Wednesday, January 30, 2008

the last supper painting

the last supper painting
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sensation for years.The fact that it was August and that the papers werehard up for subject matter would make matters worse. "Eh bien,"said Poirot."It is possible that publicity may do whatprivate efforts have failed to do.The whole country now will be looking forA B C." "Unfortunately,"I said,"that's what he wants."
oil paintings "True.But it may,all the same,be his undoing.Gratified by success,hemay become careless......That is what I hope-that he may be drunk with hisown cleverness." "How odd all this is,Poirot,"I exclaimed,struck suddenly by an idea. "Do you know,this is the first crime of this kind that you and I haveworked on together?All our murders have been-well,private murders,so tospeak."

Monday, January 28, 2008

China oil paintings

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"You see,mademoiselle,that the information for which I ask you cangive freely without wondering whether or not it will hurt anyone." "Yes,I see that now." "Then let us continue our conversation.I have formed the idea that thisDonald Fraser has,perhaps,a violent and jealous temper,is that right?" Megan Barnard said quietly: "I'm trusting you now,M.Poirot.I'm going to give you the absolutetruth.Don is,as I say,a very quiet person-a bottled-up person,if you knowwhat I mean.He can't always express what he feels in words.But underneath itall he minds things terribly.And he's got a jealous nature.
oil paintings He was always jealous of Betty.He was devoted to her-and of course shewas very fond of him,but it wasn't in Betty to be fond of one person andnot notice anybody else.She wasn't made that way.She'd got a -well,an eyefor any nice-looking man who'd pass the time of day with her.And of course,

leonardo da vinci last supper painting

the last supper painting
picture of the last supper
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I wish to God I could give you some help-but the plain fact is I knownothing-nothing at all that can help you to find the dastardly scoundrel whodid this.Betty was just a merry,happy girl-with a decent young fellow thatshe was-well,we'd have called it walking out with in my young days. Why anyone should want to murder her simply beats me-it doesn't makesense. ""You're very near the truth there,Mr Barnard,"said Crome."I tell youwhat I'd like to do-have a look over Miss Barnard's room.There may besomething-letters-or a diary."
oil paintings "Look over it and welcome,"said Mr Barnard,rising. He led the way.Crome followed him,then Poirot,the Kelsey,and Ibrought up the rear. I stopped for a minute to retie my shoelaces,and as I did so a taxidrew up outside and a girl jumped out of it.She paid the driver and hurriedup the path to the house,carrying a small suitcase.As she entered the doorshe saw me and stopped dead.

Sunday, January 27, 2008

Evening Mood painting

Evening Mood painting
female nude reclining
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Gather ye rosebuds while ye may
discussion,- upon life, of course,- and, grown overbold, I was passing stiff strictures upon Wolf Larsen and the life of Wolf Larsen. In fact, I was vivisecting him and turning over his soul-stuff as keenly and thoroughly as it was his custom to do it to others. It may be a weakness of mine that I have an incisive way of speech, but I threw all restraint to the winds and cut and slashed until the whole man of him was snarling. The dark sun-bronze of his face went black with wrath; his eyes became ablaze. There was no clearness or sanity in them- nothing but the terrific rage
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of a madman. It was the wolf in him that I saw, and a mad wolf at that. ¡¡¡¡He sprang for me with a half-roar, gripping my arm. I had steeled myself to brazen it out, though I was trembling inwardly; but the enormous strength of the man was too much for my fortitude. He had gripped me by the biceps with his single hand, and when that grip tightened I wilted and shrieked aloud. My feet went out from under me. I simply could not stand

Boulevard des Capucines

Claude Monet Boulevard des Capucines
Boulevard des Capucines
Charity painting
Christ In The Storm On The Sea Of Galilee
Dance Me to the End of Love
DAYS OF REST, THREE blessed days of rest, are what I had with Wolf Larsen, eating at the cabin table and doing nothing but discuss life, literature, and the universe, the while Thomas Mugridge fumed and raged and did my work as well as his own. ¡¡¡¡'Watch out for squalls, is all I can say to you,' was Louis's warning, given during a spare half-hour on deck while Wolf Larsen was engaged in straightening out a row among the hunters. ¡¡¡¡'
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Ye can't tell what'll be happenin',' Louis went on, in response to my query for more definite information. 'The man's as contrary as air-currents or water-currents. You can never guess the ways iv him. 'T is just as you're thinkin' you know him an' are makin' a favorable slant along him that he whirls around, dead ahead, an' comes howlin' down upon you an' a-rippin' all iv your fine-weather sails to rags.' ¡¡¡¡So I was not altogether surprised when the squall foretold by Louis smote me. We had been having a heated

Claude Monet Boulevard des Capucines

Claude Monet Boulevard des Capucines
Boulevard des Capucines
Charity painting
Christ In The Storm On The Sea Of Galilee
Dance Me to the End of Love
DAYS OF REST, THREE blessed days of rest, are what I had with Wolf Larsen, eating at the cabin table and doing nothing but discuss life, literature, and the universe, the while Thomas Mugridge fumed and raged and did my work as well as his own. ¡¡¡¡'Watch out for squalls, is all I can say to you,' was Louis's warning, given during a spare half-hour on deck while Wolf Larsen was engaged in straightening out a row among the hunters. ¡¡¡¡'
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Ye can't tell what'll be happenin',' Louis went on, in response to my query for more definite information. 'The man's as contrary as air-currents or water-currents. You can never guess the ways iv him. 'T is just as you're thinkin' you know him an' are makin' a favorable slant along him that he whirls around, dead ahead, an' comes howlin' down upon you an' a-rippin' all iv your fine-weather sails to rags.' ¡¡¡¡So I was not altogether surprised when the squall foretold by Louis smote me. We had been having a heated

A Lily Pond

A Lily Pond
Absence Makes the Heart Grow Fonder
American Day Dream
Biblis painting
his reasoning was its strength, and his materialism was far more compelling than the subtly complex materialism of Charley Furuseth. Not that I, a confirmed, and, as Furuseth phrased it, a temperamental, idealist, was to be compelled; but that Wolf Larsen stormed the last strongholds of my faith with a vigor that received respect while not accorded conviction. ¡¡¡¡Time passed. Supper was at hand and the table not laid. I became restless and
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anxious, and when Thomas Mugridge glared down the companionway, sick and angry of countenance, I prepared to go about my duties. But Wolf Larsen cried out to him': ¡¡¡¡'Cooky, you've got to hustle tonight. I'm busy with Hump, and you'll do the best you can without him.' ¡¡¡¡And again the unprecedented was established. That night I sat at table with the captain and the hunters, while Thomas Mugridge waited on us and washed the dishes afterward- a whim, a Caliban-mood of Wolf Larsen's, and one I foresaw would bring me trouble. In the meantime we talked and talked, much to the disgust of the hunters, who could not understand a word.

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¡¡¡¡He shrugged his shoulders. 'You know you only mean that in relation to human life, for of the flesh and the fowl and the fish you destroy as much as I or any other man. And human life is in no wise different, though you feel it is and think that you reason why it is. Why should I be parsimonious with this life which is cheap and without value? There are more sailors than there are ships on the sea for them, more workers than there are factories or machines
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for them. Why, you who live on the land know that you house your poor people in the slums of cities and loose famine and pestilence upon them, and that there still remain more poor people, dying for want of a crust of bread and a bit of meat (which is life destroyed), than you know what to do with. Have you ever seen the London dockers fighting like wild beasts for a chance to work?'

the last supper

the last supper
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picture of the last supper
leonardo da vinci last supper painting
¡¡¡¡'We were talking about this yesterday,' he said. 'I held that life was a ferment, a yeasty something which devoured life that it might live, and that living was merely successful piggishness. Why, if there is anything in supply and demand, life is the cheapest thing in the world. There is only so much water, so much earth, so much air; but the life that is demanding to be born is limitless. Nature is a spendthrift. Look at the fish and their millions of eggs.
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For that matter, look at you and me. In our loins are the possibilities of millions of lives. Could we but find time and opportunity and utilize the last bit and every bit of the unborn life that is in us, we could become the fathers of nations and populate continents. Life? Bah! It has no value. Of cheap things it is the cheapest. Everywhere it goes begging. Nature spills it out with a lavish hand. Where there is room for one life, she sows a thousand lives, and it's life eat life till the strongest and most piggish life is left.' ¡¡¡¡'You have read Darwin,' I said. 'But you read him misunderstandingly when you conclude that the struggle for existence sanctions your wanton destruction of life.'

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acquired by losing my balance in a roll of the ship and pitching against the galley stove. Nor was my knee any better. The swelling had not gone down, and the cap was still up on edge. Hobbling about on it from morning to night was not helping it any. What I needed was rest, if it were ever to get well. ¡¡¡¡Rest! I never before knew the meaning of the word. I had been resting all my life and did not know it. But now could I sit still for one half-hour and do nothing, not even think, it would be the most pleasurable thing in the world. But it is a revelation, on the other hand. I shall
oil painting
be able to appreciate the lives of the working-people hereafter. I did not dream that work was so terrible a thing. From half-past five in the morning till ten o'clock at night I am everybody's slave, with not one moment to myself except such as I can steal near the end of the second dog-watch. Let me pause for a minute to look out over the sea sparkling in the sun, or to gaze at a sailor going aloft to the gaff topsails or running out the bowsprit, and I am sure to hear the hateful voice, ''Ere, you, 'Ump! No sodgerin'! I've got my peepers on yer.'

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mona lisa painting
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born a gentleman, an' never 'ad to work for yer livin'." God strike me dead, 'Ump, if that ayn't wot 'e says, an' me a-sittin' there in 'is own cabin, jolly- like an' comfortable, a-smokin' 'is cigars an' drinkin' 'is rum.' ¡¡¡¡This chitter-chatter drove me to distraction. I never heard a voice I hated so. His oily, insinuating tones, his greasy smile, and his monstrous self-conceit grated on my nerves till sometimes I was all in a tremble. Positively he was the most disgusting and
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loathsome person I have ever met. The filth of his cooking was indescribable; and as he cooked everything that was eaten aboard, I was compelled to select with great circumspection what I ate, choosing from the least dirty of his concoctions. ¡¡¡¡My hands bothered me a great deal, unused as they were to work. The nails were discolored and black, while the skin was already grained with dirt which even a scrubbing-brush could not remove. Then blisters came, in a painful and never-ending procession, and I had a great burn on my forearm

The Birth of Venus

The Birth of Venus
Marc Chagall Painting
Henri Matisse Painting
Van Gogh Painting
there was very little reasoning or none at all. Their method was one of assertion, assumption, and denunciation. They proved that a seal-pup could swim or not swim at birth by stating the proposition very bellicosely and then following it up with an attack on the opposing man's judgment, common sense, nationality, or past history. Rebuttal was similar in all respects. I have related this in order to show the mental caliber of the men with whom I was thrown in contact. Intellectually they were children, inhabiting the physical bodies of men. ¡¡¡¡And they smoked, incessantly smoked
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, using a coarse, cheap, and offensive-smelling tobacco. The air was thick and murky with the smoke of it; and this, combined with the violent movement of the ship as she struggled through the storm, would surely have made me seasick had I been a victim to that malady. As it was, it made me quite squeamish, though this nausea might have been due to the pain of my leg and my exhaustion. ¡¡¡¡As I lay there thinking, I naturally dwelt upon myself and my situation. It was unparalleled, undreamed-of, that I, Humphrey Van Weyden, a scholar and a dilettante, if you please, in things artistic and literary, should be lying here on a Bering Sea seal-hunting schooner. Cabin-boy! I had never done any hard manual labor, or scullion labor, in my life. I had lived a

Modern Art Painting

Modern Art Painting
Gustav Klimt The Kiss
Gustav Klimt Painting
William Bouguereau
¡¡¡¡He was doing it now, vociferating, bellowing, waving his arms, and cursing like a fiend, and all because of a disagreement with another hunter as to whether a seal-pup knew instinctively how to swim. He held that it did; that it could swim the moment it was born. The other hunter, Latimer, a lean Yankee-looking fellow, with shrewd, narrow-slitted eyes, held otherwise; held that the seal-pup was born on the land for no other reason than that it could not swim;
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that its mother was compelled to teach it to swim, as birds were compelled to teach their nestlings how to fly. ¡¡¡¡For the most part, the remaining four hunters leaned on the table or lay in their bunks and left the discussion to the two antagonists. But they were supremely interested, for every little while they ardently took sides, and sometimes all were talking at once, till their voices surged back and forth in waves of sound like mimic thunder-rolls in the confined space. Childish and immaterial as the topic was, the quality of their reasoning was still more childish and immaterial. In truth

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But it was the cold that was most distressing. I felt that I could survive but a few minutes. People were struggling and floundering in the water about me. I could hear them crying out to one another. And I heard, also, the sound of oars. Evidently the strange steamboat had lowered its boats. As the time went by I marveled that I was still alive. I had no sensation whatever in my lower limbs, while a chilling numbness was wrapping about my heart and creeping into it. Small waves, with spiteful foaming crests, continually broke over me and into my mouth, sending me off into
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more strangling paroxysms. ¡¡¡¡The noises grew indistinct, though I heard a final and despairing chorus of screams in the distance and knew that the Martinez had gone down. Later,- how much later I have no knowledge,- I came to myself with a start of fear. I was alone, I could hear no calls or cries- only the sound of the waves, made weirdly hollow and reverberant by the fog. A panic in a crowd, which partakes of a sort of community of interest, is not so terrible as a panic when one is by oneself; and such a panic I now suffered. Whither was I drifting? The red-faced man had said that the tide was ebbing through the Golden Gate. Was I, then, being carried out to sea? And the life-preserver in which I floated? was it not liable to go to pieces at any

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been abandoned. Nothing was to be seen of the strange steamboat which had caused the disaster, though I heard men saying that she would undoubtedly send boats to our assistance. ¡¡¡¡I descended to the lower deck. The Martinez was sinking fast, for the water was very near. Numbers of the passengers were leaping overboard. Others, in the water, were clamoring to be taken aboard again. No one heeded them. A cry arose that we were sinking. I was s
oil painting
eized by the consequent panic, and went over the side in a surge of bodies. How I went over I do not know, though I did know, and instantly, why those in the water were so desirous of getting back on the steamer. The water was cold- so cold that it was painful. The pang, as I plunged into it, was as quick and sharp as that of fire. It bit to the marrow. It was like the grip of death. I gasped with the anguish and shock of it, filling my lungs before the life-preserver popped me to the surface. The taste of the salt was strong in my mouth, and I was strangling with the acrid stuff in my throat and lungs.

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I remember the scene impelled me to sudden laughter, and in the next instant I realized that I was becoming hysterical myself; for these were women, of my own kind, like my mother and sisters, with the fear of death upon them and unwilling to die. And I remember that the sounds they made reminded me of the squealing of pigs under the knife of the butcher, and I was struck with horror at the vividness of the analogy. These women, capable of the most sublime
oil painting
emotions, of the tenderest sympathies, were open-mouthed and screaming. They wanted to live; they were helpless, like rats in a trap, and they screamed. ¡¡¡¡The horror of it drove me out on deck. I was feeling sick and squeamish, and sat down on a bench. In a hazy way I saw and heard men rushing and shouting as they strove to lower the boats. It was just as I had read descriptions of such scenes in books. The tackles jammed. Nothing worked. One boat lowered away with the plugs out, filled with women and children and then with water, and capsized. Another boat had been lowered by one end and still hung in the tackle by the other end where it had

Friday, January 25, 2008

Sweet Nothings

Sweet Nothings
The Abduction of Psyche
The British Are Coming
The Broken Pitcher
indulgence, without the wholesome alloy of labour, and I do not like to eat the bread of idleness. No, my plan is to make Fanny Price in love with me." ¡¡¡¡ "Fanny Price! Nonsense! No, no. You ought to be satisfied with her two cousins." ¡¡¡¡ "But I cannot be satisfied without Fanny Price, without making a small hole in Fanny Price's heart. You do not seem properly aware of her claims to notice. When we talked of her last night, you none of you seemed sensible of the wonderful improvement that has taken place in her looks within the last six weeks. You see her every day,
oil painting
and therefore do not notice it; but I assure you she is quite a different creature from what she was in the autumn. She was then merely a quiet, modest, not plain-looking girl, but she is now absolutely pretty. I used to think she had neither complexion nor countenance; but in that soft skin of hers, so frequently tinged with a blush as it was yesterday, there is decided beauty; and from what I observed of her eyes and mouth, I do not despair of their being capable of expression enough when she has anything to express. And then, her air, her manner, her _tout_ _ensemble_, is so indescribably improved! She must be grown two inches, at least, since October."

The Abduction of Psyche

The Abduction of Psyche
The British Are Coming
The Broken Pitcher
The Jewel Casket
no true attachment, by fixing himself in a situation which he must know she would never stoop to. She would learn to match him in his indifference. She would henceforth admit his attentions without any idea beyond immediate amusement. If _he_ could so command his affections, _hers_ should do her no harm.¡¡¡¡CHAPTER XXIV ¡¡¡¡ Henry Crawford had quite made up his mind by the next morning to give another fortnight to Mansfield, and having sent for his hunters, and written a few lines of explanation to the Admiral, he looked round at his sister as he sealed and threw the letter from him,
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and seeing the coast clear of the rest of the family, said, with a smile, "And how do you think I mean to amuse myself, Mary, on the days that I do not hunt? I am grown too old to go out more than three times a week; but I have a plan for the intermediate days, and what do you think it is?" ¡¡¡¡ "To walk and ride with me, to be sure." ¡¡¡¡ "Not exactly, though I shall be happy to do both, but _that_ would be exercise only to my body, and I must take care of my mind. Besides, _that_ would be all recreation and

The British Are Coming

The British Are Coming
The Broken Pitcher
The Jewel Casket
The Kitchen Maid
Dr. Grant, by his attentive wife, though it was not to be supposed so--and Miss Crawford took her harp, she had nothing to do but to listen; and her tranquillity remained undisturbed the rest of the evening, except when Mr. Crawford now and then addressed to her a question or observation, which she could not avoid answering. Miss Crawford was too much vexed by what had passed to be in a humour for anything but music. With that she soothed herself
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and amused her friend. ¡¡¡¡ The assurance of Edmund's being so soon to take orders, coming upon her like a blow that had been suspended, and still hoped uncertain and at a distance, was felt with resentment and mortification. She was very angry with him. She had thought her influence more. She _had_ begun to think of him; she felt that she had, with great regard, with almost decided intentions; but she would now meet him with his own cool feelings. It was plain that he could have no serious views

The Birth of Venus

The Birth of Venus
Marc Chagall Painting
Henri Matisse Painting
Van Gogh Painting
of her happiness with him. ¡¡¡¡ Sir Thomas was satisfied; too glad to be satisfied, perhaps, to urge the matter quite so far as his judgment might have dictated to others. It was an alliance which he could not have relinquished without pain; and thus he reasoned. Mr. Rushworth was young enough to improve. Mr. Rushworth must and would improve in good society; and if Maria could now speak so securely of her happiness with him, speaking certainly
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without the prejudice, the blindness of love, she ought to be believed. Her feelings, probably, were not acute; he had never supposed them to be so; but her comforts might not be less on that account; and if she could dispense with seeing her husband a leading, shining character, there would certainly be everything else in her favour. A well-disposed young woman, who did not marry for love, was in general but the more attached to her own family

Henri Matisse Painting

Henri Matisse Painting
Van Gogh Painting
Van Gogh Sunflower
Edward Hopper Painting
He had expected a very different son-in-law; and beginning to feel grave on Maria's account, tried to understand _her_ feelings. Little observation there was necessary to tell him that indifference was the most favourable state they could be in. Her behaviour to Mr. Rushworth was careless and cold. She could not, did not like him. Sir Thomas resolved to speak seriously to her. Advantageous as would be the alliance, and long standing and public as was the engagement, her happiness must not be sacrificed to it. Mr. Rushworth had, perhaps, been accepted on too short an
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acquaintance, and, on knowing him better, she was repenting. ¡¡¡¡ With solemn kindness Sir Thomas addressed her: told her his fears, inquired into her wishes, entreated her to be open and sincere, and assured her that every inconvenience should be braved, and the connexion entirely given up, if she felt herself unhappy in the prospect of it. He would act for her and release her. Maria had a moment's struggle as she listened, and only a moment's: when her father ceased, she was able to give her answer immediately, decidedly, and with no apparent agitation. She thanked him for his great attention, his paternal kindness, but he was quite mistaken in supposing she had the smallest desire of breaking through her engageme

Van Gogh Sunflower

Van Gogh Sunflower
Edward Hopper Painting
Mary Cassatt painting
Jack Vettriano Painting
"To-morrow, I think, my uncle dines at Sotherton, and you and Mr. Bertram too. We shall be quite a small party at home. I hope my uncle may continue to like Mr. Rushworth." ¡¡¡¡ "That is impossible, Fanny. He must like him less after to-morrow's visit, for we shall be five hours in his company. I should dread the stupidity of the day, if there were not a much greater evil to follow-- the impression it must leave on Sir Thomas. He cannot much longer deceive himself.
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I am sorry for them all, and would give something that Rushworth and Maria had never met." ¡¡¡¡ In this quarter, indeed, disappointment was impending over Sir Thomas. Not all his good-will for Mr. Rushworth, not all Mr. Rushworth's deference for him, could prevent him from soon discerning some part of the truth-- that Mr. Rushworth was an inferior young man, as ignorant in business as in books, with opinions in general unfixed, and without seeming much aware of it himself.

Wednesday, January 23, 2008

China oil paintings

China oil paintings
contemporary abstract painting
painting idea
floral oil painting
"I believe I have, but this is hardly fair; I see what you are at. You are quizzing me and Miss Anderson." ¡¡¡¡ "No, indeed. Miss Anderson! I do not know who or what you mean. I am quite in the dark. But I _will_ quiz you with a great deal of pleasure, if you will tell me what about." ¡¡¡¡ "Ah! you carry it off very well, but I cannot be quite so far imposed on. You must have had Miss Anderson in your eye, in describing an altered young lady. You paint too accurately for mistake. It was exactly so. The Andersons of Baker Street. We were speaking of them the other day, you know. Edmund,
oil painting
you have heard me mention Charles Anderson. The circumstance was precisely as this lady has represented it. When Anderson first introduced me to his family, about two years ago, his sister was not _out_, and I could not get her to speak to me. I sat there an hour one morning waiting for Anderson, with only her and a little girl or two in the room, the governess being sick or run away, and the mother in and out every moment with letters of business, and I could hardly get a word or a look from the young lady-- nothing like a civil answer--she screwed up her mouth, and turned from me with

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michelangelo painting
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¡¡¡¡ Edmund, to whom this was chiefly addressed, replied, "I believe I know what you mean, but I will not undertake to answer the question. My cousin is grown up. She has the age and sense of a woman, but the outs and not outs are beyond me." ¡¡¡¡ "And yet, in general, nothing can be more easily ascertained. The distinction is so broad. Manners as well as appearance are, generally speaking, so totally different. Till now, I could not have supposed it possible to be mistaken as to a girl's being out or not. A girl not out has always the same sort of dress: a close bonnet, for instance; l
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ooks very demure, and never says a word. You may smile, but it is so, I assure you; and except that it is sometimes carried a little too far, it is all very proper. Girls should be quiet and modest. The most objectionable part is, that the alteration of manners on being introduced into company is frequently too sudden. They sometimes pass in such very little time from reserve to quite the opposite--to confidence! _That_ is the faulty part of the present system. One does not like to see a girl of eighteen or nineteen so immediately up to every thing--and perhaps when one has seen her hardly able to speak the year before. Mr. Bertram, I dare say _you_ have sometimes met with such changes."

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¡¡¡¡ These races were to call him away not long after their acquaintance began; and as it appeared that the family did not, from his usual goings on, expect him back again for many weeks, it would bring his passion to an early proof. Much was said on his side to induce her to attend the races, and schemes were made for a large party to them, with all the eagerness of inclination, but it would only do to be talked of. ¡¡¡¡ And Fanny, what was _she_ doing and thinking all this while? and what was _her_ opinion of the newcomers? Few young ladies of eighteen could be less called on to speak
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their opinion than Fanny. In a quiet way, very little attended to, she paid her tribute of admiration to Miss Crawford's beauty; but as she still continued to think Mr. Crawford very plain, in spite of her two cousins having repeatedly proved the contrary, she never mentioned _him_. The notice, which she excited herself, was to this effect. "I begin now to understand you all, except Miss Price," said Miss Crawford, as she was walking with the Mr. Bertrams. "Pray, is she out, or is she not? I am puzzled. She dined at the Parsonage, with the rest of you, which seemed like being _out_; and yet she says so little, that I can hardly suppose she _is_."

the last supper painting

the last supper painting
picture of the last supper
leonardo da vinci last supper painting
forbidden by Sir Thomas, they felt themselves immediately at their own disposal, and to have every indulgence within their reach. Fanny's relief, and her consciousness of it, were quite equal to her cousins'; but a more tender nature suggested that her feelings were ungrateful, and she really grieved because she could not grieve. "Sir Thomas, who had done so much for her and her brothers, and who was gone perhaps never to return! that she should see him go withou
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t a tear! it was a shameful insensibility." He had said to her, moreover, on the very last morning, that he hoped she might see William again in the course of the ensuing winter, and had charged her to write and invite him to Mansfield as soon as the squadron to which he belonged should be known to be in England. "This was so thoughtful and kind!" and would he only have smiled upon her, and called her "my dear Fanny," while he said it, every former frown or cold address might have been forgotten. But he had ended his speech in a way to sink her in sad mortification

leonardo da vinci last supper painting

leonardo da vinci last supper painting
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¡¡¡¡ The necessity of the measure in a pecuniary light, and the hope of its utility to his son, reconciled Sir Thomas to the effort of quitting the rest of his family, and of leaving his daughters to the direction of others at their present most interesting time of life. He could not think Lady Bertram quite equal to supply his place with them, or rather, to perform what should have been her own; but, in Mrs. Norris's watchful attention, and in Edmund's judgment, he had sufficient confidence to make him go without fears for their conduct. ¡¡¡¡ Lady Bertram did not at all like to have her husband leave
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her; but she was not disturbed by any alarm for his safety, or solicitude for his comfort, being one of those persons who think nothing can be dangerous, or difficult, or fatiguing to anybody but themselves. ¡¡¡¡ The Miss Bertrams were much to be pitied on the occasion: not for their sorrow, but for their want of it. Their father was no object of love to them; he had never seemed the friend of their pleasures, and his absence was unhappily most welcome. They were relieved by it from all restraint; and without aiming at one gratification that would probably have been

Head of Christ

Head of Christ
Hylas and the Nymphs
jesus christ on the cross
klimt painting the kiss
"Oh! I do not say so." ¡¡¡¡ "I must say it, and say it with pleasure. Mrs. Norris is much better fitted than my mother for having the charge of you now. She is of a temper to do a great deal for anybody she really interests herself about, and she will force you to do justice to your natural powers." ¡¡¡¡ Fanny sighed, and said, "I cannot see things as you do; but I ought to believe you to be right rather than myself, and I am very much obliged to you for
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trying to reconcile me to what must be. If I could suppose my aunt really to care for me, it would be delightful to feel myself of consequence to anybody. _ Here_, I know, I am of none, and yet I love the place so well." ¡¡¡¡ "The place, Fanny, is what you will not quit, though you quit the house. You will have as free a command of the park and gardens as ever. Even _your_ constant little heart need not take fright at such a nominal change. You will have the same walks to frequent, the same library to choose from, the same people to look at, the same horse to ride."

Evening Mood painting

vening Mood painting
female nude reclining
flaming june painting
Gather ye rosebuds while ye may
"As to your foolishness and awkwardness, my dear Fanny, believe me, you never have a shadow of either, but in using the words so improperly. There is no reason in the world why you should not be important where you are known. You have good sense, and a sweet temper, and I am sure you have a grateful heart, that could never receive kindness without wishing to return it. I do not know any better qualifications for a friend and companion." ¡¡¡¡ "You are too kind," said Fanny, colouring at such praise; "how shall I ever thank you as I ought, for thinking so well of me. Oh!
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cousin, if I am to go away, I shall remember your goodness to the last moment of my life." ¡¡¡¡ "Why, indeed, Fanny, I should hope to be remembered at such a distance as the White House. You speak as if you were going two hundred miles off instead of only across the park; but you will belong to us almost as much as ever. The two families will be meeting every day in the year. The only difference will be that, living with your aunt, you will necessarily be brought forward as you ought to be. Here there are too many whom you can hide behind; but with her you will be forced to speak for yourself."

A Greek Beauty

A Greek Beauty
A Lily Pond
Absence Makes the Heart Grow Fonder
American Day Dream
¡¡¡¡ "Well, Fanny, and if the plan were not unpleasant to you, I should call it an excellent one." ¡¡¡¡ "Oh, cousin!" ¡¡¡¡ "It has everything else in its favour. My aunt is acting like a sensible woman in wishing for you. She is choosing a friend and companion exactly where she ought, and I am glad her love of money does not interfere. You will be what you ought to be to her. I hope it does not distress you very much, Fanny?" ¡¡¡¡ "Indeed it does:
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I cannot like it. I love this house and everything in it: I shall love nothing there. You know how uncomfortable I feel with her." ¡¡¡¡ "I can say nothing for her manner to you as a child; but it was the same with us all, or nearly so. She never knew how to be pleasant to children. But you are now of an age to be treated better; I think she is behaving better already; and when you are her only companion, you _must_ be important to her." ¡¡¡¡ "I can never be important to any one." ¡¡¡¡ "What is to prevent you?" ¡¡¡¡ "Everything. My situation, my foolishness and awkwardness."

Tuesday, January 22, 2008

Mother and Child

Mother and Child
My Sweet Rose painting
Naiade oil painting
Nighthawks Hopper
¡¡¡¡`Hope the next will end better,' muttered Jo, who found it very hard to see Meg absorbed in a stranger before her face; for Jo loved a few persons very dearly, and dreaded to have their affection lost or lessened in any way. ¡¡¡¡`I hope the third year from this will end better; I mean it shall, if I live to work out my plans,' said Mr. Brooke, smiling at Meg, as if everything had become possible to him now. ¡¡¡¡`Doesn't it seem very long to wait?' asked Amy, who was in a hurry for the wedding. ¡¡¡¡`I've got so much to learn before I shall be ready, it seems a short time to me,' answered Meg,
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with a sweet gravity in her face, never seen there before. ¡¡¡¡`You have only to wait; I have to do the work,' said John, beginning his labours by picking up Meg's napkin, with an expression which caused Jo to shake her head, and then say to herself, with an air of relief, as the front door banged, `Here comes Laurie. Now we shall have a little sensible conversation.' But Jo was mistaken; for Laurie came prancing in flowing with spirits, bearing a great bridal-looking bouquet for "Mrs. John Brooke", and evidently labouring under the delusion that the whole affair had been brought about by his excellent management. `I knew Brooke would have it all his own way, he always does; for when he makes up his mind to accomplish anything, it's done, though the sky falls,' said Laurie, when he had presented his offering and his congratulations.

leonardo da vinci self portrait

leonardo da vinci self portrait
Madonna Litta
madonna with the yarnwinder painting
Mother and Child
¡¡¡¡The tea-bell rang before he had finished describing the paradise which he meant to earn for Meg, and he proudly took her in to supper, both looking so happy that Jo hadn't the heart to be jealous or dismal. Amy was very much impressed by John's devotion and Meg's dignity, Beth beamed at them from a distance, while Mr. and Mrs. March surveyed the young couple with such tender satisfaction that it was perfectly evident Aunt March was right in calling them as "unworldly as a pair of babies". No one ate much, but everyone looked very happy, and the old room seemed to brighten up amazingly when the first romance of the family began there. ¡¡¡¡`You can't say nothing pleasant ever happens now,
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can you, Meg?' said Amy, trying to decide how she would group the lovers in the sketch she was planning to make. ¡¡¡¡`No, I'm sure I can't. Flow much has happened since I said that! It seems a year ago,' answered Meg, who was in a blissful dream, lifted far above such common things as bread and butter. ¡¡¡¡`The joys come close upon the sorrows this time, and I rather think the changes have begun,' said Mrs. March. `In most families there comes, now and then, a year full of events; this has been such a one, but it ends well after all.'

Hylas and the Nymphs

Hylas and the Nymphs
jesus christ on the cross
klimt painting the kiss
leonardo da vinci self portrait
upon her - for such an unexpected turning of the tables actually took her breath away. At the odd sound the lovers turned and saw her. Meg jumped up, looking both proud and shy; but "that man", as Jo called him, actually laughed, and said coolly, as he kissed the astonished newcomer, `Sister Jo, congratulate us!' That was adding insult to injury - it was altogether too much - and making some wild demonstration with her hands, Jo vanished without a word. Rushing upstairs, she startled the invalids by exclaiming tragically, as she burst into the room: ¡¡¡¡`Oh, do somebody go
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down quick; John Brooke is acting dreadfully, and Meg likes it!' ¡¡¡¡Mr. and Mrs. March left the room with speed; and, casting herself upon the bed, Jo cried and scolded tempestuously, as she told the awful news to Beth and Amy. The little girls, however, considered it a most agreeable and interesting event, and Jo got little comfort from them; so she went up to her refuge in the garret, and confided her troubles to the rats. ¡¡¡¡Nobody ever knew what went on in the parlour that afternoon, but a great deal of talking was done, and quiet Mr. Brooke astonished his friends by the eloquence and spirit with which he pleaded his suit, told his plans, and persuaded them to arrange everything just as he wanted it.

girl with a pearl earring vermeer

girl with a pearl earring vermeer
Gustav Klimt Kiss painting
Head of Christ
Hylas and the Nymphs
didn't know how much till she abused you,' began Meg. ¡¡¡¡`And I needn't go away, but may stay and be happy, may I, dear?' ¡¡¡¡Here was another fine chance to make the crushing speech and the stately exit, but Meg never thought of doing either, and disgraced herself for ever in Jo's eyes by meekly whispering, `Yes, John,' and hiding her face on Mr. Brooke's waistcoat. ¡¡¡¡Fifteen minutes after Aunt March's departure, Jo came softly downstairs, paused an instant at the parlour door, and, hearing no sound within, nodded and smiled, with a satisfied expression, saying to herself, `
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She has sent him away as we planned, and that affair is settled. I'll go and hear the fun, and have a good laugh over it.' ¡¡¡¡But poor Jo never got her laugh, for she was transfixed upon the threshold by a spectacle which held her there, staring with her mouth nearly as wide open as her eyes. Going to exult over a fallen enemy, and to praise a strong-minded sister for the banishment of an objectionable lover, it certainly was a shock to behold the aforesaid enemy serenely sitting on the sofa, with the strong-minded sister enthroned upon his knee, and wearing an expression of the most abject submission. Jo gave a sort of gasp as if a cold shower-bath had suddenly fallen

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leonardo da vinci painting
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mona lisa smile
of a sudden and took possession of her. She felt excited and strange, and, not knowing what to do, followed a capricious impulse, and, withdrawing her hands, said petulantly, `I don't choose. Please go away and let me be!' ¡¡¡¡Poor Mr. Brooke looked as if his lovely castle in the air was tumbling about his ears, for he had never seen Meg in such a mood before, and it rather bewildered him. ¡¡¡¡`Do you really mean that?' he asked anxiously, following her
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as she walked away. ¡¡¡¡`Yes, I do; I don't want to be worried about such things. Father says I needn't; it's too soon and I'd rather not.' ¡¡¡¡`Mayn't I hope you'll change your mind by-and-by? I'll wait, and say nothing till you have had more time. Don't play with me, Meg. I didn't think that of you.' ¡¡¡¡`Don't think of me at all. I'd rather you wouldn't,' said Meg, taking a naughty satisfaction in trying her lover's patience and her own power. He was grave and silent now; and looked decidedly more like the novel heroes whom she admired; but he neither slapped his forehead nor tramped about the room, as they did; he just stood looking at her so wistfully, so

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mona lisa smile
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¡¡¡¡He seemed to think it was worth the trouble, for he smiled to himself as if quite satisfied, pressed the plump hand gratefully, and said, in his most persuasive tone, `Will you try and find out? I want to know so much; for I can't go to work with any heart until I learn whether I am to have my reward in the end or not.' ¡¡¡¡`I'm too young,' faltered Meg, wondering why she was so fluttered, yet rather enjoying it. ¡¡¡¡`I'll wait; and in the meantime, you could be l
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earning to like me. Would it be a very hard lesson, dear?' ¡¡¡¡`Not if I chose to learn it, but--' ¡¡¡¡`Please choose to learn, Meg. I love to teach, and this is easier than German,' broke in John, getting possession of the other hand, so that she had no way of hiding her face, as he bent to look into it. ¡¡¡¡His tone was properly beseeching; but, stealing a shy look at him, Meg saw that his eyes were merry as well as tender, and that he wore the satisfied smile of one who had no doubt of his success. This nettled her; Annie Moffat's foolish lessons in coquetry came into her mind, and the love of power, which sleeps in the bosoms of the best of little women, woke up

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Polly marched straight after it, stooped down and peeped under the book-case, saying, in his funny way, with a cock of his eye, "Come out and take a walk, my dear." I couldn't help laughing, which made Poll swear, and Aunt woke up and scolded us both.' ¡¡¡¡`Did the spider accept the old fellow's invitation?' asked Laurie, yawning. ¡¡¡¡`Yes; out it came, and away ran Polly, frightened to death, and scrambled up on Aunt's chair, calling out, "Catch her! catch her! catch her!" as I chased the spider.' ¡¡¡¡`That's a lie! Oh, lor!' cried the parrot, pecking at Laurie's toes. ¡¡¡¡`I'd wring your neck if
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you were mine, you old torment,' cried Laurie, shaking his fist at the bird, who put his head on one side, and gravely croaked, `Allyluyer! bless your buttons, dear!' ¡¡¡¡`Now I'm ready,' said Amy, shutting the wardrobe, and taking a paper out of her pocket. `I want you to read that, please, and tell me if it is legal and right. I felt that I ought to do it, for life is uncertain and I don't want any ill-feeling over my tomb.' ¡¡¡¡Laurie bit his lips, and turning a little from the pensive speaker read the following document, with praiseworthy gravity, considering the spelling: ¡¡¡¡`My Last Will And Testament'

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mona lisa painting
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head, on which she wore a great pink turban, contrasting oddly with her blue brocade dress and yellow quilted petticoat. She was obliged to walk carefully, for she had on high-heeled shoes, and, as Laurie told Jo afterwards, it was a comical sight to see her mince along in her gay suit, with Polly sidling and bridling just behind her, imitating her as well as he could, and occasionally stopping to laugh or exclaim, `Ain't we fine? Get along, you fright! Hold your tongue! Kiss me, dear! Ha! ha!' ¡¡¡¡Having with difficulty restrained an explosion of merriment lest it should o
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ffend her majesty, Laurie tapped, and was graciously received. ¡¡¡¡ ¡¡¡¡`Sit down and rest while I put these things away; then I want to consult you about a very serious matter,' said Amy, when she had shown her splendour, and driven Polly into a corner. `That bird is the trial of my life,' she continued, removing the pink mountain from her head, while Laurie seated himself astride of a chair. `Yesterday, when Aunt was asleep, and I was trying to be as still as a mouse, Polly began to squall and flap about in his cage; so I went to let him out, and found a big spider there. I poked it out, and it ran under the book-case;

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and be satisfied with doing right, though no one saw or praised her for it. In her first effort at being very, very good, she decided to make her will, as Aunt March had done; so that if she did fall ill and die, her possessions might be justly and generously divided. It cost her a pang even to think of giving up the little treasures which in her eyes were as precious as the old lady's jewels. ¡¡¡¡During one of her play-hours she wrote out the important document as well as she could, with some help from Esther as to certain legal terms, and, when the good-natured Frenchwoman
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had signed her name, Amy felt relieved, and laid it by to show Laurie, whom she wanted as a second witness. As it was a rainy day, she went upstairs to amuse herself in one of the large chambers, and took Polly with her for company. In this room there was a wardrobe full of old-fashioned costumes, with which Esther allowed her to play, and it was her favourite amusement to array herself in the faded brocades, and parade up and down before the long mirror, making stately courtesies, and sweeping her train about, with a rustle which delighted her ears. So busy was she on this day that she did not hear Laurie's ring, nor see his face peeping in at her, as she gravely promenaded to and fro, flirting her fan and tossing

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nature abstract painting
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¡¡¡¡Never had the sun risen so beautifully, and never had the world seemed so lovely, as it did to the heavy eyes of Meg and Jo, as they looked out in the early morning, when their long, sad vigil was done. ¡¡¡¡`It looks like a fairy world,' said Meg, smiling to herself, as she stood behind the curtain, watching the dazzling sight. ¡¡¡¡`Hark!' cried Jo, starting to her feet. ¡¡¡¡Yes, there was a sound of bells at the door below, a cry from Hannah, and then Laurie's voice saying, in a joyful whisper, `Girls, she's come! she's come!' ¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡chapter 19 Amy's Will ¡¡¡¡While these things were happening
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at home, Amy was having hard times at Aunt March's. She felt her exile deeply, and, for the first time in her life, realized how much she was beloved and petted at home. Aunt March never petted anyone; she did not approve of it; but she meant to be kind, for the well-behaved little girl pleased her very much, and Aunt March had a soft place in her old heart for her nephew's children, though she didn't think proper to confess it. She really did her best to make Amy happy, but, dear me, what mistakes she made! Some old people keep young at heart in spite of wrinkles and grey hair, can sympathize with children's little cares and joys, make them feel at home, and can hide wise lessons

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Before the girls could believe the happy truth, the doctor came to confirm it. He was a homely man, but they thought his face quite heavenly when he smiled, and said, with a fatherly look at them, `Yes, my dears, I think the little girl will pull through this time. Keep the house quiet; let her sleep, and when she wakes, give her--' What they were to give, neither heard; for both crept into the dark hall, and sitting on the stairs, held each other close, rejoicing with hearts
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too full for words. When they went back to be kissed and cuddled by faithful Hannah, they found Beth lying, as she used to do, with her cheek pillowed on her hand, the dreadful pallor gone, and breathing quietly, as if just fallen asleep. ¡¡¡¡`If Mother would only come now!' said Jo, as the winter night began to wane. ¡¡¡¡`See,' said Meg, coming up with a white, half-opened rose, `I thought this would hardly be ready to lay in Beth's hand tomorrow if she - went away from us. But it has blossomed in the night, and now I mean to put it in my vase here, so that when the darling wakes, the first things she sees will be the little rose, and Mother's face.'

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was past two, when Jo, who stood at the window thinking how dreary the world looked in its winding-sheet of snow, heard a movement by the bed, and, turning quickly, saw Meg kneeling before her mother's easy-chair, with her face hidden. A dreadful fear passed coldly over Jo, as she thought, `Beth is dead, and Meg is afraid to tell me.' She was back in her post in an instant, and to her excited eyes a great change seemed to have taken place. The fever flush and the look of pain were gone, and the beloved little face looked so pale and peaceful in its utter repose, that Jo felt no
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desire to weep or to lament. Leaning low over this dearest of her sisters, she kissed the damp forehead with her heart on her lips, and softly whispered, `Good-bye, my Beth; good-bye!' ¡¡¡¡As if waked by the stir, Hannah started out of her sleep, hurried to the bed, looked at Beth, felt her hands, listened at her lips, and then, throwing her apron over her head, sat down to rock to and fro, exclaiming, under her breath, `The fever's turned; she's sleeping nat'ral; her skin's damp, and she breathes easy. Praise be given! Oh, my goodness me!'

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famous van gogh painting ¡¡¡¡`If God spares Beth I never will complain again,' whispered Meg, earnestly. ¡¡¡¡`If God spares Beth I'll try to love and serve him all my life,' answered Jo, with equal fervour. ¡¡¡¡`I wish I had no heart, it aches so,' sighed Meg, after a pause. ¡¡¡¡`If life is often as hard as this, I don't see how we ever shall get through it,' added her sister,
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despondently. ¡¡¡¡Here the clock struck twelve, and both forgot themselves in watching Beth, for they fancied a change passed over her wan face. The house was still as death, and nothing but the wailing of the wind broke the deep hush. Weary Hannah slept on, and no one but the sisters saw the pale shadow which seemed to fall upon the little bed. An hour went by, and nothing happened except Laurie's quiet departure for the station. Another hour - still no one came; and anxious fears of delay in the storm or accidents by the way, or, worst of all, a great grief at Washington, haunted the poor girls.

Jack Vettriano Painting

Jack Vettriano Painting
The Singing Butler
Rembrandt Painting
down a pine close beside him, saw him suddenly and skipped back, scolding so shrilly that Beth looked up, espied the wistful face behind the birches, and beckoned with a reassuring smile. ¡¡¡¡`May I come in, please? or shall I be a bother?' he asked, advancing slowly. ¡¡¡¡Meg lifted her eyebrows, but Jo scowled at her defiantly, and said at once, `Of course you may. We should have asked you before, only we thought you wouldn't care for such a girl's
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game as this.' ¡¡¡¡`I always liked your games; but if Meg doesn't want me, I'll go away.' ¡¡¡¡`I've no objection, if you do something; it's against the rules to be idle here,' replied Meg, gravely but graciously. ¡¡¡¡`Much obliged; I'll do anything if you'll let me stop a bit, for it's as dull as the Desert of Sahara down there. Shall I sew, read, cone, draw, or do all at once? Bring on your bears; I'm ready,' and Laurie sat down, with a submissive expression delightful to behold. ¡¡¡¡`Finish this story while I set my heel,' said Jo, handing him the book.

Van Gogh Painting

Van Gogh Painting
Van Gogh Sunflower
Edward Hopper Painting
observation. A group of pines covered one part of it, and from the heart of this green spot came a clearer sound than the soft sigh of the pines or the drowsy chirp of the crickets. ¡¡¡¡`Here's a landscape!' thought Laurie, peeping through the bushes, and looking wide awake and good-natured already. ¡¡¡¡It was rather a pretty little picture; for the sisters sat together in the shady nook, with sun and shadow flickering over them, the aromatic wind lifting their hair and cooling their hot cheeks, and all the little wood-people going on with their affairs, as if these were no strangers, but
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old friends. Meg sat upon her cushion, sewing daintily with her white hands, and looking as fresh and as sweet as a rose, in her pink dress among the green. Beth was sorting the cones that lay thick under the hemlock near by, for she made pretty things of them. Amy was sketching a group of ferns, and Jo was knitting as she read aloud. A shadow passed over the boy's face as he watched them, feeling that he ought to go away, because uninvited; yet lingering, because home seemed very lonely, and this quiet party in the woods most attractive to his restless spirit. He stood so still that a squirrel, busy with its harvesting, ran

Gustav Klimt The Kiss

Gustav Klimt The Kiss
Gustav Klimt Painting
William Bouguereau
The Birth of Venus
¡¡¡¡`What in the world are those girls about now?' thought Laurie, opening his sleepy eyes to take a good look, for there was something rather peculiar in the appearance of his neighbours. Each wore a large, flapping hat, a brown linen pouch slung over one shoulder, and carried a long staff. Meg had a cushion, Jo a book, Beth a basket, and Amy a portfolio. All walked quietly through the garden, out at the little back gate, and began to climb the hill that lay
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between the house and the river. ¡¡¡¡`Well, that's cool!' said Laurie to himself, `to have a picnic and never ask me. They can't be going in the boat, for they haven't got the key. Perhaps they forgot it; I'll take it to them, and see what's going on.' ¡¡¡¡Though possessed of half a dozen hats, it took him some time to find one; then there was a hunt for the key, which was at last discovered in his pocket; so that the girls were quite out of sight when he leaped the fence and ran after them. Taking the shortest way to the boathouse, he waited for them to appear: but no one came, and he went up the hill to take an

Monday, January 21, 2008

leonardo da vinci last supper painting

leonardo da vinci last supper painting
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leonardo da vinci painting
leonardo da vinci the last supper
three shrill cheers for the new member. No one ever regretted the admittance of Sam Weller, for a more devoted, well-behaved, and jovial member no club could have. He certainly did add `spirit' to the meeting and `a tone' to the paper; for his orations convulsed his hearers, and his contributions were excellent, being patriotic, classical, comical, or dramatic, but never sentimental. Jo regarded them as worthy of Bacon, Milton, or Shakespeare; and remodelled her own works with good effect, she thought. The P.O. was a capital little institution, and flourished wonderfully, for nearly as
oil painting
many queer things passed through it as through the real office. Tragedies and cravats, poetry and pickles, garden-seeds and long letters, music and gingerbread, rubbers, invitations, scoldings and puppies. The old gentleman liked the fun, and amused himself by sending odd bundles, mysterious messages, and funny telegrams; and his gardener, who was smitten with Hannah's charms, actually sent a love-letter to Jo's care. How they laughed when the secret came out, never dreaming how many love-letters that little post-office would hold in the years to come!

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leonardo da vinci painting
leonardo da vinci the last supper
mona lisa painting
mona lisa smile
¡¡¡¡`Never you mind what she says. I'm the wretch that did it, sir,' said the new member, with a Welleresque nod to Mr. Pickwick. `But on my honour I never will do so again, and henceforth devote myself to the interest of this immortal club.' ¡¡¡¡`Hear! hear!' cried Jo, clashing the lid of the warming-pan like a cymbal. ¡¡¡¡`Go on, go on!' added Winkle and Tupman, while the President bowed benignly. ¡¡¡¡`I merely wish to say, that as a slight token of my gratitude for the honour done me, and as a means of promoting friendly relations between adjoining nations, I have set up a post-office in the hedge in the lower corner of the garden; a fine, spacious building, with padlocks on the doors, and every convenienc
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e for the mails - also the females, if I may be allowed the expression. It's the old martin-house; but I've stopped up the door, and made the roof open, so it will hold all sorts of things, and save our valuable tim. le. Letters, manuscripts, books, and bundles can be passed in there; and, as each nation has a key, it will be uncommonly nice, I fancy. Allow me to present the club key; and, with many thanks for your favour, take my seat.' Great applause as Mr. Weller deposited a little key on the table, and subsided; the warming-pan clashed and waved wildly, and it was some time before order could be restored. A long discussion followed, and everyone came out surprisingly for everyone did her best; so it was an unusually lively meeting, and did not adjourn till a late hour, when it broke up with

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It does seem pleasant to be quiet, and not have company manners on all the time. Home is a nice place, though it isn't splendid,' said Meg, looking about her with a restful expression as she sat with her mother and Jo on the Sunday evening. ¡¡¡¡`I'm glad to hear you say so, dear, for I was afraid home would seem dull and poor to you after your fine quarters,' replied her mother, who had given her many anxious looks that day; for motherly eyes are quick to see any change in children's faces. Meg had told her adventures gaily, and said over and over what a charming time she had had; but something
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still seemed to weigh upon her spirits, and, when the younger girls were gone to bed, she sat thoughtfully staring at the fire, saying little, and looking worried. ¡¡¡¡As the clock struck nine, and Jo proposed bed, Meg suddenly left her chair, and taking Beth's stool, leaned her elbows on her mother's knee, saying bravely: ¡¡¡¡`Marmee, I want to "'fess".' ¡¡¡¡`I thought so; what is it, dear?' ¡¡¡¡`Shall I go away?' asked Jo, discreetly. ¡¡¡¡`Of course not; don't I always tell you everything? I was ashamed to speak of it before the children, but I want you to know all the dreadful things I did at the Moffats'.' ¡¡¡¡`We are prepared,' said Mrs. March, smiling, but looking a little anxious.

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¡¡¡¡`Wish tomorrow was here, then,' muttered Laurie, walking off, ill-pleased at the change he saw in her. ¡¡¡¡Meg danced and flirted, chattered and giggled, as the other girls did; after supper she undertook the German polka, and blundered through it, nearly upsetting her partner with her long skirt, and romping in a way that scandalized Laurie, who looked on, and meditated a lecture. But he got no chance to deliver it, for Meg kept away from him till he came to
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say good night. ¡¡¡¡`Remember!' she said, trying to smile, for the splitting headache had already begun. ¡¡¡¡`Silence * la mort,' relied Laurie, with a melodramatic flourish, as he went away. ¡¡¡¡This little bit of byplay excited Annie's curiosity; but Meg was too tired for gossip, and went to bed feeling as if she had been to a masquerade, and hadn't enjoyed herself as much as she expected. She was sick all the next day, and on Saturday went home, quite used up with her fortnight's fun, and feeling that she had `sat in the lap of luxury' long enough.

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¡¡¡¡`Here comes Ned Moffat; what does he want?' said Laurie, knitting his black brows as if he did not regard his young host in the light of a pleasant addition to the party. ¡¡¡¡`What a bore!' said Meg, assuming a languid air, which amused Laurie immensely. ¡¡¡¡He did not speak to her again till supper-time, when he saw her drinking champagne with Ned and his friend Fisher, who were behaving `like a pair of fools', as Laurie said to himself, for he felt
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a brotherly sort of right to watch over the Marches, and fight their battles whenever a defender was needed. ¡¡¡¡`You'll have a splitting headache tomorrow, if you drink that stuff. I wouldn't, Meg; your mother doesn't like it, you know,' he whispered, leaning over her chair, as Ned turned to refill her glass, and Fisher stooped to pick up her fan. ¡¡¡¡`I'm not Meg tonight; I'm a "doll", who does all sorts of crazy things. Tomorrow I shall put away my "fuss and feathers", and be desperately good again,' she answered, with an affected little laugh.

William Bouguereau paintings

William Bouguereau paintings
William Bouguereau
The Birth of Venus
Marc Chagall Painting
Henri Matisse Painting
It isn't. I haven't got it, don't know where it is now, and don't care.' ¡¡¡¡`You know something about it, and you'd better tell at once, or I'll make you,' and Jo gave her a slight shake. ¡¡¡¡`Scold as much as you like, you'll never see your silly old book again,' cried Amy, getting excited in her turn. ¡¡¡¡`Why not?' ¡¡¡¡`I burnt it up.' ¡¡¡¡`What! my little book I was so fond of, and worked over, and meant to finish before Father got home! Have you really burnt it?' said Jo,
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turning very pale, while her eyes kindled and her hands clutched Amy nervously. ¡¡¡¡`Yes, I did! I told you I'd make you pay for being so cross yesterday, and I have, so--' ¡¡¡¡Amy got no further, for Jo's hot temper mastered her, and she shook Amy till her teeth chattered in her head; crying in a passion of grief and anger: ¡¡¡¡`You wicked, wicked girl! I never can write it again and I'll never forgive you as long as I live.' ¡¡¡¡Meg flew to rescue Amy, and Beth to pacify Jo, but Jo was quite beside herself; and with a parting box on her sister's ear, she rushed out of the room up to the old sofa in the garret, and finished her fight alone.

Marc Chagall Painting

Marc Chagall Painting
Henri Matisse Painting
Van Gogh Painting
Van Gogh Sunflower
When they got home they found Amy reading in the parlour. She assumed an injured air as they came in; never lifted her eyes from her book, or asked a single question. Perhaps curiosity might have conquered resentment, if Beth had not been there to inquire, and receive a glowing description of the play. On going up to put away her best hat, Jo's first look was towards the bureau; for, in their last quarrel, Amy had soothed her feelings by turning Jo's top drawer upside down on the floor. Everything was in its place, however, and after a hasty glance into her various closets, bags,
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and boxes, Jo decided that Amy had forgiven and forgotten her wrongs. ¡¡¡¡There Jo was mistaken; for next day she made a discovery which produced a tempest. Meg, Beth, and Amy were sitting together, late in the afternoon, when Jo burst into the room, looking excited, and demanding breathlessly, `Has anyone taken my book?' ¡¡¡¡Meg and Beth said `No,' at once, and looked surprised; Amy poked the fire, and said nothing. Jo saw her colour rise, and was down upon her in a minute. ¡¡¡¡`Amy, you've got it.' ¡¡¡¡`No, I haven't.' ¡¡¡¡`You know where it is, then!' ¡¡¡¡`No, I don't.' ¡¡¡¡`That's a fib!' cried Jo, taking her by the shoulders and looking fierce enough to frighten a much braver child than Amy.

Van Gogh Sunflower

Van Gogh Sunflower
Edward Hopper Painting
Mary Cassatt painting
They had a charming time, for "The Seven Castles of the Diamond Lake" was as brilliant and wonderful as heart could wish. But, in spite of the comical red imps, sparkling elves, and gorgeous princes and princesses, Jo's pleasure had a drop of bitterness in it; the fairy queen's yellow curls reminded her of Amy; and between the acts she amused herself with wondering what her sister would do to make her "sorry for it". She and Amy had had many lively skirmishes in the course of their lives, for both had quick tempers, and were apt to be violent when fairly roused. Amy teased Jo,
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Jo irritated Amy, and semi-occasional explosions occurred, of which both were much ashamed afterwards. Although the oldest, Jo had the least self-control, and had hard times trying to curb the fiery spirit which was continually getting her into trouble; her anger never lasted long, and having humbly confessed her fault she sincerely repented and tried to do better. Her sisters used to say that they rather liked to get Jo into a fury because she was such an angel afterwards. Poor Jo tried desperately to be good, but her bosom enemy was always ready to flame up and defeat her; and it took years of patient effort to subdue it.

The Lady of Shalott

The Lady of Shalott
the night watch by rembrandt
the Night Watch
The Nut Gatherers
¡¡¡¡One forlorn fragment of dollanity had belonged to Jo; and, having led a tempestuous life, was left a wreck in the ragbag, from which dreary poor-house it was rescued by Beth, and taken to her refuge. Having no top to its head, she tied on a neat little cap, and, as both arms and legs were gone, she hid those deficiencies by folding it in a blanket, and devoting her best bed to this chronic invalid. If anyone had known the care lavished on that dolly, I think it would have touched their hearts, even while they laughed. She brought it bits of bouquets; she read to it, took it out to breathe the
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air, hidden under her coat; she sang it lullabies, and never went to bed without kissing its dirty face, and whispering tenderly, `I hope you'll have a good night, my poor dear.' ¡¡¡¡Beth had her troubles as well as the others; and not being an angel, but a very human little girl, she often `wept a little weep', as Jo said, because lessons and have a fine piano. She loved music so dearly, tried so hard to learn, and practised away so patiently at the jingling old instrument, that it did seem as if someone (not to hint Aunt March) ought to help her.

The Nut Gatherers

The Nut Gatherers
The Painter's Honeymoon
the polish rider
The Sacrifice of Abraham painting
Beth was too bashful to go to school; it had been tried., but she suffered so much that it was given up, and she did her lessons at home with her father. Even when he went away, and her mother was called to devote her skill and energy to Soldiers' Aid Societies, Beth went faithfully on by herself, and did the best she could. She was a housewifely little creature, and helped Hannah keep home neat and comfortable for the workers, never thinking of any reward but to be loved. Long, quiet days she spent, not lonely nor idle, for her little world was peopled with imaginary friends,
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and she was by nature a busy bee. There were six dolls to be taken up and dressed every morning, for Beth was a child still, and loved her pets as well as ever. Not one whole or handsome one among them all were outcasts till Beth took them in; for, when her sisters outgrew these idols, they passed to her, because Amy would have nothing old or ugly. Beth cherished them all the more tenderly for that very reason, and set up a hospital for infirm dolls. No pins were ever stuck into their cotton vitals; no harsh words or blows were ever given them; no neglect ever saddened the heart of the most repulsive: but all were fed and clothed, nursed and caressed, with an affection which never failed.

The Nut Gatherers

The Nut Gatherers
The Painter's Honeymoon
the polish rider
The Sacrifice of Abraham painting devoured poetry, romance, history, travels, and pictures, like a regular book-worm. But, like all happiness, it did not last long; for as sure as she had just reached the heart of the story, the sweetest verse of the song, or the most perilous adventure of her traveller, a shrill voice called, `Josy-phine! Josy-phine!' and she had to leave her paradise to wind yarn, wash the poodle, or read Belsham's Essays by the hour together. ¡¡¡¡Jo's ambition was to do something v
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ery splendid; what it was she had no idea, as yet, but left it for time to tell her; and, meanwhile, found her greatest affliction in the fact that she couldn't read, run, and ride as much as she liked. A quick temper, sharp tongue, and restless spirit were always getting her into scrapes, and her life was a series of ups and downs, which were both comic and pathetic. But the training she received at Aunt March's was just what she needed; and the thought that she was doing something to support herself made her happy, in spite of the perpetual `Josy-phine!'

The Sacrifice of Abraham painting

The Sacrifice of Abraham painting
The Three Ages of Woman
The Virgin and Child with St Anne
The Water lily Pond
The old lady wouldn't speak to them for a time, but, happening to meet Jo at a friend's, something in her comical face and blunt manners struck the old lady's fancy, and she proposed to take her for a companion. This did not suit Jo at all; but she accepted the place since nothing better appeared, and, to everyone's surprise, got on remarkably well with her irascible relative. There was an occasional tempest, and once Jo had marched home, declaring she couldn't bear it any longer; but Aunt March always cleared up quickly, and sent for her back again with such urgency that she could not refuse, for in her heart she rather liked the peppery old lady. ¡¡¡¡I suspect that the real attraction was a large library of fine books,
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which was left to dust and spiders since Uncle March died. Jo remembered the kind old gentleman, who used to let her build railroads and bridges with his big dictionaries, tell her stories about the queer pictures in his Latin books, and buy her cards of gingerbread whenever he met her in the street. The dim, dusty room, with the busts staring down from the tall bookcases, the cosy chairs, the globes, and, best of all, the wilderness of books, in which she could wander where she liked,, made the library a region of bliss to her. The moment Aunt March took her nar was busy with company Jo hurried to this quiet place, and curling herself up in the easy-chair

acrylic flower painting

acrylic flower painting
flower impact painting
art flower painting
chinese flower painting
¡¡¡¡On Christmas night, a dozen girls piled on to the bed which was the dress-circle, and sat before the blue and yellow chintz curtains in a most flattering state of expectancy. There was a good deal of rustling and whispering behind the curtain, a trifle of lamp-smoke, and an occasional giggles from Amy, who was apt to get hysterical in the excitement of the moment. Presently a bell sounded, the curtains flew apart, and the Operatic Tragedy began. ¡¡¡¡`A gloomy wood', according to the one play-bill, we represented by a few shrubs in pots, green baize on the floor and a cave in the distance.
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This cave was made with clothes-horse for a roof, bureaus for walls; and in it was small furnace in full blast, with a black spot on it, and a old witch bending over it. The stage was dark, and the glow of the furnace had a fine effect, especially as real steam issued from the kettle when the witch took off the cover. A moment was allowed for the first thrill to subside; the: Hugo, the villain, stalked in with a clanking sword at hi side, a slouched hat, black beard, mysterious cloak, and the boots. After pacing to and fro in much agitation, he struck his forehead, and burst out in a wild strain

famous monet painting

famous monet painting
famous nude painting
famous painting portrait
famous jesus painting
¡¡¡¡A good deal of hammering went on before the curtain rose again; but when it bme evident what a masterpiece of stage-carpentering had been got ups no one murmured at the delay. It was truly superb! A tower rose to the ceiling half-way up appeared a window, with a lamp burning at it and behind the white curtain appeared Zara in a lovely blue and silver dress, waiting for Roderigo. He came in gorgeous array, with plumed cap, red cloak, chestnut
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love-locks, guitar, and the boots, of course. Kneeling at the foot of the tower, he sang a serenade in melting tones. Zara replied, and, after a musical dialogue, consented to fly. Then came the grand effect of the play. Roderigo produced a rope ladder, with five steps to it, threw up one end, and invited Zara to descend. Timidly she crept from her lattice, put her hand on Roderigo's shoulder, and was about to leap gracefully down, when, in Alas! alas for Zara!' she forgot her train - it caught in the window, the tower tottered, leant forward, fell with a crash, and buried the unhappy lovers in the ruins!