Jack Vettriano Sometimes It's A Man's WorldJack Vettriano Soho NightsJack Vettriano Silhouette
Hibiscus bustled up. 'You boys ready, then?' he said.
'Hold on a minute,' said Cliff. 'We ain't discussed our pay.'
'I said six his arm around Glod's head and led him to a corner of the room.
Buddy watched the Librarian examine the piano. He'd never seen a musician begin by trying to eat his instrument. Then the ape lifted the lid and regarded the keyboard. He tried a few notes, apparently for taste.
Glod returned, rubbing his hands.
'That's sorted him out,' he said. 'Hah!'
'How much?' said Cliff.
'Six dollars!' said Glod.dollars,' said Hibiscus. 'What d'you expect? You aren't Guild, and the Guild rate is eight dollars.'‘We wouldn't ask you for eight dollars,' said Glod.'Right!''We'll take sixteen.''Sixteen? You can't do that! That's almost twice Guild rate!''But there's a lot of people out there,' said Glod. 'I bet you're renting a lot of beer. We don't mind going home.''Let's talk about this,' said Hibiscus. He put
Tuesday, May 12, 2009
Monday, May 11, 2009
Franz Marc fate animals
Franz Marc fate animalsFranz Marc Blue HorseMarc Chagall The Three CandlesMarc Chagall Paris Through the Window
dwarf took a deep breath, and extracted from the horn a deep, throbbing sound.
People drummed their fingers on the edge of the tables. The orang was sitting with a huge rapt grin on his face, as though he'd swallowed a banana sideways.
Susan looked down at the hourglass marked Imp y Celyn.
The top bulb The Librarian's hair was standing on end, all over his body. The ends crackled.
It made you want to kick down walls and ascend the sky on steps of fire. It made you want to pull all the switches and throw all the levers and stick your fingers in the electric socket was now quite empty of sand, but something blue flickered in there.She felt tiny pin‑like claws scrabble up her back and find purchase on her shoulder.The Death of Rats looked down at the glass.SQUEAK, it said, quietly.Susan still wasn't good on Rat but she thought she knew 'uh‑oh' when she heard it.Imp's fingers danced over the strings, but the sound that came from them was no relative to the tones of harp or lute. The guitar screamed like an angel who had just discovered why it was on the wrong side. Sparks glittered on the strings.Imp himself had his eyes shut and was holding the instrument close to his chest, like a soldier holding a spear at the port. It was hard to know who was playing what.And still the music flooded out.
dwarf took a deep breath, and extracted from the horn a deep, throbbing sound.
People drummed their fingers on the edge of the tables. The orang was sitting with a huge rapt grin on his face, as though he'd swallowed a banana sideways.
Susan looked down at the hourglass marked Imp y Celyn.
The top bulb The Librarian's hair was standing on end, all over his body. The ends crackled.
It made you want to kick down walls and ascend the sky on steps of fire. It made you want to pull all the switches and throw all the levers and stick your fingers in the electric socket was now quite empty of sand, but something blue flickered in there.She felt tiny pin‑like claws scrabble up her back and find purchase on her shoulder.The Death of Rats looked down at the glass.SQUEAK, it said, quietly.Susan still wasn't good on Rat but she thought she knew 'uh‑oh' when she heard it.Imp's fingers danced over the strings, but the sound that came from them was no relative to the tones of harp or lute. The guitar screamed like an angel who had just discovered why it was on the wrong side. Sparks glittered on the strings.Imp himself had his eyes shut and was holding the instrument close to his chest, like a soldier holding a spear at the port. It was hard to know who was playing what.And still the music flooded out.
Thursday, May 7, 2009
Dirck Bouts Resurrection
Dirck Bouts ResurrectionDirck Bouts The Gathering of the MannaDirck Bouts The Meeting of Abraham and MelchizedekFrederic Edwin Church Sunset
gather that you and, er, Constable Angua are getting along well?'
'We have a very good Understanding, sir. Of course, there will be minor difficulties,' said Carrot, 'but, to look on the positive side, I've,' said Lady Ramkin, from her side of the dining table. 'We must get you on that. And the Country Landowners' Association. And the Friendly Flamethrowers' League. Cheer up. You'll find your time will just fill up like nobody's business.'
'Yes, dear,' said Vimes. The days stretched ahead of him, just filling up like nobody's business got someone who's always ready for a walk around the city.'As Carrot had his hand on the door handle Lord Vetinari called out to him.'Yes, sir?'Carrot looked back at the tall thin man, standing in the big bare room beside the golden throne filled with decay.'You're a man interested in words, captain. I'd just invite you to consider something your predecessor never fully grasped.''Sir?''Have you ever wondered where the word "politician" comes from?' said the Patrician. And then there's the committee of the Sunshine Sanctuary
gather that you and, er, Constable Angua are getting along well?'
'We have a very good Understanding, sir. Of course, there will be minor difficulties,' said Carrot, 'but, to look on the positive side, I've,' said Lady Ramkin, from her side of the dining table. 'We must get you on that. And the Country Landowners' Association. And the Friendly Flamethrowers' League. Cheer up. You'll find your time will just fill up like nobody's business.'
'Yes, dear,' said Vimes. The days stretched ahead of him, just filling up like nobody's business got someone who's always ready for a walk around the city.'As Carrot had his hand on the door handle Lord Vetinari called out to him.'Yes, sir?'Carrot looked back at the tall thin man, standing in the big bare room beside the golden throne filled with decay.'You're a man interested in words, captain. I'd just invite you to consider something your predecessor never fully grasped.''Sir?''Have you ever wondered where the word "politician" comes from?' said the Patrician. And then there's the committee of the Sunshine Sanctuary
Monday, May 4, 2009
Cao Yong TWILIGHT BY THE FOUNTAIN
Cao Yong TWILIGHT BY THE FOUNTAINCao Yong TRANSAMERICA PYRAMIDCao Yong THE VISION BEYOND
said Carrot. 'Ordinary hens' eggs. What you do is, you get a hen's egg, and you make a hole in either end and you blow the egg stuff out,ones had faded almost to nothing. She put it down and unconsciously wiped her hand on her tunic.
'What happens if a clown wants to use another clown's face?' she said.
'Oh, we compare all the new eggs with the ones on the shelves,' said Boffo. 'It's not allowed.'
They walked between aisles of faces. Angua fanded she could hear the squelch of a million custard-filled trousers and the echoes of a thousand honking noses and a million and then a clown paints his make-up on the egg and that's his official make-up and no other clown can use it. That's very important. Some faces have been in the same family for generations, you know. Very valuable thing, a clown's face. Isn't that so, Boffo?'The clown was staring at him.'How do you know all that?''I read it in a book.'Angua picked up an ancient egg. There was a label attached to it, and on the label were a dozen names, all crossed out except the last one. The ink on the earlier
said Carrot. 'Ordinary hens' eggs. What you do is, you get a hen's egg, and you make a hole in either end and you blow the egg stuff out,ones had faded almost to nothing. She put it down and unconsciously wiped her hand on her tunic.
'What happens if a clown wants to use another clown's face?' she said.
'Oh, we compare all the new eggs with the ones on the shelves,' said Boffo. 'It's not allowed.'
They walked between aisles of faces. Angua fanded she could hear the squelch of a million custard-filled trousers and the echoes of a thousand honking noses and a million and then a clown paints his make-up on the egg and that's his official make-up and no other clown can use it. That's very important. Some faces have been in the same family for generations, you know. Very valuable thing, a clown's face. Isn't that so, Boffo?'The clown was staring at him.'How do you know all that?''I read it in a book.'Angua picked up an ancient egg. There was a label attached to it, and on the label were a dozen names, all crossed out except the last one. The ink on the earlier
Tuesday, April 28, 2009
William Merritt Chase Idle Hours
William Merritt Chase Idle HoursWilliam Merritt Chase ReflectionsJulius LeBlanc Stewart The LetterFrederic Edwin Church Jerusalem from the Mount of Olives
a dead end.'
The two Watchmen lumbered to a halt.
Cuddy knew that he was currently the brains of the partnership, even though Detritus was presently counting, his face name was fortunately lost in the celebrated mists of time, but it had come to be deserved. It had turned into a kind of tunnel as upper storeys were built out and over it, leaving a few inches of sky.
Cuddy peered around the corner, into the gloom.
Click. Click.
It came from deep in the darkness.
'Detritus?'
'Yeah?'
'Did he have any weapons?'beaming with pride, the stones in the wall beside him.Why had they chased someone halfway across the dry ? Because they'd run away. No-one ran away from the Watch. Thieves just flashed their licences. Unlicensed thieves had nothing to fear from the Watch, since they'd saved up all their fear for the Thieves' Guild. Assassins always obeyed the letter of the law. And honest men didn't run away from the WatchRunning away from the Watch was downright suspicious.The origin of Grope Alley's
a dead end.'
The two Watchmen lumbered to a halt.
Cuddy knew that he was currently the brains of the partnership, even though Detritus was presently counting, his face name was fortunately lost in the celebrated mists of time, but it had come to be deserved. It had turned into a kind of tunnel as upper storeys were built out and over it, leaving a few inches of sky.
Cuddy peered around the corner, into the gloom.
Click. Click.
It came from deep in the darkness.
'Detritus?'
'Yeah?'
'Did he have any weapons?'beaming with pride, the stones in the wall beside him.Why had they chased someone halfway across the dry ? Because they'd run away. No-one ran away from the Watch. Thieves just flashed their licences. Unlicensed thieves had nothing to fear from the Watch, since they'd saved up all their fear for the Thieves' Guild. Assassins always obeyed the letter of the law. And honest men didn't run away from the WatchRunning away from the Watch was downright suspicious.The origin of Grope Alley's
Thomas Gainsborough The Watering Place
Thomas Gainsborough The Watering PlaceThomas Gainsborough The Morning WalkThomas Gainsborough The Harvest Wagon
was lucky!' he said. 'Could have been a nasty accident there.'
He triedto you, you were among the first to know.
His visitor grabbed the device from the bench and rammed it into a cloth bag. Then he looked around wildly, picked up the corpse of Mr Hammerhock, and dragged it through the door towards the river.
There was a distant splash, or as close to a splash as you could get from the Ankh.
'Oh dear,' said Bjorn. 'And I can't swim, either.'
THAT WILL NOT, OF COURSE, BE A PROBLEM, said Death.
Bjorn looked at him.
'You're a lot shorter than I thought you'd be,' he said. to fan some of the smoke away, and then reached for the file again.His hand went through it.AHEM.Bjorn tried again.The file was as insubstantial as the smoke.'What?'AHEM.The owner of the strange device was staring in horror at something on the floor. Bjorn followed his gaze.'Oh,' he said. Realization, which had been hovering on the edge of Bjorn's consciousness, finally dawned. That was the thing about death. When it happened
was lucky!' he said. 'Could have been a nasty accident there.'
He triedto you, you were among the first to know.
His visitor grabbed the device from the bench and rammed it into a cloth bag. Then he looked around wildly, picked up the corpse of Mr Hammerhock, and dragged it through the door towards the river.
There was a distant splash, or as close to a splash as you could get from the Ankh.
'Oh dear,' said Bjorn. 'And I can't swim, either.'
THAT WILL NOT, OF COURSE, BE A PROBLEM, said Death.
Bjorn looked at him.
'You're a lot shorter than I thought you'd be,' he said. to fan some of the smoke away, and then reached for the file again.His hand went through it.AHEM.Bjorn tried again.The file was as insubstantial as the smoke.'What?'AHEM.The owner of the strange device was staring in horror at something on the floor. Bjorn followed his gaze.'Oh,' he said. Realization, which had been hovering on the edge of Bjorn's consciousness, finally dawned. That was the thing about death. When it happened
Sunday, April 26, 2009
Andy Warhol Sunset
Andy Warhol SunsetAndy Warhol Shadows IAndy Warhol OxidationAndy Warhol NeuschwansteinAndy Warhol Knives black and white
embarrassing disease he'd died of.
They had just eaten a not-very-good meal which had, however, included some ancient and worthwhile wines. They'd attended because they'd all known Edward's father, and the d'Eaths were a fine old family, if now in very reduced circumstances.
'So you see,' would be somewhat watered down by now, don't you think?'
'The royal b-lood cannot be wa-tered down!'
Ah, thought Lord Rust. So he's that kind. Young Edward thinks the touch of a king can cure scrofula, as if royalty was the equivalent of a sulphur ointment. Young Edward thinks that there is no lake of blood too big to wade through to put a rightful king on a throne, no deed too base in defence of a crown. A romantic, in fact.said Edward proudly, 'the evidence is overwhelming. We have a king!'His audience tried to avoid looking at one another's faces.'I thought you'd be pl-eased,' said Edward.Finally, Lord Rust voiced the unspoken consensus. There was no room in those true-blue eyes for pity, which was not a survival trait, but sometimes it was possible to risk a little kindness.'Edward,' he said, 'the last king of Ankh-Morpork died centuries ago.''Executed by t-raitors!''Even if a descendant could still be found, the royal blood
embarrassing disease he'd died of.
They had just eaten a not-very-good meal which had, however, included some ancient and worthwhile wines. They'd attended because they'd all known Edward's father, and the d'Eaths were a fine old family, if now in very reduced circumstances.
'So you see,' would be somewhat watered down by now, don't you think?'
'The royal b-lood cannot be wa-tered down!'
Ah, thought Lord Rust. So he's that kind. Young Edward thinks the touch of a king can cure scrofula, as if royalty was the equivalent of a sulphur ointment. Young Edward thinks that there is no lake of blood too big to wade through to put a rightful king on a throne, no deed too base in defence of a crown. A romantic, in fact.said Edward proudly, 'the evidence is overwhelming. We have a king!'His audience tried to avoid looking at one another's faces.'I thought you'd be pl-eased,' said Edward.Finally, Lord Rust voiced the unspoken consensus. There was no room in those true-blue eyes for pity, which was not a survival trait, but sometimes it was possible to risk a little kindness.'Edward,' he said, 'the last king of Ankh-Morpork died centuries ago.''Executed by t-raitors!''Even if a descendant could still be found, the royal blood
Friday, April 24, 2009
Cao Yong AGE OF INNOCENCE
Cao Yong AGE OF INNOCENCECao Yong AFTERNOON TEACao Yong cao yong Red Umbrella
change in the texture of the forest now. It was old even by the standards of Lancre forestry. Beards of moss hung from gnarled low branches. Ancient leaves crack-led underfoot as the witch and the dwarf flew between the trees. Something heard them and crashed away through the thick undergrowth. By the sound of it, it was something with horns.
Nanny let the broomstick glide to a halt.
“There,” she said, pushing aside a bracken frond, ‘the Long Man.’”
Casanunda peeredon privy walls with 200,000 tons of earth, in a manner of speaking.”
248
LOR08 fiND Lft0/£6
“Doesn’t sound like you to be shocked by that sort of thing.”
She could have sworn the dwarf was blushing under his wig. under her elbow.“Is that all? It’s just an old burial mound.”“Three old burial mounds,” said NannyCasanunda took in the overgrown landscape.“Yes, I see them,” he said. “Two round ones and a long one. Well?”“The first time I saw ‘em from the air,” said Nanny, “I nearly fell off the bloody broomstick for laughin’.”There was one of those pauses known as the delayed drop while the dwarf worked out the topography of the situation.Then:“Blimey,” said Casanunda. “I thought the people who built burial mounds and earthworks and things were serious druids and people like that, not. . . not people who drew
change in the texture of the forest now. It was old even by the standards of Lancre forestry. Beards of moss hung from gnarled low branches. Ancient leaves crack-led underfoot as the witch and the dwarf flew between the trees. Something heard them and crashed away through the thick undergrowth. By the sound of it, it was something with horns.
Nanny let the broomstick glide to a halt.
“There,” she said, pushing aside a bracken frond, ‘the Long Man.’”
Casanunda peeredon privy walls with 200,000 tons of earth, in a manner of speaking.”
248
LOR08 fiND Lft0/£6
“Doesn’t sound like you to be shocked by that sort of thing.”
She could have sworn the dwarf was blushing under his wig. under her elbow.“Is that all? It’s just an old burial mound.”“Three old burial mounds,” said NannyCasanunda took in the overgrown landscape.“Yes, I see them,” he said. “Two round ones and a long one. Well?”“The first time I saw ‘em from the air,” said Nanny, “I nearly fell off the bloody broomstick for laughin’.”There was one of those pauses known as the delayed drop while the dwarf worked out the topography of the situation.Then:“Blimey,” said Casanunda. “I thought the people who built burial mounds and earthworks and things were serious druids and people like that, not. . . not people who drew
Wednesday, April 22, 2009
Thomas Kinkade Cape Hatteras Light
Thomas Kinkade Cape Hatteras LightJohn Collier Priestess of DelphiVincent van Gogh Starry Night over the Rhone I
types with pointy ears and a tendency to giggle and burn easily in sunshine. I ain’t talking about them.
There’s no harm in them. I’m talking about real wild elves,
what we ain’t seen here for—“
The road from the bridge to the town curved between high banks, with the forest crowding in on either side and in places even meeting overhead. Thick ferns, already curling like green breakers, lined the clay banks.
They rustled.
The unicorn Granny Weatherwax smiled.
Millie Chillum and the king and one or two hangers-on were clustered around the door to Magrat’s room when Nanny Ogg arrived.
“What’s happening?”
“I know she’s in there,” said Verence, holding his crown in his hands in the famous leapt on the road.Thousands of universes, twisting together like a rope being plaited from threads .. .There’s bound to be leakages, a sort of mental equivalent of’the channel breakthrough on a cheap hi-fi that gets you the news in Swedish during quiet bits in the music. Especially if you’ve spent your life using your mind as a receiver.187Terry PratchettPicking up the thoughts of another human being is very hard, because no two minds are on the same, er, wavelength.But somewhere out there, at the point where the parallel universes tangle, are a million minds just like yours. For a very obvious reason.
types with pointy ears and a tendency to giggle and burn easily in sunshine. I ain’t talking about them.
There’s no harm in them. I’m talking about real wild elves,
what we ain’t seen here for—“
The road from the bridge to the town curved between high banks, with the forest crowding in on either side and in places even meeting overhead. Thick ferns, already curling like green breakers, lined the clay banks.
They rustled.
The unicorn Granny Weatherwax smiled.
Millie Chillum and the king and one or two hangers-on were clustered around the door to Magrat’s room when Nanny Ogg arrived.
“What’s happening?”
“I know she’s in there,” said Verence, holding his crown in his hands in the famous leapt on the road.Thousands of universes, twisting together like a rope being plaited from threads .. .There’s bound to be leakages, a sort of mental equivalent of’the channel breakthrough on a cheap hi-fi that gets you the news in Swedish during quiet bits in the music. Especially if you’ve spent your life using your mind as a receiver.187Terry PratchettPicking up the thoughts of another human being is very hard, because no two minds are on the same, er, wavelength.But somewhere out there, at the point where the parallel universes tangle, are a million minds just like yours. For a very obvious reason.
Tuesday, April 21, 2009
Pop art elvis
Pop art elvisPop art coltrane on rustPop art Bruce Springsteen - The BOSSPop art booker t & the mgs on green
Well, that’s about it, then,” said Granny Weatherwax, as the warriors approached. She dropped her voice.
“When the time comes,” she said, “run.”
“What time?”
“You’ll know.”
Granny fell to in an area that Nanny Ogg would be surprised that Esme Weatherwax even knew about.
Diamanda was already running. Granny’s elbow caught the other elf in the chest as she set off after her.
Behind her, she heard the merry laughter of the elves.
Diamanda had been surprised at Granny’s old lady act. She was far more surprised when Granny drew level. But Granny had more to run away from.her knees as the elves approached.“Oh, deary me, oh spare my life, I am but a poor old woman and skinny also,” she said. “Oh spare my life, young sir. Oh lawks.”She curled up, sobbing. Diamanda looked at her in astonishment, not least at how anyone could expect to get away with something like that.115Terry PratchettElves had been away from humans for a long time. The first elf reached her, hauled her up by her shoulder, and got a doubled-handed, bony-knuckled punch
Well, that’s about it, then,” said Granny Weatherwax, as the warriors approached. She dropped her voice.
“When the time comes,” she said, “run.”
“What time?”
“You’ll know.”
Granny fell to in an area that Nanny Ogg would be surprised that Esme Weatherwax even knew about.
Diamanda was already running. Granny’s elbow caught the other elf in the chest as she set off after her.
Behind her, she heard the merry laughter of the elves.
Diamanda had been surprised at Granny’s old lady act. She was far more surprised when Granny drew level. But Granny had more to run away from.her knees as the elves approached.“Oh, deary me, oh spare my life, I am but a poor old woman and skinny also,” she said. “Oh spare my life, young sir. Oh lawks.”She curled up, sobbing. Diamanda looked at her in astonishment, not least at how anyone could expect to get away with something like that.115Terry PratchettElves had been away from humans for a long time. The first elf reached her, hauled her up by her shoulder, and got a doubled-handed, bony-knuckled punch
Monday, April 20, 2009
Leroy Neiman Roulette II
Leroy Neiman Roulette IILeroy Neiman Marlin FishingLeroy Neiman Mardi Gras Parade
Weren’t my fault. Mum! How could I stop ‘em?”
Nanny sat back in the chair, smiling happily
“What them would these be, my son?”
“That young Diamanda and that Perdita and that girl with the red hair from over in Bad Ass and them others. I says to old Peason, I says you’d have something to say, I tole ‘em Mistress Weatherwax’d get her knic—would defi-nitely be sarcastic when she found out,” said Jason. “But they just laughs. They said they could teach ‘emselves witching.”
Nanny nodded. gone.”
“Ah.”
Nanny Ogg lit her pipe from the forge. Floppy hat and black nails and education. Oh, dear.
“How many of these gels are there, then?” she said.
“Bout half a dozen. But they’m good at it. Mum.”
“Yeah?”Actually, they were quite right. You could teach yourself witchcraft. But both the teacher and the pupil had to be the right kind of person.“Diamanda?” she said. “Don’t recall the name.”“Really she’s Lucy Tockley,” said Jason. “She says Diamanda is more .. . more witchy.”“Ah. The one that wears the big floppy felt hat?”“Yes, Mum.”“She’s the one that paints her nails black, too?”“Yes, Mum.”“Old Tockley sent her off to school, didn’t he?”“Yes, Mum. She came back while you was
Weren’t my fault. Mum! How could I stop ‘em?”
Nanny sat back in the chair, smiling happily
“What them would these be, my son?”
“That young Diamanda and that Perdita and that girl with the red hair from over in Bad Ass and them others. I says to old Peason, I says you’d have something to say, I tole ‘em Mistress Weatherwax’d get her knic—would defi-nitely be sarcastic when she found out,” said Jason. “But they just laughs. They said they could teach ‘emselves witching.”
Nanny nodded. gone.”
“Ah.”
Nanny Ogg lit her pipe from the forge. Floppy hat and black nails and education. Oh, dear.
“How many of these gels are there, then?” she said.
“Bout half a dozen. But they’m good at it. Mum.”
“Yeah?”Actually, they were quite right. You could teach yourself witchcraft. But both the teacher and the pupil had to be the right kind of person.“Diamanda?” she said. “Don’t recall the name.”“Really she’s Lucy Tockley,” said Jason. “She says Diamanda is more .. . more witchy.”“Ah. The one that wears the big floppy felt hat?”“Yes, Mum.”“She’s the one that paints her nails black, too?”“Yes, Mum.”“Old Tockley sent her off to school, didn’t he?”“Yes, Mum. She came back while you was
Friday, April 17, 2009
Thomas Kinkade Pools of Serenity
Thomas Kinkade Pools of SerenityThomas Kinkade Make a Wish Cottage 2Thomas Kinkade Home For Christmas
never forget a face, friend. Just take yours away, right? While you still have some left?"
He turned back to the game.
"S'cuse me," said a voice by his waist. He looked down at a very large newt.
"Yes?"
"You not supposed do that here. No Smiting. Not up here. It the rules. You want fight, you get your humans fight his humans."
"Who're you?"
"P'tang-P'tang, me."
"You're a god?"
"Definite."
"Yeah? How many worshipers have you got?"
"Fifty-one!"
The newt looked at him hopefully, and added, "Is that lots? Can't count."
It pointed at. It seemed simpler when you were up here. It was all a game. You forgot that it wasn't a game down there. People died. Bits got chopped off. We're like eagles up here, he thought. Sometimes we show a tortoise how to flY.
Then we let go.
He said, to the occult world in general, "There's people going to die down there." a rather crudely molded figure on the beach in Omnia and said, "But got a stake!"Om looked at the figure of the little fisherman."When he dies, you'll have fifty worshippers," he said."That more or less than fifty-one?""A lot less.""Definite?""Yes.""No one tell me that."There were several dozen gods watching the beach. Om vaguely remembered the Ephebian statues. There was the goddess with the badly carved owl. Yes.Om rubbed his head. This wasn't god-like thinking
A Tsortean God of the Sun did not even bother to
never forget a face, friend. Just take yours away, right? While you still have some left?"
He turned back to the game.
"S'cuse me," said a voice by his waist. He looked down at a very large newt.
"Yes?"
"You not supposed do that here. No Smiting. Not up here. It the rules. You want fight, you get your humans fight his humans."
"Who're you?"
"P'tang-P'tang, me."
"You're a god?"
"Definite."
"Yeah? How many worshipers have you got?"
"Fifty-one!"
The newt looked at him hopefully, and added, "Is that lots? Can't count."
It pointed at. It seemed simpler when you were up here. It was all a game. You forgot that it wasn't a game down there. People died. Bits got chopped off. We're like eagles up here, he thought. Sometimes we show a tortoise how to flY.
Then we let go.
He said, to the occult world in general, "There's people going to die down there." a rather crudely molded figure on the beach in Omnia and said, "But got a stake!"Om looked at the figure of the little fisherman."When he dies, you'll have fifty worshippers," he said."That more or less than fifty-one?""A lot less.""Definite?""Yes.""No one tell me that."There were several dozen gods watching the beach. Om vaguely remembered the Ephebian statues. There was the goddess with the badly carved owl. Yes.Om rubbed his head. This wasn't god-like thinking
A Tsortean God of the Sun did not even bother to
Thursday, April 16, 2009
Claude Monet La Grenouillere
Claude Monet La GrenouillereFabian Perez TangoFabian Perez Flamenco
has spoken to me. A machine that goes by itself? Such a thing is against all reason. Where are its muscles? Where is its mind?"
"Yes, lord."
The inquisitor, whose name was Deacon Cusp, had got where he was today, which was a place he wasn't sure right now that he "I have . . . special knowledge," said Vorbis.
"Of course, lord."
"You know the breaking strain of sinews and muscles, Deacon Cusp."
Cusp had formed an opinion that Vorbis was somewhere on the other side of madnesswanted to be, because he liked hurting people. It was a simple desire, and one that was satisfied in abundance within the Quisition. And he was one of those who were terrified in a very particular way by Vorbis. Hurting people because you enjoyed it . . . that was understandable. Vorbis just hurt people because he'd decided that they should be hurt, without passion, even with a kind of hard love.In Cusp's experience, people didn't make things up, ultimately, not in front of an exquisitor. Or course there were no such things as devices that moved by themselves, but he made a mental note to increase the guard-"However," said Vorbis, "there will be a disturbance during the ceremony tomorrow.""Lord?"
has spoken to me. A machine that goes by itself? Such a thing is against all reason. Where are its muscles? Where is its mind?"
"Yes, lord."
The inquisitor, whose name was Deacon Cusp, had got where he was today, which was a place he wasn't sure right now that he "I have . . . special knowledge," said Vorbis.
"Of course, lord."
"You know the breaking strain of sinews and muscles, Deacon Cusp."
Cusp had formed an opinion that Vorbis was somewhere on the other side of madnesswanted to be, because he liked hurting people. It was a simple desire, and one that was satisfied in abundance within the Quisition. And he was one of those who were terrified in a very particular way by Vorbis. Hurting people because you enjoyed it . . . that was understandable. Vorbis just hurt people because he'd decided that they should be hurt, without passion, even with a kind of hard love.In Cusp's experience, people didn't make things up, ultimately, not in front of an exquisitor. Or course there were no such things as devices that moved by themselves, but he made a mental note to increase the guard-"However," said Vorbis, "there will be a disturbance during the ceremony tomorrow.""Lord?"
Wednesday, April 15, 2009
Henri Rousseau The Flamingos
Henri Rousseau The FlamingosHenri Rousseau The Equatorial JungleHenri Rousseau The Boat in the StormHenri Rousseau Surprise
may go where you wish. See new things, Brutha. Learn everything you can. You are my eyes and ears. And my memory. Learn about this place."
"Er. Really, lord?"
"Have I impressed you with my use of careless language, Brutha?"
"No, lord."
"Go away. Fill yourself. And be back by sunset."
"Er. Even the Library?" said Brutha.
"Ah? Yes, the Library. The Library that they have here. Of course. Crammed with useless and dangerous and evil knowledge. I can see it in my mind, Brutha. Can you imagine that?"
"No, Lord stare at the wall. Brutha wondered what he saw there. When nothing else appeared to be forthcoming, he said, "Thank you."
He stepped back a bit before he went out, so that he could squint under the deacon's bed.
He's probably in trouble, Brutha thought as he hurried through the palace. Everyone wants to eat tortoises.
He tried to look everywhere while avoiding the friezes of unclad nymphsVorbis.""Your innocence is your shield, Brutha. No. By all means go to the Library. I have no fear of any effect on you. ""Lord Vorbis?""Yes?""The Tyrant said that they hardly did anything to Brother Murduck . . ."Silence unrolled its restless length.Vorbis said, "He lied.""Yes." Brutha waited. Vorbis continued to
may go where you wish. See new things, Brutha. Learn everything you can. You are my eyes and ears. And my memory. Learn about this place."
"Er. Really, lord?"
"Have I impressed you with my use of careless language, Brutha?"
"No, lord."
"Go away. Fill yourself. And be back by sunset."
"Er. Even the Library?" said Brutha.
"Ah? Yes, the Library. The Library that they have here. Of course. Crammed with useless and dangerous and evil knowledge. I can see it in my mind, Brutha. Can you imagine that?"
"No, Lord stare at the wall. Brutha wondered what he saw there. When nothing else appeared to be forthcoming, he said, "Thank you."
He stepped back a bit before he went out, so that he could squint under the deacon's bed.
He's probably in trouble, Brutha thought as he hurried through the palace. Everyone wants to eat tortoises.
He tried to look everywhere while avoiding the friezes of unclad nymphsVorbis.""Your innocence is your shield, Brutha. No. By all means go to the Library. I have no fear of any effect on you. ""Lord Vorbis?""Yes?""The Tyrant said that they hardly did anything to Brother Murduck . . ."Silence unrolled its restless length.Vorbis said, "He lied.""Yes." Brutha waited. Vorbis continued to
Monday, April 13, 2009
Pierre Auguste Renoir Les baigneuses
Pierre Auguste Renoir Les baigneusesPierre Auguste Renoir By the SeashoreThomas Kinkade Victorian AutumnThomas Kinkade The Night Before Christmas
ought to mulch the melons and explain things to Lu-Tze.
Lu-Tze came with the gardens.
Every organization has someone like him. They might be pushing a broom in obscure corridors, or wandering among the shelves in. He dealt in soil, manure, muck, compost, loam, and dust, and the means of moving it about. Generally he was pushing a broom, or turning over a heap. Once anyone put seeds in anything he lost interest.
He was raking the paths when Brutha entered. He was good at raking paths. He left scallop patterns and gentle soothing curves. Brutha always felt apologetic about walking on them.
He hardly ever spoke to Lu-Tze, because it didn't matter much what anyone ever said the back of the stores (where they are the only person who knows where anything is) or have some ambiguous but essential relationship with the boiler-room. Everyone knows who they are and no one remembers a time when they weren't there, or knows where they go when they're not, well, where they usually are. Just occasionally, people who are slightly more observant than most other people, which is not on the face of it very difficult, stop and wonder about them for a while . . . and then get on with something else.Strangely enough, given his gentle ambling from garden to garden around the Citadel, Lu-Tze never showed much interest in the plants themselves
ought to mulch the melons and explain things to Lu-Tze.
Lu-Tze came with the gardens.
Every organization has someone like him. They might be pushing a broom in obscure corridors, or wandering among the shelves in. He dealt in soil, manure, muck, compost, loam, and dust, and the means of moving it about. Generally he was pushing a broom, or turning over a heap. Once anyone put seeds in anything he lost interest.
He was raking the paths when Brutha entered. He was good at raking paths. He left scallop patterns and gentle soothing curves. Brutha always felt apologetic about walking on them.
He hardly ever spoke to Lu-Tze, because it didn't matter much what anyone ever said the back of the stores (where they are the only person who knows where anything is) or have some ambiguous but essential relationship with the boiler-room. Everyone knows who they are and no one remembers a time when they weren't there, or knows where they go when they're not, well, where they usually are. Just occasionally, people who are slightly more observant than most other people, which is not on the face of it very difficult, stop and wonder about them for a while . . . and then get on with something else.Strangely enough, given his gentle ambling from garden to garden around the Citadel, Lu-Tze never showed much interest in the plants themselves
George Bellows Stag at Sharkey's
George Bellows Stag at Sharkey'sGeorge Bellows Dempsey and FirpoCaravaggio The Sacrifice of Isaac
face.
'Is your geese giving you trouble?' said the Seriph.
'Geas,' said The scattered particles of what had been Rincewind's mind pulled themselves together and drifted up through the layers of dark unconsciousness like a three-day corpse rising to the surface.
It probed its most recent memories, in much the same way that one might scratch a fresh scab.
He could recall something about a staff, and a pain so intense that it appeared to insert a chisel between every cell in his body and hammer on it repeatedly.Nijel calmly. 'It's not giving me trouble, it's just that I must do something brave before I die.''That's it though,' said Creosote. 'That's the whole rather sad point. You'll do something brave, and then you'll die.''What alternative have we got?' said Nijel.They considered this.'I don't think I'm much good at explaining,' said Conina, in a small voice.'I am,' said Nijel, firmly. 'I'm always having to explain.'
face.
'Is your geese giving you trouble?' said the Seriph.
'Geas,' said The scattered particles of what had been Rincewind's mind pulled themselves together and drifted up through the layers of dark unconsciousness like a three-day corpse rising to the surface.
It probed its most recent memories, in much the same way that one might scratch a fresh scab.
He could recall something about a staff, and a pain so intense that it appeared to insert a chisel between every cell in his body and hammer on it repeatedly.Nijel calmly. 'It's not giving me trouble, it's just that I must do something brave before I die.''That's it though,' said Creosote. 'That's the whole rather sad point. You'll do something brave, and then you'll die.''What alternative have we got?' said Nijel.They considered this.'I don't think I'm much good at explaining,' said Conina, in a small voice.'I am,' said Nijel, firmly. 'I'm always having to explain.'
Friday, April 10, 2009
Gustave Caillebotte Oarsmen
Gustave Caillebotte OarsmenLorenzo Lotto Mystic Marriage of St CatherineLorenzo Lotto Angel Annunciating
One story said that the gods stepped in, but the gods don't usually take a hand in human affairs unless it amuses themthe world. There's going to be a horrible war. It's all going to happen. The Disc is too old to take it this time. Everything's been worn too thin. Doom, darkness and destruction bear down on us. The Apocralypse is nigh.'
'Death walks abroad,' added Nijel helpfully.
'What?' snapped Rincewind, angry at being interrupted.. Another one - and this was the one that the wizards themselves told, and wrote down in their books - was that the wizards themselves got together and settled their differences amicably for the good of mankind. And this was generally accepted as the true account, despite being as internally likely as a lead lifebelt.The truth isn't easily pinned to a page. In the bathtub of history the truth is harder to hold than the soap, and much more difficult to find ... 'What happened, then?' said Conina.'It doesn't matter,' said Rincewind, mournfully. 'It's going to start all over again. I can feel it. I've got this instinct. There's too much magic flowing into
One story said that the gods stepped in, but the gods don't usually take a hand in human affairs unless it amuses themthe world. There's going to be a horrible war. It's all going to happen. The Disc is too old to take it this time. Everything's been worn too thin. Doom, darkness and destruction bear down on us. The Apocralypse is nigh.'
'Death walks abroad,' added Nijel helpfully.
'What?' snapped Rincewind, angry at being interrupted.. Another one - and this was the one that the wizards themselves told, and wrote down in their books - was that the wizards themselves got together and settled their differences amicably for the good of mankind. And this was generally accepted as the true account, despite being as internally likely as a lead lifebelt.The truth isn't easily pinned to a page. In the bathtub of history the truth is harder to hold than the soap, and much more difficult to find ... 'What happened, then?' said Conina.'It doesn't matter,' said Rincewind, mournfully. 'It's going to start all over again. I can feel it. I've got this instinct. There's too much magic flowing into
Thursday, April 9, 2009
Salvador Dali Galatea of the Spheres
Salvador Dali Galatea of the SpheresSalvador Dali GalarinaSalvador Dali Figure at a Window I
in probably wasn't the same building when you woke up. Rooms had a habit of changing and moving around, a consequence of all this random magic. It built up in the carpets, charging up the wizards to such an extent that shaking kedgeree when you lifted it off the plate might well have turned into something else by the time it entered your mouth. If you were lucky, it was inedible. If you were unlucky, it was edible but probably not something you liked to think you were about to eat or, worse, had already eaten half of.
Spelter found Coin in what had been, late last night, a broom cupboard. It was hands with somebody was a sure-fire way of turning them into something. The build up of magic, in fact, was overflowing the capacity of the area to hold it. If something wasn't done about it soon, then even the common people would be able to use it - a chilling thought but, since Spelter's mind was already so full of chilling thoughts you could use it as an ice tray, not one he was going to spend much time worrying about.Mere household geography wasn't the only difficulty, though. Sheer pressure of thaumaturgical inflow was even affecting the food. What was a forkful of
in probably wasn't the same building when you woke up. Rooms had a habit of changing and moving around, a consequence of all this random magic. It built up in the carpets, charging up the wizards to such an extent that shaking kedgeree when you lifted it off the plate might well have turned into something else by the time it entered your mouth. If you were lucky, it was inedible. If you were unlucky, it was edible but probably not something you liked to think you were about to eat or, worse, had already eaten half of.
Spelter found Coin in what had been, late last night, a broom cupboard. It was hands with somebody was a sure-fire way of turning them into something. The build up of magic, in fact, was overflowing the capacity of the area to hold it. If something wasn't done about it soon, then even the common people would be able to use it - a chilling thought but, since Spelter's mind was already so full of chilling thoughts you could use it as an ice tray, not one he was going to spend much time worrying about.Mere household geography wasn't the only difficulty, though. Sheer pressure of thaumaturgical inflow was even affecting the food. What was a forkful of
Wednesday, April 8, 2009
William Merritt Chase Idle Hours
William Merritt Chase Idle HoursWilliam Merritt Chase ReflectionsJulius LeBlanc Stewart The Letter
Rincewind sat and stared blankly at nothing much for fully ten seconds before giving a little scream and running as fast as he could.
He didn't stop until he'd reached his own room in the Library building. It wasn't much of a room, being mainly used to store oldAnd on top of the wardrobe, wrapped in scraps of yellowing paper and old dust sheets, was a large brassbound chest. It went by the name of the Luggage. Why it consented to be owned by Rincewind was something only the Luggage knew, and it wasn't telling, but probably no other item in the entire chronicle of travel accessories had quite such a history of mystery and grievous bodily harm. It had been described as half suitcase, half homicidal maniac. It had many unusual qualitie furniture, but it was home.Against one shadowy wall was a wardrobe. It wasn't one of your modern wardrobes, fit only for nervous adulterers to jump into when the husband returned home early, but an ancient oak affair, dark as night, in whose dusty depths coat-hangers lurked and bred; herds of flaking shoes roamed its floor. It was quite possible that it was a secret doorway to fabulous worlds, but no-one had ever tried to find out because of the distressing smell of mothballs.s
Rincewind sat and stared blankly at nothing much for fully ten seconds before giving a little scream and running as fast as he could.
He didn't stop until he'd reached his own room in the Library building. It wasn't much of a room, being mainly used to store oldAnd on top of the wardrobe, wrapped in scraps of yellowing paper and old dust sheets, was a large brassbound chest. It went by the name of the Luggage. Why it consented to be owned by Rincewind was something only the Luggage knew, and it wasn't telling, but probably no other item in the entire chronicle of travel accessories had quite such a history of mystery and grievous bodily harm. It had been described as half suitcase, half homicidal maniac. It had many unusual qualitie furniture, but it was home.Against one shadowy wall was a wardrobe. It wasn't one of your modern wardrobes, fit only for nervous adulterers to jump into when the husband returned home early, but an ancient oak affair, dark as night, in whose dusty depths coat-hangers lurked and bred; herds of flaking shoes roamed its floor. It was quite possible that it was a secret doorway to fabulous worlds, but no-one had ever tried to find out because of the distressing smell of mothballs.s
Tuesday, April 7, 2009
Thomas Kinkade Sweetheart Cottage II
Thomas Kinkade Sweetheart Cottage IIThomas Kinkade Sunrise ChapelThomas Kinkade Streams of Living Water
FOLK DANCING? said Death, wearily.
‘No. We have some pride, you know.’
SORRY.
‘. His voice faltered a bit as he tried to analyse the situation.
‘You’re looking very . . . sparkly . . . tonight, Miss Flitworth,’ he finished, gallantly.
The air smelled of warm, damp grass. An amateur orchestra was still setting up under an awning.
There were trestle tables covered with the kind of food that’s normally associated with the word “repast” - pork pies like varnished military fortifications, vats of demonical pickled onions, jacket potatoes wallowing in a cholesterol ocean of melted butter. Some of the local elders had already established themselves on the benches provided, and were chewing stoically if toothlessly through the food withHey, it’s Bill Door, isn’t it?’ said a figure looming out of the dusk.‘It’s good old Bill!’‘Hey, Bill!’Death looked at a circle of guileless faces.HALLO. MY FRIENDS.‘We heard you’d gone away,’ said Duke Bottomley. He glanced at Miss Flitworth, as Death helped her down from the horse
FOLK DANCING? said Death, wearily.
‘No. We have some pride, you know.’
SORRY.
‘. His voice faltered a bit as he tried to analyse the situation.
‘You’re looking very . . . sparkly . . . tonight, Miss Flitworth,’ he finished, gallantly.
The air smelled of warm, damp grass. An amateur orchestra was still setting up under an awning.
There were trestle tables covered with the kind of food that’s normally associated with the word “repast” - pork pies like varnished military fortifications, vats of demonical pickled onions, jacket potatoes wallowing in a cholesterol ocean of melted butter. Some of the local elders had already established themselves on the benches provided, and were chewing stoically if toothlessly through the food withHey, it’s Bill Door, isn’t it?’ said a figure looming out of the dusk.‘It’s good old Bill!’‘Hey, Bill!’Death looked at a circle of guileless faces.HALLO. MY FRIENDS.‘We heard you’d gone away,’ said Duke Bottomley. He glanced at Miss Flitworth, as Death helped her down from the horse
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