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
Monday, March 9, 2009
Friday, March 6, 2009
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
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
Thursday, March 5, 2009
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
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
Edward Hopper Portrait of OrleansEdward Hopper Pont du Carrousel in the FogEdward Hopper Painter and ModelEdward Hopper Office in a Small City
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.
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.
Tuesday, March 3, 2009
Paul Gauguin The Loss of Virginity
Paul Gauguin The Loss of VirginityPaul Gauguin Tahitian WomanPaul Gauguin JoyousnessThomas Kinkade country living
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.
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.
Monday, March 2, 2009
John William Waterhouse The Sorceress
John William Waterhouse The SorceressJohn William Waterhouse The Enchanted GardenJohn William Waterhouse Psyche Entering Cupid's GardenJohn William Waterhouse Nymphs Finding the Head of Orpheus
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
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
Jean Fragonard The Fountain of LoveJoaquin Sorolla y Bastida Valencia's PortJoaquin Sorolla y Bastida The Pink RobeJoaquin Sorolla y Bastida Port of Valencia
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
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
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