned and stalked silently towards the wings.His eyeless skull took in the line of costumes, the waxy debris

Leroy Neiman April at Augusta

Leroy Neiman April at AugustaLeroy Neiman Amphitheatre at RiveraLeroy Neiman American Stock ExchangeLeroy Neiman 18th at HarbourtownLeroy Neiman 16th at Augusta
Fool said, 'How did you get to be a witch?'
'Um?'
'I mean, did you go to a school or something?'
'Oh. No. Goodie Whemper just walked down to the village one day, got all us girls lined up, and chose me. You don't choose the Craft, you see. It chooses you.'
'Yes, but when do you actually become a witch?'
'When the other witches treat you as one, I suppose.' Magrat sighed. 'If they ever do,' she added. 'I thought they would after I did that spell in the corridor. It was pretty good, after all.'
'Marry, t'was a rite of passage,' said the Fool, unable to stop himself. Magrat gave him a blank look. He coughed.
'The other witches being those two old ladies?' he said, relapsing into his usual gloom.
'Yes.'
'Very strong master. Right up until he dies. I'm afraid it's tradition. Tradition is very important.'
'But you don't even like being a Fool!'
'I hate it. But that's got nothing to do with it. If I've got to be a Fool, I'll do it properlycharacters, I imagine.''Very,' said Magrat, with feeling.'I wonder if they ever met my grandad,' said the Fool.Magrat looked at her feet.'They're quite nice really,' she said. 'It's just that, well, when you're a witch you don't think about other people. I mean, you think about them, but you don't actually think about their feelings, if you see what I mean. At least, not unless you think about it.' She looked at her feet again.'You're not like that,' said the Fool.'Look, I wish you'd stop working for the duke,' said Magrat desperately. 'You know what he's like. Torturing people and setting fire to their cottages and everything.''But I'm his Fool,' said the Fool. 'A Fool has to be loyal to his

Caravaggio The Incredulity of Saint Thomas

Caravaggio The Incredulity of Saint ThomasGeorge Frederick Watts Watts ChoosingFrancisco de Zurbaran Rest on the flight to EgyptClaude Lorrain Seaport with the Embarkation of the Queen of ShebaFrancisco de Zurbaran The Immaculate Conception
'He's put his own bodyguards on the gates and everything—'
'Look, just shut up a minute, will you, Shawn?'
'When our Jason finds out, he's going to give the duke a real seeing-to, miz. He says it's about time someone did.'
Nanny Ogg's Jason was a young man with the build and, Magrat had always thought, the brains of a herd of oxen. Thick-skinned though he was, she doubted whether he could survive a hail of arrows.
'Don't tell him yet,' she said thoughtfully. 'There could be another way . . .'
'I'll go and find Granny Weatherwax, shall I, miz?' said Shawn, hopping from one leg to another. 'She'll know what to do.

Lord Felmet was one of nature's gloaters. He was good at it.
'Quite comfortable, are we?' he said.
Nanny Ogg considered this. 'Apart from these stocks, you mean?' she said., she's a witch.'Magrat stood absolutely still. She had thought she was angry before, but now she was furious. She was wet and cold and hungry and this person – once upon a time, she heard herself thinking, she would have burst into tears at this point.'Oops,' said Shawn. 'Um. I didn't mean. Whoops. Um . . .' He backed away.'If you happen to see Granny Weatherwax,' said Magrat slowly, in tones that should have etched her words into glass, 'you can tell her that I will sort it all out. Now go away before I turn you into a frog. You look like one anyway.'She turned, hitched up her skirts, and ran like hell towards her cottage

Edward Hopper Summer Interior

Edward Hopper Summer InteriorEdward Hopper SailingEdward Hopper Ryder's HouseEdward Hopper Railroad TrainEdward Hopper New York Office
where the third man had been.
There was the distant drumming of hooves on the turf, and then silence.
Nanny Ogg hobbled forward.
'I could catch him,' she said. 'What do you think?'
Granny shook her head. She sat down on a rock and looked at the child in her arms. It was a boy, no more than two years old, and quite naked under the blanket. She rocked him vaguely and stared at nothing.
Nanny Ogg examined the two corpses with the air of one for whom laying-out holds no fears.
'Perhaps they were bandits,' said Magrat tremulously.
Nanny now, and the watery moon shed a thin gruel of light over the damp moorland. It also gleamed off what was, without any doubt, an extremely important crown.
'It's a crown,' said Magrat. 'It's got all spiky bits on it.'shook her head.'A strange thing,' she said. 'They both wear this same badge. Two bears on a black and gold shield. Anyone know what that means?''It's the badge of King Verence,' said Magrat.'Who's he?' said Granny Weatherwax.'He rules this country,' said Magrat.'Oh. That king,' said Granny, as if the matter was hardly worth noting.'Soldiers fighting one another. Doesn't make sense,' said Nanny Ogg. 'Magrat, you have a look in the coach.'The youngest witch poked around inside the bodywork and came back with a sack. She upended it, and something thudded on to the turf.The storm had rumbled off to the other side of the mountain

Leroy Neiman Resting Lion

Leroy Neiman Resting LionLeroy Neiman Hand Off Superbowl IIIJean-Honore Fragonard the reader
'Excuse me,' said Mort weakly. 'I've had a busy day. I think I'd like to sit down somewhere.'
'There's the Throne Room,' said Cutwell. 'There's no-one in there at this time of night. Everyone's asleep.'
Mort noddedwrong one.
Mort can move absentmindedly through walls and drink neat widowmaker soberly not because he is turning into a ghost, but because he is becoming dangerously real.
In fact, as the boy stumbles while they walk along the silent corridors and steps through , and then looked suspiciously at the young wizard.'What are you doing up, then?' he said.'Um,' said Cutwell, 'um, I just thought I'd see if there was anything in the pantry.'He the time to report that Cutwell too notices that Mort, even a Mort weary with riding and lack of sleep, is somehow glowing from within and in some strange way unconnected with size is nevertheless larger than life. The difference is that Cutwell is, by training, a better guesser than other people and knows that in occult matters the obvious answer is usually the

Thomas Kinkade yankee stadium

Thomas Kinkade yankee stadiumThomas Kinkade ny yankee stadiumJuan Gris Violin and Guitar
the Disc's standing field, earthed itself in the green ice mountains of the Hub.
Thethrough the night sky ahead of a comet trail of steam.
There were otherit's not knowing something.
It'll take Mort several minutes to arrive. A row of dots would fill in the time nicely, but the reader will already be noticing the strange shape of the temple – curled like a great white ammonite at the end of the valley – and will probably want an explanation.
The fact is that the Listeners are trying to work out precisely what it was mountains clustered around Cori. By comparison they were no more than termite mounds, although in reality each one was a majestic assortment of cols, ridges, faces, cliffs, screes and glaciers that any normal mountain range would be happy to associate with.Among the highest of them, at the end of a funnel-shaped valley, dwelt the Listeners.They were one of the oldest of the Disc's religious sects, although even the gods themselves were divided as to whether Listening was really a proper religion, and all that prevented their temple being wiped out by a few well-aimed avalanches was the fact that even the gods were curious as to what it was that the Listeners might Hear. If there's one thing that really annoys a god,

Johannes Vermeer the Milkmaid

Johannes Vermeer the MilkmaidWinslow Homer The Gulf StreamEdward Hopper The Long Leg
wasn't much more than four sides to a cobbled square, lined with shops that provided all the service industry of the farming community.
After five minutes Mort came out of the tailors wearing a loose fitting brown garment of imprecise function, which had been got to make an impression, stand out in the crowd.'
There was no doubt about it. He would. They set out among the throng crowding the square, each listening to his own thoughts. Usually Mort enjoyed visiting the town, with its cosmopolitan atmosphere and strange dialects from villages as far away as five, even ten miles, but this time he felt understandably unclaimed by a previous owner and had plenty of room for him to grow, on the assumption that he would grow into a nineteen-legged elephant.His father regarded him critically.'Very nice,' he said, 'for the money.''It itches,' said Mort. 'I think there's things in here with me.'There's thousands of lads in the world'd be very thankful for a nice warm —' Lezek paused, and gave up – 'garment like that, my lad.''I could share it with them?' Mort said hopefully.'You've got to look smart,' said Lezek severely. 'You've

Lord Frederick Leighton Solitude

Lord Frederick Leighton SolitudeFrancois Boucher Venus Consoling LoveFrancois Boucher The Toilet of Venus
Esk stared at him. She felt alone, and lost, and more than a little betrayed. Everyone seemed to be busy living their own lives, except her. She up after wizards. It wasn't fair, and she'd had enough.
"Actually I don't. Actually I'm learning to read so I can be a wizard."
The boy regarded her through his damp eyes for some seconds. Then he gently took the book out of Esk's hands and read its title.
"Demonylogie Malyfycorum of Henchanse thee Unsatyfactory. How did you think you could learn to r-read this?"
"Um," said Esk, "Well, you just keep trying until you can, don't you? Like milking, or knitting, or . . . ." Her voice faded away.
"I don't know about that. These books can be a bit, well, aggressive. If you d-don't be careful they start reading you."
"What do you mean?"
"T-they too hard in case she missed anything.
"I don't want to know about it if it's horrid."
"- had a lot more pages."ssss-" "- say -"said Esk, automatically. "- that there was once a wwww-" "- wizard -" "- who started to r-read the Necrotelecomnicon and let his m-mind wwwwww-" "- wander -" "- and next morning they f-found all his clothes on the chair and hhis hat on t-top of them and the b-book had -" Esk put her fingers in her ears, but not
Esk took her fingers out of her ears. "Was there anything on the pages?"
Simon nodded solemnly. "Yes. On every sssingle one of ththem there www

Wassily Kandinsky Squares with Concentric

Wassily Kandinsky Squares with ConcentricPierre-Auguste Cot SpringtimeThomas Cole Kaaterskill Falls
Just nod," said Gander, who was not naturally a cruel man.
Simon nodded gratefully. Treatle and Gander exchanged nods and then the wizard strode off, with his apprentice trailing behind under a weight of baggage.
Gander looked down at the list in front of him and carefully crossed out "wizard".
A small not taking any runaways to Ankh-Morpork. Strange things can happen to little girls in big cities."
Esk brightened. "What sort of strange things?"
"Look, I said go Home, right? Now!"
He picked up his chalk and went on ticking off items on his slate, trying to ignore the steady gaze that seemed to be boring through the top of his head.shadow fell across the page. He glanced up and gave an involuntary start. "Well?" he said coldly. "I want to go to Ankh-Morpork," said Esk, "please. I've got some money." "Go Home to your mother, child." "No, really. I want to seek my fortune." Gander sighed. "Why are you holding that broomstick?" he said. Esk looked at it as though she had never seen it before. "Everything's got to be somewhere," she said. "Just go Home, my girl," said Gander. "I'm

Leonardo da Vinci The Madonna of the Carnation

Leonardo da Vinci The Madonna of the CarnationLeonardo da Vinci da Vinci Self PortraitRembrandt The Return of the Prodigal Son
as she could latch on to a thought it evaporated, leaving nothing behind.
She was losing chunks of herself, and she couldn't remember. what she was losing. She panicked, burrowing back to the things she was sure of ....
I am Esk, and I have stolen the body of an eagle and the feel of
wind, adding their own bass humming to her chant.
Then they were gone, soaring into the growing light over the clearing and streaming away over the trees.
It is well known- at least, it is well known to witches - that all colonies of bees are, as it were in feathers, the hunger, the search of the not-sky below .... She tried again. I am Esk and seeking the windpath, the pain of muscle, the cut of the air, the cold of it .... I am Esk high over air-damp-wet-white, above everything, the sky is thin .... I am I am. Granny the beehives, the early morning wind whipping at her skirts. She went from hive to hive, tapping on their roofs. Then, in the thickets of borage and beebalm that she had planted around them, she stood with her arms outstretched in front of her and sang something in tones so high that no normal person could have heard them. But a roar went up from the hives, and then the air was suddenly thick with the heavy, big-eyed, deep-voiced shapes of drone bees. They circled over her head

Wassily Kandinsky Squares with Concentric

Wassily Kandinsky Squares with ConcentricPierre-Auguste Cot SpringtimeThomas Cole Kaaterskill Falls
If you define a witch as one who worships the pancreative urge, that is, venerates the basic - the tree began, and .
Granny waited until she was quite sure that it wasn't going to add anything, and said, That's witchcraft, is it?
Its theoretical basis, yes.
You wizards certainly get some funny ideas.
The tree said, Not a wizard anymore, just a tree.
Granny ruffled her feathers.continued for several minutes. Granny Weatherwax listened in impatient annoyance to phrases like Mother Goddesses and primitive moon worship and told herself that she was well aware of what being a witch was all about, it was about herbs and curses and flying around of nights and generally keeping on the right side of tradition, and it certainly didn't involve mixing with goddesses, mothers or otherwise, who apparently got up to some very questionable tricks. And when the tree started talking about dancing naked she tried not to listen, because although she was aware that somewhere under her complicated strata of vests and petticoats there was some skin, that didn't mean to say she approved of it. The tree finished its monologue

Edward Hopper Portrait of Orleans

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smug air.
But he had got in, once, long ago. Rincewind the student had pushed at the door as kindly as it could manage. 'Just go and find us a wizard, there's a good fellow.'
Rincewind took a deep breath.
'Stand back,' he rasped.
'What?'
'Find something to hide behind,' he barked, with his voice shaking only slightly. 'You too,' he said to Bethan and Twoflower.
'But you can't —'
'I mean it!'
'He means it,' said Twoflower. 'That little vein on the side of his forehead, you know, when it throbs like that, well —'
'Shut up!'
Rincewind , which looked very sheepish.
He considered the air around the door itself, how it miraised one arm uncertainly and pointed it at the door.There was total silence.Oh gods, he thought, what happens now?In the blackness at the back of his mind the Spell shifted uneasily.Rincewind tried to get in tune or whatever with the metal of the lock. If he could sow discord amongst its atoms so that they flew apart —Nothing happened.He swallowed hard, and turned his attention to the wood. It was old and nearly fossilised, and probably wouldn't burn even if soaked in oil and dropped into a furnace. He tried anyway, explaining to the ancient molecules that they should try to jump up and down to keep warm —In the strained silence of his own mind he glared at the Spellght best be twisted into weird shapes so that the door existed in another set of dimensions entirely.

Paul Gauguin The Loss of Virginity

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of them get to be very good at it, yes. I'm only an amateur, I'm afraid.'
BUT THEY ONLY LIVE EIGHTY OR NINETY YEARS!
'You should It was, in fact, a rather pleasant study, perhaps a little on the sombre side, possibly created on a bad day by an interior designer who had a headache and a craving for putting large hourglasses on every flat surface and also a lot of large, fat, yellow and extremely runny candles he wanted to get rid of.
The Death of the Disc was a traditionalist who prided himself on his personal service and spent most of the time being depressed because this was not appreciated. He would point out that no-one feared death know, Mort,' said a voice that Rincewind hadn't heard before and certainly never wanted to hear again, especially after dark.'It's certainly very – intriguing.'DEAL AGAIN AND LET'S SEE IF I'VE GOT THE HANG OF IT.'Do you think perhaps we should go in?' said Ysabell. A voice behind the door said, I BID . . . THE KNAVE OF TERRAPINS.'No, sorry, I'm sure you're wrong, let's have a look at your —'Ysabell pushed the door open.

John William Waterhouse The Sorceress

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course, it'll take about an hour to get there,' he said. Then the spell will simply follow the ionised path back here. To me.'
'Remarkable,' said Trymon, but any passing telepath would have read in letters ten yards high: if you, then why not me? He work go for nothing because some old fool had a bright idea.
'Would you like some cocoa while we're waiting?' said Galder, hobbling across the room to the servants' bell.
'Certainly,' said Trymon. He picked up the knife, weighing it for balance and accuracy. 'I must congratulate you, master. I can see that we must all get up very early in the morning to get the better of you.'
Galder laughed. And the knife left Trymon's hand at such speed looked down at the cluttered workbench, when a long and very sharp knife looked tailormade for what he suddenly had in mind.Violence was not something he liked to be involved in except at one remove. But the Pyramid of Tsort had been quite clear about the rewards for whoever brought all right spells together at the right time, and Trymon was not about to let years of painstaking

Jean Fragonard The Fountain of Love

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colours are merely partial and wishy-washy reflections. It was octarine, the colour of magic. It was alive and glowing and vibrant and it was the undisputed pigment of the imagination, because wherever it appeared it was a sign the top rope of the Circumfence climbed over the rocky island on a number of iron stakes and actually passed through the shack by a small round window. He learned later that this was so that the troll could be alerted to the arrival of any salvage on his stretch of the Circumfence by means of a series of small bronze bells, balanced delicately on on the rope.
A floating stockade had been built out of rough timber on the hubward side of the island. It contained one or that mere matter was a servant of the powers of the magical mind. It was enchantment itself. But Rincewind always thought it looked a sort of greenish-purple.After a while a small speck on the rim of the world resolved itself into a eyot or crag, so perilously perched that the waters of the fall swirled around it at the start of their long drop. A driftwood shanty had been built on it, and Rincewind saw that