Monday, December 29, 2008

Jack Vettriano The Twilight Zone

Jack Vettriano The Twilight ZoneJack Vettriano The TrapJack Vettriano The Tourist Trap
looked dead and cold as a crypt. From time to time promising features would appear on the distant horizon - ravines, maybe mountains, maybe even cities - but as they approached the lines would soften and blur into anonymity and nothingafter?" One of Zaphod's heads looked away. The other one looked round to see what the first was looking at, but it wasn't looking at anything very much. "Well," said Zaphod airily, "it's partly the curiosity, partly a sense of adventure, but mostly I think it's the fame and the money ..." Ford glanced at him sharply. He got a very strong impression that Zaphod hadn't the faintest idea why he was there at all. would transpire. The planet's surface was blurred by time, by the slow movement of the thin stagnant air that had crept across it for century upon century. Clearly, it was very very old. A moment of doubt came to Ford as he watched the grey landscape move beneath them. The immensity of time worried him, he could feel it as a presence. He cleared his throat. "Well, even supposing it is ..." "It is," said Zaphod. "Which it isn't," continued Ford. "What do you want with it anyway? There's nothing there." "Not on the surface," said Zaphod. "Alright, just supposing there's something. I take it you're not here for the sheer industrial archaeology of it all. What are you

Sunday, December 28, 2008

Perrault An Interesting Story

Perrault An Interesting StoryPerrault Le Miroir De La NatureCarpaccio Madonna and Blessing ChildCaravaggio Rest on Flight to Egypt
money — the visual system represented it more strongly," said lead researcher John Serences, assistant professor of psychology at the University of California, San Diego. Rewards affected information processing in this initial sense and also in parts of the brain where higher cognitive thinking takes place.
"Though it is too early to say how the journal Neuron. Further study could help researchers better understand how addictions influence information processing, Serences said. Just seeing food or drugs, for example, might have a larger impact on the psyches of some people than others. this relates to perception," Serences said, "it raises the intriguing possibility that we see things we value more clearly — much like the way the brain responds to a bright object versus a dimly lit one."In fact, the brain seemed to know more than a participant was able to call to mind: The changes in neural activity were a better sign of an object's past value than what subjects recalled when asked about those objects."It's as if the visual system is telling you how valuable something has been to you in the past," Serences said, "and telling it to you like it is, even though you can't consciously identify it."The findings are reported in the Dec. 26 issue of

Friday, December 26, 2008

Machado Picnic On The Sea

Machado Picnic On The SeaMachado Picnic in the Forest of Gustave KlimtMachado Picnic At Ipanema
non-existence of God. "The argument goes something like this: `I refuse to prove that I exist,' says God, `for proof denies faith, and without faith I am nothing.' "`But,' says Man, `The Babel fish is a dead giveaway, isn't it? It could not have evolved by from the place that the Earth would have been if it still existed. The Earth. Visions of it swam sickeningly through his nauseated mind. There was no way his imagination could feel the impact of the whole Earth having gone, it was too big. He prodded his feelings by thinking that his parents and his sister had gone. No reaction. He thought of all the people he had chance. It proves you exist, and so therefore, by your own arguments, you don't. QED.' "`Oh dear,' says God, `I hadn't thought of that,' and promptly vanished in a puff of logic. "`Oh, that was easy,' says Man, and for an encore goes on to prove that black is white and gets himself killed on the next zebra crossing. "Most leading theologians claim that this argument is a load of dingo's kidneys, but that didn't stop Oolon Colluphid making a small fortune when he used it as the central theme of his best- selling book Well That About Wraps It Up For God. "Meanwhile, the poor Babel fish, by effectively removing all barriers to communication between different races and cultures, has caused more and bloddier wars than anything else in the history of creation." Arthur let out a low groan. He was horrified to discover that the kick through hyperspace hadn't killed him. He was now six light years

Tuesday, December 23, 2008

Van Gogh The Langlois Bridge at Arles with Women Washing

Van Gogh The Langlois Bridge at Arles with Women WashingFragonard Music LessonFragonard The SwingFragonard Coresus Sacrificing himselt to Save Callirhoe
fans, Fric shopped the library shelves for a book, mindful that Mr. Truman had said not to dawdle.In case they didn’t make s’mores and sit on the floor telling scary stories, he took the trouble of finding a book that he might actually enjoy reading. He soft ringing of a hundred tiny wind chimes all agitated at once.When he looked up at the stained-glass dome, he saw hundreds of pieces of glass break out of the leading and fall toward him.No. Not glass. The stained-glass mosaic remained in place across the entire arc of the thirty-foot dome. Shards of color and shadow fell out of the glass without breaking it, fell through it from the night above or maybe from somewhere immeasurably stranger than the night.[556] The shards fell slowly, not to the demand of gravity,figured that he would be awake most of this long night, and not because he was excited about Christmas Eve coming in just two days. If he didn’t have a book to pass the time, he would go as crazy as Barbra Streisand’s two-headed cat.He had just found a novel that looked good when he heard noise overhead: a shimmering, like the

Sunday, December 21, 2008

Kimble White Bellied Chicken

Kimble White Bellied ChickenKimble The Front PorchKimble The American FarmKimble Spotted Chicken
463] As he let the number ring, Hazard noticed a pedestrian turn the corner at the end of the block, on thé far side of the street, coming in the direction of the Laputa residence.Something was wrong about the guy. He had neither an umbrella nor a the rain.Theatrical. In this weather no other pedestrians were in sight, and at the moment no traffic moved on this quiet residential street, yet the guy appeared to be performing without an audience, for his own amusement.Tired of listening to Laputa’s phone ring, Hazard pressed END on his cell keypad.The pedestrian appeared to be talking to himself, although from across the street Hazard could not be certain of this.raincoat. The downpour had diminished to a , but it was not weather in which anyone went for a stroll. And that was another thing: The guy didn’t hurry.Attitude, however, was what really cranked up the Hazard Yancy suspicion machine. If the guy had been a sponge, he’d have been so saturated with attitude that he couldn’t have made room for one drop of rain.He swaggered under the streetlamps, not like genuine tough guys sometimes swaggered, but as movie stars swaggered when they thought they were getting the tough-guy thing just right. His gray pants, black turtleneck, and black leather coat were soaked, but he seemed to defy

Thursday, December 18, 2008

Pablo Picasso Le Moulin de la Galette painting

Pablo Picasso Le Moulin de la Galette paintingPablo Picasso Gertrude Stein paintingTamara de Lempicka Portrait of Madame painting
The elevator moved again. In but a moment it stopped at the upper level of the parking garage.Perhaps he would step out and find himself on a rainy street, in the path of an out-of-control PT Cruiser.The door slid aside, revealing nothing , tangled bodies of the cruelly murdered. He might have [375] been sitting before a ghastly mural of the many victims in the names of whom he, as a homicide detective, had sought justice.He tipped his head back, closed his eyes, and let the tension shiver out of him.After a while, he considered turning on the radio to pass the time until Hazard arrived. Sheryl Crow, Barenaked Ladies, Chris Isaak, without orchestral strings and timpanis and French horns, might mellow his mood.He was reluctant to click the switch. He suspected that instead of the more impossible than the concrete walls of an underground garage and ranks of vehicles huddled under fluorescent lights.As he walked to the Expedition, his ragged breathing quickly grew normal. His racing heart not only slowed but also settled out of his throat, into his chest where it belonged.Behind the wheel of the SUV, he pushed the master switch to engage the power locks on all the doors.Through the windshield he could see nothing but a concrete wall mottled by water stains and car-exhaust deposits. Here and there, over time, florescences of lime had risen to the surface.His imagination wanted to search for collected menageries among the shifting shapes of clouds. Here, he saw only decomposing faces and the tumbled

Tuesday, December 16, 2008

Henri Rousseau The Sleeping Gypsy painting

Henri Rousseau The Sleeping Gypsy paintingHenri Rousseau The Dream paintingLaurie Maitland Symphony in Red and Khaki I painting
chats, like two school chums, sharing dreams and more secrets than two spies aligned against the world.”In fact, their entire so secret that even Fric didn’t know about it.Freddie described Fric as “an exuberant, self-assured boy, very athletic like his father, wonderful with horses, a superb rider.”Horses?Ethan would have later.Freddie would probably argue that in an interview with Vanity Fair, she needed to calculate each statement to enhance her image. How super could a supermodel be, if from her loins had sprung any but a supernaturally super son?Burning those pages of the magazine that featured photographs of Freddie would bet a year’s pay that if Fric ever had dealings with horses, they had been the kind that never left droppings and ran manufacturing this false Fric, Freddie seemed to suggest that the real qualities of her son either did not impress her or possibly even embarrassed her.Fric was smart enough and sensitive enough to draw that very conclusion.The thought of the boy reading this hurtful drivel moved Ethan not to toss the magazine in the trash basket beside his desk, but to throw it angrily toward the fireplace, with the intention of burning it be

Friday, December 12, 2008

Francisco de Goya Blind Man's Buff painting

Francisco de Goya Blind Man's Buff paintingEdgar Degas The Rehearsal paintingEdgar Degas The Bellelli Family painting
statement would thereafter be taken with enough salt to crust the rims of a million margarita glasses.“The shooter who killed Reynerd,” Hazard said, “was a gangbanger called himself Hector X. Real name was Calvin Roosevelt. He’s a high cuzz in the Crips, so you figure his accomplice must’ve been driving a set of wheels they boosted right before the hitafter that, his lawyer contacted me, told me Dunny’s will named me executor, and his living will gives me the right to make medical decisions for him.”“You never mentioned this.”“Didn’t see any reason. You know what he was. You understand why I didn’t want him in myBut I accepted the situation out of ... I don’t know ... because of what he meant to me when we were kids.”Hazard nodded. He withdrew a roll of hard caramels from a coat pocket, peeled back the wrapping, and offered to share..”“Standard,” Ethan agreed.“But there’s no stolen-car report on the Benz they used. I got the number on the tags, and you won’t believe who it belongs to.”Hazard looked up from his folded hands. He met Ethan’s eyes.Although Ethan didn’t know what was coming, he knew it couldn’t be good. “Who?”“Your boyhood pal. The notorious Dunny Whistler.”[239] Ethan didn’t look away. He didn’t dare. “You know what happened to him a few months ago.”“Some guys drowned him in a toilet, but he didn’t quite die.”“Few days

Wednesday, December 10, 2008

Albert Bierstadt California Coast painting

Albert Bierstadt California Coast paintingAlbert Bierstadt Buffalo Country paintingAlbert Bierstadt Bavarian Landscape paintingAlbert Bierstadt The Emerald Pool painting
ago, after he had learned that he held authority over Dunny’s affairs.Surprise had been matched by dismay. Although Hannah had been gone for five years, the presence of the picture seemed to be an act of emotional aggression, and somehow an insult to her memory that [92] she should be an object of affection—and once anDunny had phoned to say that over those thirty-six months, he had brooded long and hard on her untimely death at thirty-two. Gradually but profoundly, the loss of her—just knowing that she was no longer out there somewhere in the world—had affected him, had changed him forever.Dunny claimed that he was going to go straight, extract himself from all his criminal enterprises. Ethan had not believed him, but had wished him luck. They had never spoken again.Later, he heard through third parties that Dunny had that old object of crime and violence.Ethan had left the photograph untouched, for even with a power of attorney covering all of Dunny’s affairs, he had felt that the picture in the handsome silver frame hadn’t been his property either to dispose of or to claim.At the hospital on the night of Hannah’s death, again at the funeral, following twelve years of estrangement, Ethan and Dunny had spoken. not, however, brought them together otherwise. They had not exchanged a word for three years.On the third anniversary of Hannah’s passing,

Sunday, December 7, 2008

Vincent van Gogh lying cow painting

Vincent van Gogh lying cow paintingVincent van Gogh The shepherdess paintingVincent van Gogh The Red Vineyard paintingVincent van Gogh The potato eaters painting
them. For so it seemed to them: Lórien was slipping backward, like a bright ship masted with enchanted trees, sailing on to forgotten shores, while they sat helpless upon the margin of the grey and leafless world.Even as they gazed, the Silverlode passed out into the currents of the Great River, and their boats turned and began to speed southwards. Soon the white form of the Lady was small and distant. She shone like a window of glass upon a far hill in the westering sun, or as a remote lake seen from a mountain: a crystal fallen in the lap of the land. Then it seemed to Frodo that she lifted her arms in a final farewell, and far but piercing-clear on the and spoke of things little known on Middle-earth.Ai! laurië lantar lassi súrinen,Yéni únótimë ve rámar aldaron!Yéni ve lintë yuldar avániermi oromardi lisse-miruvórevaAndúnë pella, Vardo tellumarnu luini yassen tintilar i eleniómaryo airetári-lírinen. Sí man i yulma nin enquantuva?following wind came the sound of her voice singing. But now she sang in the ancient tongue of the Elves beyond the Sea, but it did not comfort him.Yet as is the way of Elvish words, they remained graven in his memory, and long afterwards he interpreted them, as well as he could: the language was that of Elven-song

Thursday, December 4, 2008

Joseph Mallord William Turner Fishermen at Sea painting

Joseph Mallord William Turner Fishermen at Sea paintingJohn Singer Sargent El Jaleo painting
open. Beyond it was a large square chamber. It was dimly lit, but to their eyes, after so long a time in the dark, it seemed dazzlingly bright, and they blinked as they entered.Their feet disturbed a deep dust upon the floor, and stumbled among things lying in the a great slab of white stone.`It looks like a tomb,' muttered Frodo, and bent forwards with a curious sense of foreboding, to look more closely at it. Gandalf came quickly to his side. On the slab runes were deeply graven: 'These are Daeron's Runes, such as were used of old in Moria,' said Gandalf. 'Here is written in the tongues of Men and Dwarves:BALIN SON OF FUNDINLORD OF MORIA.''He is dead then,' said Frodo. `I feared it was so.' Gimli cast his hood over his face
Francois Boucher Leda and the Swan paintingJohannes Vermeer the Milkmaid painting
doorway whose shapes they could not at first make out. The chamber was lit by a wide shaft high in the further eastern wall; it slanted upwards and, far above, a small square patch of blue sky could be seen. The light of the shaft fell directly on a table in the middle of the room: a single oblong block, about two feet high, upon which was laid The Bridge of Khazad-dûmThe Company of the Ring stood silent beside the tomb of Balin. Frodo thought of Bilbo and his long friendship with the dwarf, and of Balin's visit to the Shire long ago. In that dusty chamber in the mountains it seemed a thousand years ago and on the other side of the world.

Wednesday, December 3, 2008

Peder Severin Kroyer paintings

Peder Severin Kroyer paintingsPeter Paul Rubens paintings
few knew where it lay.''And here in the house of Elrond more shall be made clear to you' said Aragorn, standing up. He cast his sword upon the table that stood before Elrond, and the blade was in two pieces. `Here is the Sword that was Broken!' he said.`And who are you, and what have you to do with Minas Tirith?' asked Boromir, looking in wonder at the lean face of the Ranger and his weather-stained cloak.`He is Aragorn son of Arathorn,' said Elrond; `and he is descended through many that you should hold it for a while.''Bring out the Ring, Frodo!' said Gandalf solemnly. `The time has come. Hold it up, and then Boromir will understand the remainder of his riddle.'There was a hush, and all turned their eyes on Frodo. He was shaken by a sudden
Robert Williams paintingsRobert Duval paintings
fathers from Isildur Elendil's son of Minas Ithil. He is the Chief of the Dúnedain in the North, and few are now left of that folk.'`Then it belongs to you, and not to me at all!' cried Frodo in amazement, springing to his feet, as if he expected the Ring to be demanded at once.'It does not belong to either of us,' said Aragorn; `but it has been ordained he felt a great reluctance to reveal the Ring, and a loathing of its touch. He wished he was far away. The Ring gleamed and flickered as he held it up before them in his trembling hand.'Behold Isildur's Bane!' said Elrond.Boromir's eyes glinted as he gazed at the golden thing. `The Halfling!' he muttered. `Is then the doom of Minas Tirith come at last? But why then should we seek a broken sword?'

Bastida Palm Grove

Bastida Palm GroveBastida Valencian FishermanBastida Valencian FishergirlBastida Three Sails
great hearth between the carven pillars upon either side.Frodo found himself walking with Gandalf. `This is the Hall of Fire' said the wizard. `Here you will hear many songs and tales-if you can keep awake. But except on high days it usually stands empty and quiet, and people come here who wish for peace, and thought. There is of his dark cloak was drawn over his face.Elrond went forward and stood beside the silent figure. 'Awake little master. he said, with a smile. Then, turning to Frodo, he beckoned to him. 'Now at last the hour has come that you have wished for, Frodo,' he said. `Here is a friend that you have long missed.'The dark figure raised its head and uncovered its face.`Bilbo!' cried Frodo with sudden recognition, and he sprang forward.always a fire here, all the year round, but there is little other light.'As Elrond entered and went towards the seat prepared for filled, and Frodo looked with delight upon the many fair faces that were gathered together; the golden firelight played upon them and shimmered in their hair. Suddenly he noticed, not far from the further end of the fire, a small dark figure seated on a stool with his back propped against a pillar. Beside him on the ground was a drinking-cup and some bread. Frodo wondered whether he was ill (if people were ever ill in Rivendell), and had been unable to come to the feast. His head seemed sunk in sleep on his breast, and a fold

Monday, December 1, 2008

Ford Smith Depth of Meaning 2

Ford Smith Depth of Meaning 2Ranson Apple Tree with Red Fruitpaul ranson Edge of the Forestpaul ranson Apple Tree with Red Fruit
All the same the hobbits wished he was coming with them. They felt that he would know how to deal with Black Riders, if anyone did. They would soon now be going forward into lands wholly strange to them, and beyond all but the most vague and distant legends of the Shire, and in the gathering twilight they . A deep loneliness and sense of loss was on them. They stood silent, reluctant to make the final parting, and only slowly became wary! Keep up your merry hearts, and ride to meet your fortune!'They begged him to come at least as far as the inn and drink once more with them; but he laughed and refused, saying:Tom's country ends here: he will not pass the borders.Tom has his house to mind, and Goldberry is waiting!Then he turned, tossed up his hat, leaped on Lumpkin's back, and rode up over the bank and away singing into the dusk.aware that Tom was wishing them farewell, and telling them to have good heart and to ride on till dark without halting.'Tom will give you good advice, till this day is over (after that your own luck must go with you and guide you): four miles along the Road you'll come upon a village, Bree under Bree-hill, with doors looking westward. There you'll find an old inn that is called The Prancing Pony. Barliman Butterbur is the worthy keeper. There you can stay the night, and afterwards the morning will speed you upon your way. Be bold, but