Jack Vettriano Sweet Bird of Youth

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INTERESTING STORIES BEHIND THEM, BUT WHAT YOU KNOW IS THAT REALLY THERE ARE JUST DULL, DULL SOULS,
MERE CONSUMERS OF FOOD, WHO THINK THEIR INSTINCTS ARE EMOTIONS AND THEIR TINY LIVES OF MORE ACCOUNT THAN A WHISPER OF WIND.
The blue glow was bottomless. It seemed to be sucking her own thoughts out of her mind.
'No,' whispered .
He advanced slowly towards her. His voice, when it came, was a hiss.
YOU SAY THAT TO ME? YOU STAND THERE IN YOUR PRETTY DRESS AND Susan, 'no, I've never thought like that.'Death stood up abruptly and turned away. YOU MAY FIND THAT IT HELPS, he said.'But it's all just chaos,' said Susan. 'There's no sense to the way people die. There's no justice!'HAH.'You take a hand,' she persisted. 'You just saved my father.'I WAS FOOLISH. TO CHANGE THE FATE OF ONE INDIVIDUAL IS TO CHANGE THE WORLD. I REMEMBER THAT. SO SHOULD YOU.Death still hadn't turned to face her.'I don't see why we shouldn't change things if it makes the world better,' said Susan.HAH.'Are you too scared to change the world?'Death turned. The very sight of his expression made Susan back away

Gustav Klimt Schloss Kammer Am Attersee II

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em­bodiment of them all as he scuttled around the kitchen, grabbing at the air.
She sat in the chair as he danced past.
Albert stopped moving, and put his hand over one eye. Then he turned, very carefully. The one visible eye was screwed up in a frantic effort of concentration.
He squinted at a girl means a small girl. He thinks you may have misheard me.'
Susan hunched up in the chair.
Albert pulled up another one and sat down.the chair, his eye watering with effort.'That's pretty good,' he said, quietly. 'All right. You're here. The rat and the horse brought you. Damn fool things. They think it's the right thing to do.''What right thing to do?' said Susan. 'And I'm not a . . . what you said.'Albert stared at her.'The Master could do that,' he said at last. 'It's part of the job. I 'spect you found you could do it a long time ago, eh? Not be noticed when you didn't want to be?'SQUEAK, said the Death of Rats.'What?' said Albert.SQUEAK.'He says to tell you,' said Albert wearily, 'that a chit of

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already a couple of ushers in place, ready to ask guests whose side they were on.
And there were a number of senior wizards hanging around. They were automatically guests at such a society wedding, and certainly at the reception afterwards. Probably one roast ox wouldn't be enough.
Despite his deep distrust of magic, he quite liked the wizards. They didn't cause trouble. At least, they didn't cause his kind of trouble. by Nature to live outdoors and happily slaughter anything that coughed in the bushes, why the Bursar (a man designed by Nature to sit in a small room somewhere, adding up figures) was so nervous. He'd tried all sorts of things to, as he put it, buck him up. These included practical jokes, surprise early morning runs, and leaping out at him from behind doors while wearing WiTrue, occasionally they fractured the time/space continuum or took the canoe of reality too close to the white waters of chaos, but they never broke the actual law.'Good morning, Archchancellor,' he said.Archchancellor Mustrum Ridcully, supreme leader of all the wizards in Ankh-Morpork whenever they could be bothered, gave him a cheery nod.'Good morning, captain,' he said. 'I must say you've got a nice day for it!''Hahaha, a nice day for it!' leered the Bursar.'Oh dear,' said Ridcully, 'he's off again. Can't understand the man. Anyone got the dried frog pills?'It was a complete mystery to Mustrum Ridcully, a man designed llie the Vampire masks in order, he said, to take him

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student fails to treat an old magical book with the caution it deserves.
Consider orang-utans.
In all the worlds graced by their presence, it is suspected that they can talk but choose not to do so in case humans put them to work, possibly in the television industry. In fact they can talk. It's just that they talk in Otang-utan. Humans are only capable of listening in Bewilderment.
The Librarian of sing.
The chthonic voices went something like this:
'Dlog, glod, Dlog, glod—'
'Listen, you . . . troll! It's the simplest song there is. Look, like this "Gold, Gold, Gold, Gold"?'
'Gold, Gold, Gold, Gold—'
'No! That's the second verse!'Unseen University had unilaterally decided to aid comprehension by producing ar.Orang-utan/Human Dictionary. He'd been working on it for three months.It wasn't easy. He'd got as far as He was down in the Stacks, where it was cool.And suddenly someone was singing.He took the pen out of his foot and listened.A human would have decided they couldn't believe their ears. Orangs are more sensible. If you won't believe your own ears, whose ears will you believe?Someone was singing, underground. Or trying to

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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

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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

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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.