Tamara de Lempicka Two Friends

Tamara de Lempicka Two FriendsTamara de Lempicka The Green TurbanTamara de Lempicka Summer
walked back to the door.
'Sorry to have bothered you,' he said, and left.
Zorgo's patient watched him go with interest.
'Didn't he have a crossbow?' he said. 'Bit odd, going after interesting rare butterflies with a crossbow.'
Zorgo readjusted the fit of the grid on his patient's bald head.
'Dunno,' he said, 'I , and laughed.
'Pardon?'
1S6
'Well, I mean, the ground is . . . so much . . . closer . . .'
She felt a pit opening wider with every word. The noise level had suddenly dropped again.
'Er,' said Carrot, staring fixedly at her. 'How can I put thissuppose it stops them creating all these damn thunderstorms.' He picked up the mallet again. 'Now, what were we going for today? Decisiveness, yes?''Yes. Well, no. Maybe.''Right.' Zorgo took aim. 'This,' he said with absolute truth, 'won't hurt a bit.' It was more than just a delicatessen. It was a sort of dwarf community centre and meeting place. The babble of voices stopped when Angua entered, bending almost double, but started up again with slightly more volume and a few laughs when Carrot followed. He waved cheerfully at the other customers.Then he carefully removed two chairs. It was just possible to sit upright if you sat on the floor.'Very . . . nice,' said Angua. 'Ethnic.''I come in here quite a lot,' said Carrot. 'The food's good and, of course, it pays to keep your ear to the ground.''That'd certainly be easy here,' said Angua

Juan Gris Violin and Glass

Juan Gris Violin and GlassJuan Gris Violin and CheckerboardJuan Gris Man in the Cafe
felt something inside him bubbling over. Something was brushing the tips of his corroded but nevertheless still-active instincts, trying to draw attention to itself. He had to be on the move. It was all that Carrot could do to keep up.
There were trainee Assassins in the streets around the Guild, still sweeping up debris.
Assassins in daylight,' snarled Vimes. 'I'm amazed they don't turn to dust.'
'That's vampires, sir,' said Carrot.
'Hah! You're right. Assassins and licensed thieves and bloody vampires! You know, this was a great old city once, lad.'
Unconsciously, they fell into step . . . proceeding.
'When we had kings, I think.'
Vimes paused. There's something in the air in this city, he thought. If the Creator had said, 'Let there be light' in Ankh-Morpork, he'd have got no further because of all the people saying 'What colour?'
'The supreme ruler, OK,' he said, starting to stroll forward again.
'OK.'
'But that's not right, see? One man with the power of life and death.'
'But if he's a good man—' Carrot began., sir?''Kings? Kings? Hell, no!'A couple of Assassins looked around in surprise.'I'll tell you,' said Vimes. A monarch's an absolute ruler, right? The head honcho—''Unless he's a queen,' said Carrot.Vimes glared at him, and then nodded.'OK, or the head honchette—''No, that'd only apply if she was a young woman. Queens tend to be older. She'd have to be a . . . a honcharina? No, that's for very young princesses. No. Um. A honchesa

John William Waterhouse Hylas and the Nymphs

John William Waterhouse Hylas and the NymphsJohn William Waterhouse Waterhouse OpheliaLeonardo da Vinci Portrait of Ginevra BenciLeonardo da Vinci The Madonna of the Carnation
I'm sure we wish him All the Best, he taught me All I Know apart, from the things I taught myself. We are clubbing together to get him a Surprise Present, I thought one of those new Watches that don't need demons to make them go and we could inscribe on the back something like "A Watch from, your Old Freinds in the Watch", this is a pune or Play on Words. Various elderly female relatives cried. But Edward d'Eath didn't cry, for three reasons. He was the eldest son, the thirty-seventh Lord d'Eath, and it was Not Done for a d'Eath to cry; he was – just, the diploma still had the crackle in it – an Assassin, and Assassins didn't cry at a death, otherwise they'd never be stopping; and he was angry. In fact, he was enraged.We do not know who will be the new Captain, Sgt Colon says he will Resign if it's him, Cpl Nobbs—' Carrot stared out of the window again. His big honest forehead wrinkled with effort as he tried to think of something positive to say about Corporal Nobbs. '—is more suited in his current Roll, and I have not been in the Watch long enough. So we shall just have to wait and See—' It began, as many things do, with a death. And a burial, on a spring morning, with mist on the ground so thick that it poured into the grave and the coffin was lowered into cloud.A small greyish mongrel, host to so many assorted doggy diseases that it was surrounded by a cloud of dust, watched impassively from the mound of earth.

Jean Francois Millet The sower

Jean Francois Millet The sowerJean Francois Millet SpringJean Francois Millet Man with a hoeLorenzo Lotto Venus and Cupid
goodness,” Ponder added. “Knocked me cold.
Otherwise I’d be like the others.”
A foreboding of a conversation to come swept over Magrat.
“What others?” she snapped.
“Are you alone?”
“What others?”
“Have you found a second wizard propped against a tree like a ladder. He had a huge smile creasing his face.
“The Bursar,” said Ponder. “I think we may have over-done the dried frog pills a bit.” He any idea what’s been happening?”Magrat thought about the castle, and the town.“I might be able to hazard a guess,” she said.Ponder shook his head.“It’s worse than that,” he said.“What others?” said Magrat.“I think there’s definitely been a cross-continuum break-through, and I’m sure there’s a difference in energy levels.”“But what others?” Magrat insisted.Ponder Stibbons glanced nervously at the surrounding forest.“Let’s get off the path. There’s a lot more elves back there.”Ponder disappeared into the undergrowth. Magrat followed him, and

Thomas Kinkade Perseverance

Thomas Kinkade Perseverance
with spikes. She had knee pads with spikes on, and spikes on her sandals, and a rather short skirt in the fashionable tartan and blood motif. One hand rested nonchalantly on a double-headed battle axe with a spike on it, the other caressed the hand of a captured enemy warrior. The rest of the captured enemy warrior was hanging from various pine trees in the back-ground. Also in the picture was Spike, her favorite war pony, of the now extinct Lancre hill breed which was the same general shape and disposition as a barrel of gunpow-der, and her war chariot, which picked up the popular spiky
Cao Yong Day of LoveCao Yong cao yong Red UmbrellaDiego Rivera View of Toledo
helmet with wings and a spike on it and a mass of black hair plaited into dreadlocks with blood as a setting lotion. She was heavily made-up in the woad-and-blood-and-spirals school of barbarian cosmetics. She had a 42 D-cup breastplate and shoulder pads theme. It had wheels you could shave with.
Magrat stared.
They’d never mentioned this.
They’d told her about tapestries, and embroidery, and farthingales, and how to shake hands with lords. They’d never told her about spikes.
There was a sound at the end of the gallery, from back the way she’d come. She grabbed her skirts and ran.
There were footsteps behind her, and laughter.

Paul Klee Heroic Roses

Paul Klee Heroic RosesPaul Klee HermitageRene Magritte The Dangerous LiaisonRene Magritte Donna
underneath a helmet, so it’s probably official and will get
l The Lancratians did not consider geography to be a very original science.

156
LORDS ftttO LftQ/£6
into serious trouble if it eats people. Nothing to worry about.”
The Bursar giggled, because he was on the upcurve of whatever switchback his mind was currently riding.
The troll appeared at the coach window.
“Afternoon, your lordships,” it said. “Customs inspection.”
“I don’t think we have any,” babbled the Bursar happily.
“I mean, we Doodle” in a crowded bar in Atlanta.
Even these people would consider it tactless to mention the word “billygoat” to a troll.
The troll’s expression changed very slowly, like a glacier eroding half a mountain. Ponder tried to get under the seat.
“So we’ll just trit-trot along, shall we?” said the Bursar, his voice by now slightly muffled.
“He doesn’t mean it,” said the Archchancellor quickly.
“It’s the dried frog talking.”used to have a tradition of rolling boiled eggsdownhill on Soul Cake Tuesday, but—““I means,” said the troll, “do you have any beer, spirits, wines, liquors, hallucinogenic herbage, or books of a lewd or licentious nature?”Ridcully pulled the Bursar back from the window.“No,” he said.“No?”“No.”“Sure?”“Yes.”“Would you like some?”“We haven’t even got,” said the Bursar, despite Ridcully’s efforts to sit on his head, “any billygoats.”There are some people that would whistle “Yankee

Leonardo da Vinci Leda 1508

Leonardo da Vinci Leda 1508Thomas Kinkade The Light of PeaceThomas Kinkade The Edge of Wilderness
had been in the room with her Granny Weatherwax would have thrown open the door boldly, but she was by herself. She picked up the poker very carefully, moved surprisingly soundlessly to the door given the nature of her boots, and listened intently.
There was something in the garden.
It wasn’t much of a you came from. And you can damn well get back there.”
The thing made a feint at her, but the poker swung toward it.
“Can’t stand the iron, eh? Well, just you trot back to your mistress and tell her that we know all about iron in Lancre. And I knows about her. She’s to keep away, under-stand? This is my place!”
Then it was moonlight. Now it was day.
There was quite a crowd in what passed for Lancre’s
71garden. There were the Herbs, and the soft fruit bushes, a bit of lawn and, of course, the bee-hives. And it was open to the woods. The local wildlife knew better than to invade a witch’s garden.Granny opened the door carefully.The moon was setting. Pale silver light turned the world into monochrome.There was a unicorn on the lawn. The stink of it hit her.Granny advanced, holding the poker in front of her. The unicorn backed away, and pawed at the ground.Granny saw the future plain. She already knew the when. Now she was beginning to apprehend the how.“So,” she said, under her breath, “I knows where

Mark Spain Timeless Beauty

Mark Spain Timeless BeautyMark Spain The Pink DressMark Spain Sevilla
we'd better get on with things," he said. "Every day."
Fasta Benj rowed home, in a thoughtful frame of mind.
It had been a He wasn't sure why lots of people would want to hit Pacha Moj's uncle with a big rock, but it definitely escalated the pace of technological progress.
not even Brutha, noticed that old Lu-Tze wasn't around any more. Not being noticed, either as being present or absent, is part of a history monk's stock in trade.very good few days. He'd met a lot of new people and sold quite a lot of fish. P'Tang-P'Tang, with his lesser servants, had talked personally to him, making him promise not to wage war on some place he'd never heard of. He'd agreed.[10]Some of the new people had shown him this amazing way of making lightning. You hit this rock with this piece of hard stuff and you got little bits of lightning which dropped on to dry stuff which got red and hot like the sun. If you put more wood on it got bigger and if you put a fish on it got black but if you were quick it didn't get black but got brown and tasted better than anything he'd ever tasted, although this was not difficult. And he'd been given some knives not made out of rock and cloth not made out of reeds and, all in all, life was looking up for Fasta Benj and his people.

Frida Kahlo Me and My Parrots

Frida Kahlo Me and My ParrotsFrida Kahlo Me and My DollFrida Kahlo Luther Burbank
Another pause. High overhead, an eagle circled, looking for tortoises.
"I am sure you have confused memories of our wanderings in the wilderness."
No."
"It is only to be expected. The sun, the thirst, the hunger . . ."
"No, lord. My memory does not confuse readily."
"Oh, yes. I recall."
"So do I, lord."Overhead, the spiraling dot that was the eagle appeared to hang motionless in the air for a moment. Then it folded its wings and fell-
"Much was given to me in the desert, Brutha. Much was learned. Now Vorbis turned his head slightly, looking sidelong at Brutha as if he was trying to hide behind his own face."In the desert, the Great God Om spoke to me.""Yes, lord. He did. Every day.""You have a mighty if simple faith, Brutha. When it comes to people, I am a great judge.""Yes, lord. Lord?""Yes, my Brutha?""Nhumrod said you led me through the desert, lord.""Remember what I said about fundamental truth, Brutha? Of course you do. There was a physical desert, indeed, but also a desert of the soul. My God led me, and I led you.""Ah. Yes. I see."

Juan Gris Man in the Cafe

Juan Gris Man in the CafeJuan Gris Landscape with Houses at CeretGeorge Bellows Club Night
These are the little waiting-rooms where visitors are handed on to the next guide. And here and there, set high in the tunnel roof over the more ingenious traps, are observation windows, because guards like a good laugh as much as anyoneit . . ."
The city of Ephebe surrounded them. Dogs barked. Somewhere a cat yowled. There was that general susurration of small comfortable sounds that shows that, out there, a lot of people are living their lives.
And then a door burst open down the street and there was the cracking noise of a quite large wine amphora being broken over someone's head.
A skinny old man in a toga picked himself up from the cobbles where he had else.All of this was totally lost on Brutha, who padded amiably along the tunnels and corridors without really thinking much about it, and at last pushed open the gate into the late evening air.It was fragrant with the scent of flowers. Moths whirred through the gloom."What do philosophers look like?" said Brutha, "When they're not having a bath, I mean.""They do a lot of thinking," said Om. "Look for someone with a strained expression.""That might just mean constipation.""Well, so long as they're philosophical about

Franz Marc yellow cow

Franz Marc yellow cowFranz Marc TigerFranz Marc StablesFranz Marc Foxes
boy," said Nhumrod. He patted as far up Brutha's back as he could reach. "Just you trot along," he said. "I'm sure everything will be all right." And then, because he too had been brought up in habits of honesty, he added, "were so many very old men in the Citadel.
Sand blew in all the time from the desert. Drifts built up on the steps and in the courtyards, despite everything that an army of brush-wielding novices could do.
But a tortoise has very inefficient legs.
"Thou Shall Build Shallower Steps," he hissed, hauling himself up.
Feet thundered past him, a few inches away. This was one of the main thoroughfares of the Citadel, leading to the Place of Lamentation, and was trodden by thousands of pilgrims every day.
Once or twice an errant sandal caught his shell and spun him around.Probably all right." There were few steps in the Citadel. The progress of the many processions that marked the complex rituals of Great Om demanded long, gentle slopes. Such steps as there were, were low enough to encompass the faltering steps of very old men. And there

Piet Mondrian Composition 2

Piet Mondrian Composition 2Steve Thoms PoppiesEdvard Munch Puberty 1894
giant's head turned towards him.
'Vot you want?' it said. 'Go avay, hot person.'
'Sorry, but is this really necessary?'
The giant 'Ve vant to,' said the giant. 'The gods are gone, ve throw off shackles of outmoded superstition.'
'Freezing the whole world solid doesn't sound very progressive to me,' said Nijel.
'Ve like it.'
'Yes, yes,' said Nijel, in the maniacally glazed tones of one who is trying to see all sides of the issue and is certain that a solution will be found if people of goodwill will only sit around a table looked at him in frozen astonishment. It turned around slowly and regarded the rest of the herd, which seemed to stretch all the way to the Hub. It looked at Nijel again.'Yarss,' it said, 'I tink so. Otherwise, why ve do it?''Only there's a lot of people out there who would prefer you not to, you see', said Nijel, desperately. A rock spire loomed briefly ahead of the glacier, rocked for a second and then vanished.He added, Also children and small furry animals.''They vill suffer in the cause of progress. Now is the time ve reclaim the world,' rumbled the giant. 'Whole vorld of ice. According to inevitability of history and triumph of thermo­dynamics.''Yes, but you don't have to,' said Nijel.

Paul Gauguin Joyousness

Paul Gauguin JoyousnessThomas Kinkade country livingHenri Matisse View of Collioure
someone dead.
This time theover his brocade and velvet the wizard wore a thick, padded overall stuffed with rowan shavings and embroidered with industrial-grade sigils. He'd affixed a smoked glass visor to his pointy hat and his gauntlets, which were extremely big, suggested that he was a wicket keeper in a game of cricket played at supersonic speeds. The actinic flashes and pulsations from the great work in the main hall cast harsh shadows around him as he fumbled for the bolts.
He pulled down the visor and opened the door a fraction. banging rattled the hinges.'One of us had better go out,' said the first wizard.'Good man.''Ah. Oh. Right.'He set off slowly down the short, arched passage.'I'll just go and see who it is, then?' he said.'First class.'It was a strange figure that made its hesitant way to the door. Ordinary robes weren't sufficient protection in the high-energy field inside tower, and

Pino MOTHER'S LOVE

Pino MOTHER'S LOVEPino Morning DreamsPino LONG STEMMED LOVELIES
Nevertheless, the wizards had made a few important improvements. Carding's robe, for example, had become a silk and lace confection of overpoweringly expensive tastelessness, and gave him the appearance of a big red jelly draped with antimacassars.
'It suits It made Spelter strangely uneasy. He felt out of place, as though he was wearing new clothes that itched. Of course, he was wearing new clothes and they did itch, but that wasn't the problem. The new world was all very nice, it was exactly how it should be, and yet, and yet - had he wanted to change, he thought, or had he only wanted things rearranged more suitably?
'I said, don't you think it was made for me?' said Carding.me, don't you think?' said Carding. He adjusted the hat brim, giving it an inappropriately rakish air.Spelter said nothing. He was looking out of the window.There had been a few improvements all right. It had been a busy day.The old stone walls had vanished. There were some rather nice railings now. Beyond them, the city fairly sparkled, a poem in white marble and red tiles. The river Ankh was no longer the silt-laden sewer he'd grown up knowing, but a glittering glass­clear ribbon in which - a nice touch - fat carp mouthed and swam in water pure as snowmelt.[12]From the air Ankh-Morpork must have been blinding. It gleamed. The detritus of millennia had been swept away.

William Bouguereau The Wave

William Bouguereau The WaveWilliam Bouguereau RestWilliam Bouguereau The Rapture of Psyche
expanded. One moment it was a toy in the boy's hands, and the next ...
... the wizards were standing on cool grass, in a shady meadow rolling down to the lake. There was a gentle breeze blowing from the mountains; it was scented with thyme and hay. The sky was deep blue shading to purple at 'It's not bad,' he said. 'I should like to come here again.' He moved his hands in a complicated motion that seemed, in some unexplained way, to turn them inside out.
Now the wizards were back in the hall, and the boy was holding the shrinking Garden in his palm. In the heavy, shocked silence he put it back into Billias's hands, and said: 'That was quite interesting. Now I will do some magic.'the zenith.The deer watched the newcomers suspiciously from their grazing ground under the trees.Spelter looked down in shock. A peacock was pecking at his bootlaces.'-' he began, and stopped. Coin was still holding a sphere, a sphere of air. Inside it, distorted as though seen through a fish­eye lens or the bottom of a bottle, was the Great Hall of Unseen University.The boy looked around at the trees, squinted thoughtfully at the distant, snow-capped mountains, and nodded at the astonished men.

Henri Rousseau A Carnival Evening

Henri Rousseau A Carnival EveningPaul Cezanne Three BathersPaul Cezanne The Black Clock
different floors, and there was a fountain and a grove of potted plants that looked too healthy to be real.
‘Isn’t it nice?’ said Doreen.
‘You keep thinking there should be people,’ said Ludmilla. ‘Lots of people.’
‘There should at least be wizards,’ muttered Windle Poons. ‘Half a dozen wizards don’t just disappear.’
The five of them moved closer. Passages the size of the one they’d just walked down could have ‘What’s that noise?’ said Ludmilla.
‘What noise?’
‘That noise. Like someone sucking something.’
Arthur looked around with a certain amount of interest.
‘It’s not me.’accommodated a couple of elephants walking abreast.‘Do you think it might be a good idea to go back outside?’ said Doreen.‘What good would that do?’ said Windle.‘Well, it’d get us out of here.’Windle turned, counting. Five of the passages radiated equidistantly-out of the domed area.‘And presumably it’s the same above and below, ‘ he said aloud.‘It’s very clean here, ‘ Doreen said nervously. ‘Isn’t it clean, Arthur?’‘It’s very clean.’

Franz Marc Foxes

Franz Marc FoxesFranz Marc fighting formsFranz Marc Fate of the Animals
You should have said that they were after you right from the start.’ said Miss Flitworth.’The Revenoo aren’t popular in these parts, you know. In my father’s day, any Revenooer came around here prying around by himself, we used to tie weights to their feet and heave ‘em into the pond.’
BUT THE POND IS ONLY A FEW INCHES DEEP, MISS FLITWORTH.
‘Yeah, but it was fun watching ‘em find out. You should have said.
Everyone thought you were to do with taxes.’
NO. NOT ‘Are you’re sure about tonight?’
YES.
‘And that blade will work, will it?’
I DON’T KNOW. IT’S A MILLION TO ONE CHANCE.
‘Oh.’ She seemed to be considering something.’So TAXES. ‘Well, well. I didn’t know there was a Revenoo Up There, too.’YES. IN A WAY.She sidled closer.‘When will he come?’TONIGHT. I CANNOT BE EXACT. TWO PEOPLE ARE LIVING ON THE SAME TIMER. IT MAKES THINGS UNCERTAIN.‘I didn’t know people could give people some of their life.’IT HAPPENS ALL THE TIME.

Thomas Kinkade Light of Freedom

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created, for example. They clearly must be created by their own believers, because a brief resume of the lives of most gods doesn’t stop. Belief goes right on believing. And since the focal point of belief had been lost, new points sprang up. Small as yet, not very powerful. The private deaths of every species, no longer united but specific.
In the stream, black-scaled, swam the new Death of Mayflies. In the forestssuggests that their origins certainly couldn’t be divine. They tend to do exactly the things people would do if only they could, especially when it comes to nymphs, golden showers, and the smiting of your enemies. Belief creates other things.It created Death. Not death, which is merely a technical term for a state caused by prolonged absence of life, but Death ?as? the personality. He evolved, as it were, along with life. As soon as a living thing was even dimly aware of the concept of suddenly becoming a non-living thing, there was Death. He was Death long before humans ever considered him; they only added the shape and all the scythe and robe business to a personality that was already millions of years old.And now he had gone. But belief

Vincent van Gogh Still Life with Open Bible

Vincent van Gogh Still Life with Open BibleVincent van Gogh Red vineyardsVincent van Gogh Lane with PoplarsVincent van Gogh Harvest LandscapeLeroy Neiman Sailing
What was being thought by most of the wizards was: this is terrible, is it really old Windle in there, he was such a sweet old buffer, how can we get rid of it?
How can we get n’d ofit?
What was being thought by Windle Poons, in the humming, flashing cockpit of his brain, was: well, it’s bye. There is life after death. And it’s the same one. Just my luck.
‘Well, ‘ he said, ‘ what’re you going to do about it?’
It was five minutes later. Half a dozen of the most senior wizards scurried along the draughty corridor in the wake of the Archchancellor, whose robes billowed ?out? behind him.
The !’
‘- it’s got a lovely view of the gardens and I’ve had all my stuff moved in
and it’s not fair -‘
‘Has this ever happened before?’
‘Well, there was old Teatar -‘
‘Yes, but he never actually died, he just used to put green paint on his face and push the lid off the coffin and shout “Surprise, surprise -“ ‘ ‘We’ve never had a zombie conversation went like this:‘It’s got to be Windle! It even talks like him!’‘It’s not old Windle. Old Windle was a lot older!’‘Older? Older than dead?’‘He’s said he wants his old bedroom back, and I don’t see why I should have to move out -‘ ‘Did you see his eyes? Like gimlets !’‘Eh? What? What d’you mean? You mean like that dwarf who runs the delicatessen on Cable Street?’‘I mean like they bore into you