George Inness SpringGeorge Inness Spring Blossoms New JerseyGeorge Inness RomeGeorge Inness Pond at Milton on the HudsonGeorge Inness Passing Clouds
part of a second, that didn’t mean you’d failed. It meant you had to keep on doing it.
He scurried crabwise along the base of the tower, staring up at the climbing Thing, and tripped over something metallic. It turned out to be the Librarian’s dropped pike. A little further off, the end of the rope trailed in a puddle.
He stared at ape up a tall building,’ sighed Dibbler. ‘And we’re not even having to pay wages!’
‘Yeah,’ said Soll.
‘Yeah . . . ‘ said Dibbler. There was a tiny note of uncertainty in them for a moment, then used the pike to chop a few feet off the rope to make a crude shoulder strap for the weapon.He grabbed the rope and gave it an experimental tug, and then . . .There was an unpleasant lack of resistance to the pull. He threw himself backwards just before hundreds of feet of sodden rope smacked damply on to the paving.He looked around desperately for another route to the top. The Dibblers watched open mouthed as the Thing climbed. It wasn’t moving very fast, and occasionally had to wedge the gibbering Librarian into a handy buttress while it found the next handhold, but it was moving up.‘Oh, yes. Yes. Yes,’ breathed Soll. ‘What a picture! Pure kinema!’‘A giant woman carrying a screaming
Tuesday, 31 March 2009
Monday, 30 March 2009
Vincent van Gogh Vase with Twelve Sunflowers
Vincent van Gogh Vase with Twelve SunflowersVincent van Gogh Vase with Daisies and AnemonesVincent van Gogh The Starry Night 2Vincent van Gogh The Church in AuversVincent van Gogh Still Life with Open Bible
There was a canine grunt, a frantic kicking which showered Victor with gravel, and a small bark of triumph.
‘O’corse, he’s a bit skinnier’n me,’ said Gaspode, after a while.
‘Now you two run and fetch help,’ said Victor. ‘Er. We’ll wait here.’
He heard them disappear into the distance. Laddie’s faraway barking indicated that they had reached the outside air.
Victor ‘What ‑ what was that place, anyway?’
Victor shifted in the darkness, trying to make himself comfortable.
‘I don’t know,’ he confessed. ‘At first I thought it was a temple. And it looked as though people used it for watching moving pictures.’
‘But it looked hundreds of years old!’sat back.‘Now all we have to do is wait,’ he said.‘We’re in the hill, aren’t we?’ said Ginger’s voice in the darkness.‘Yes.’‘How did we get here?’‘I followed you.’‘I told you to stop me.’‘Yes, but then you tied me up.’‘I did no such thing!’‘You tied me up,’ repeated Victor. ‘And then you came here and opened the door and made a torch of some sort and went all the way into that ‑ that place. I dread to think of what you’d have done if I hadn’t woken you up.’There was a pause.‘I really did all that?’ said Ginger uncertainly.‘You really did.’‘But I don’t remember any of it!’‘I believe you. But you still did it.’
There was a canine grunt, a frantic kicking which showered Victor with gravel, and a small bark of triumph.
‘O’corse, he’s a bit skinnier’n me,’ said Gaspode, after a while.
‘Now you two run and fetch help,’ said Victor. ‘Er. We’ll wait here.’
He heard them disappear into the distance. Laddie’s faraway barking indicated that they had reached the outside air.
Victor ‘What ‑ what was that place, anyway?’
Victor shifted in the darkness, trying to make himself comfortable.
‘I don’t know,’ he confessed. ‘At first I thought it was a temple. And it looked as though people used it for watching moving pictures.’
‘But it looked hundreds of years old!’sat back.‘Now all we have to do is wait,’ he said.‘We’re in the hill, aren’t we?’ said Ginger’s voice in the darkness.‘Yes.’‘How did we get here?’‘I followed you.’‘I told you to stop me.’‘Yes, but then you tied me up.’‘I did no such thing!’‘You tied me up,’ repeated Victor. ‘And then you came here and opened the door and made a torch of some sort and went all the way into that ‑ that place. I dread to think of what you’d have done if I hadn’t woken you up.’There was a pause.‘I really did all that?’ said Ginger uncertainly.‘You really did.’‘But I don’t remember any of it!’‘I believe you. But you still did it.’
Friday, 27 March 2009
Gustav Klimt The Friends
Gustav Klimt The FriendsGustav Klimt The Beethoven FriezeGustav Klimt Sea SerpentsGustav Klimt Pear TreeGustav Klimt Fruit Trees
he doing that for?’ said Victor, suddenly feeling spooked. ‘All his hair is standing up. You don’t think he’s got oneheat of Holy Wood, and there was just the faint suspicion of vibration.
He ran his fingers over the surface. There was a roughness there, as though there had been a carving that had been worn into obscurity over the years.
‘A door like that,’ said Gaspode, behind him, ‘a door like that, if you want my opinion, a door like that, a door like that,’ he took a deep breath, ‘bodes.’
‘Hmm? What? Bodes what?’
‘It don’t have to bode anything,’ said Gaspode. ‘Just basic bodingness is bad enough, take of those mysterious animal premonitions of evil, do you?’ ‘I think he’s a pillock,’ said Gaspode. ‘Laddie shut up!’ There was a yelp. Laddie recoiled from the door, lost his balance on the shifting sand, and rolled down the slope. He leapt to his feet and started barking again; not ordinary stupid-dog barking this time, but the genuine treed-cat variety. Victor leaned forward and touched the door. It felt very cold, despite the perpetual
he doing that for?’ said Victor, suddenly feeling spooked. ‘All his hair is standing up. You don’t think he’s got oneheat of Holy Wood, and there was just the faint suspicion of vibration.
He ran his fingers over the surface. There was a roughness there, as though there had been a carving that had been worn into obscurity over the years.
‘A door like that,’ said Gaspode, behind him, ‘a door like that, if you want my opinion, a door like that, a door like that,’ he took a deep breath, ‘bodes.’
‘Hmm? What? Bodes what?’
‘It don’t have to bode anything,’ said Gaspode. ‘Just basic bodingness is bad enough, take of those mysterious animal premonitions of evil, do you?’ ‘I think he’s a pillock,’ said Gaspode. ‘Laddie shut up!’ There was a yelp. Laddie recoiled from the door, lost his balance on the shifting sand, and rolled down the slope. He leapt to his feet and started barking again; not ordinary stupid-dog barking this time, but the genuine treed-cat variety. Victor leaned forward and touched the door. It felt very cold, despite the perpetual
Thursday, 26 March 2009
John William Waterhouse Flora
John William Waterhouse FloraJohn William Waterhouse Circe offering the Cup to UlyssesJohn William Waterhouse BoreasJohn William Waterhouse AriadneJohn William Waterhouse A Mermaid
ain’t showing nothin’ about any special passionate swords. We’re showin’ The Exciting–’
‘Mister Dibbler says yore showing Sword of Passione,’ rumbled a voice.
Throat leaned against the doorway. Behind him was a slab of rock. It looked as though someone had been throwing steel balls at it for thirty years.
It creased in the colours. It showed a picture of what might just possibly be Ginger pouting in a blouse too small for her, and Victor in the act of throwing her over one shoulder while fighting an assortment of monsters with the other hand. In the background, volcanoes were erupting, dragons were zooming through the sky, and cities were burning down.
‘ "The Motione-Picture They Coud Not Banne!" ‘, read Bezam hesitantly. ‘ "A Scorching Adventure In the White-Hotte Dawne of A New Continont! A Mann and a Womann Throne Together inmiddle and leaned down towards Bezam. He recognized Detritus. Everyone recognized Detritus. He wasn’t a troll you forgot. ‘But I haven’t even heard of–’ Bezam began. Throat pulled a large tin from under his coat, and grinned. ‘And here are some posters,’ he added, producing a fat white roll. ‘Mister Dibbler let me stick some up on walls,’ said Detritus proudly. Bezam unrolled the poster. It was in eye-watering
ain’t showing nothin’ about any special passionate swords. We’re showin’ The Exciting–’
‘Mister Dibbler says yore showing Sword of Passione,’ rumbled a voice.
Throat leaned against the doorway. Behind him was a slab of rock. It looked as though someone had been throwing steel balls at it for thirty years.
It creased in the colours. It showed a picture of what might just possibly be Ginger pouting in a blouse too small for her, and Victor in the act of throwing her over one shoulder while fighting an assortment of monsters with the other hand. In the background, volcanoes were erupting, dragons were zooming through the sky, and cities were burning down.
‘ "The Motione-Picture They Coud Not Banne!" ‘, read Bezam hesitantly. ‘ "A Scorching Adventure In the White-Hotte Dawne of A New Continont! A Mann and a Womann Throne Together inmiddle and leaned down towards Bezam. He recognized Detritus. Everyone recognized Detritus. He wasn’t a troll you forgot. ‘But I haven’t even heard of–’ Bezam began. Throat pulled a large tin from under his coat, and grinned. ‘And here are some posters,’ he added, producing a fat white roll. ‘Mister Dibbler let me stick some up on walls,’ said Detritus proudly. Bezam unrolled the poster. It was in eye-watering
Wednesday, 25 March 2009
Vincent van Gogh Four Cut Sunflowers
Vincent van Gogh Four Cut SunflowersVincent van Gogh Fishing Boats on the BeachVincent van Gogh Cornfield with CypressesVincent van Gogh Cherry TreeLeroy Neiman Michael Jordan
of a skylark, which only made the silence more obvious.
Victor Tugelbend left the road at the point where the bank had been broken down and flattened by the passage of many knew that there was something that he had to be part of. Something that might never happen again.
Some way behind, but catching up fast, was Cut-me-own-Throat Dibbler, trying to ride a horse. He was not a natural horseman, and fell off occasionally, which was one reason why he hadn’t overtaken Victor yet. The other was that he had paused, before leaving the city, to sell his sausage-in-a-bun business cheaply to a dwarf who could not believe his luck (after actually trying some of the sausages, would still not be able to believe his luck). carts and, by the look of it, an increasing number of feet. There were still many miles to go. He trudged on. Somewhere at the back of his mind a tiny voice was saying things like ‘Where am I? Why am I doing this?’ and another part of him knew that he didn’t really have to do it at all. Like the hypnotist’s victim who knows they’re not really hypnotized and can snap out of it any time they like, but just happened not to feel like it right now, he let his feet be guided. He wasn’t certain why. He just
of a skylark, which only made the silence more obvious.
Victor Tugelbend left the road at the point where the bank had been broken down and flattened by the passage of many knew that there was something that he had to be part of. Something that might never happen again.
Some way behind, but catching up fast, was Cut-me-own-Throat Dibbler, trying to ride a horse. He was not a natural horseman, and fell off occasionally, which was one reason why he hadn’t overtaken Victor yet. The other was that he had paused, before leaving the city, to sell his sausage-in-a-bun business cheaply to a dwarf who could not believe his luck (after actually trying some of the sausages, would still not be able to believe his luck). carts and, by the look of it, an increasing number of feet. There were still many miles to go. He trudged on. Somewhere at the back of his mind a tiny voice was saying things like ‘Where am I? Why am I doing this?’ and another part of him knew that he didn’t really have to do it at all. Like the hypnotist’s victim who knows they’re not really hypnotized and can snap out of it any time they like, but just happened not to feel like it right now, he let his feet be guided. He wasn’t certain why. He just
Monday, 23 March 2009
Leonardo da Vinci St John the Baptist
Leonardo da Vinci St John the BaptistLeonardo da Vinci Madonna with YarnwinderLeonardo da Vinci Madonna LittaLeonardo da Vinci Female HeadLeonardo da Vinci Annunciation
'Anything broken?' he said quietly.
'Just bruised, I think.' The young architect sat up, wincing, and craned to see around.
'Where's Two-ay?' he said. 'He was higher up than me, nearly on the top-'
'I've foundspur to the development of camel intellect. Human mathematical development had always been held back by everyone's instinctive tendency, when faced with something really complex in the way of triform polynomials or parametric differentials, to count fingers. Camels started from the word go by counting numbers.
Deserts were a great help, too. There aren't many distr him,' said Ptaclusp. Architects are not known for their attention to subtle shades of meaning, but IIb heard the lead in his father's voice. 'He's not dead, is he?' he whispered. 'I don't think so. I'm not sure. He's alive. But. He's moving - he's moving . . . well, you better come and see. I think something quantum has happened to him.' You Bastard plodded onwards at about 1.247 metres per second, working out complex conjugate co-ordinates to stave off boredom while his huge, plate-like feet crunched on the sand. Lack of fingers was another big actions. As far as camels were concerned
'Anything broken?' he said quietly.
'Just bruised, I think.' The young architect sat up, wincing, and craned to see around.
'Where's Two-ay?' he said. 'He was higher up than me, nearly on the top-'
'I've foundspur to the development of camel intellect. Human mathematical development had always been held back by everyone's instinctive tendency, when faced with something really complex in the way of triform polynomials or parametric differentials, to count fingers. Camels started from the word go by counting numbers.
Deserts were a great help, too. There aren't many distr him,' said Ptaclusp. Architects are not known for their attention to subtle shades of meaning, but IIb heard the lead in his father's voice. 'He's not dead, is he?' he whispered. 'I don't think so. I'm not sure. He's alive. But. He's moving - he's moving . . . well, you better come and see. I think something quantum has happened to him.' You Bastard plodded onwards at about 1.247 metres per second, working out complex conjugate co-ordinates to stave off boredom while his huge, plate-like feet crunched on the sand. Lack of fingers was another big actions. As far as camels were concerned
Friday, 20 March 2009
Jack Vettriano Beautiful Dreamer 2001
Jack Vettriano Beautiful Dreamer 2001Jack Vettriano Bad, Bad BoysJack Vettriano Bad Boy, Good GirlJack Vettriano Bad Boy BluesJack Vettriano Back Where You Belong
which he'd stuffed his gloves, to give the impression of a head cautiously revealing itself against the light. He was confident that it would pick up a bolt or a dart, but it remained resolutely unattacked.
He was height. He drew the rod back, affixed a small hook on the end, sent it back, caught the wire, and tugged.
There came the dull smack of a crossbow bolt hitting old plaster.
A lump of clay on the end of the same rod, pushed gently across the floor, revealed several caltraps. Teppic hauled them back and inspected them with interest. They were copper. If he'd tried the magnet technique, which was the usual method, he wouldn't have found them.
He thought for a while. He had slip-on priests in his pouch. chilly now, despite the heat of the night. Black velvet looked good, but that was about all you could say for it. The excitement and the exertion meant he was now wearing several pints of clammy water. He advanced. There was a thin black wire on the window sill, and a serrated blade screwed to the sash window above it. It was the work of a moment to wedge the sash with more rods and then cut the wire; the window dropped a fraction of an inch. He grinned in the darkness. A sweep with a long rod inside the room revealed that there was a floor, apparently free of obstructions. There was also a wire at about chest
which he'd stuffed his gloves, to give the impression of a head cautiously revealing itself against the light. He was confident that it would pick up a bolt or a dart, but it remained resolutely unattacked.
He was height. He drew the rod back, affixed a small hook on the end, sent it back, caught the wire, and tugged.
There came the dull smack of a crossbow bolt hitting old plaster.
A lump of clay on the end of the same rod, pushed gently across the floor, revealed several caltraps. Teppic hauled them back and inspected them with interest. They were copper. If he'd tried the magnet technique, which was the usual method, he wouldn't have found them.
He thought for a while. He had slip-on priests in his pouch. chilly now, despite the heat of the night. Black velvet looked good, but that was about all you could say for it. The excitement and the exertion meant he was now wearing several pints of clammy water. He advanced. There was a thin black wire on the window sill, and a serrated blade screwed to the sash window above it. It was the work of a moment to wedge the sash with more rods and then cut the wire; the window dropped a fraction of an inch. He grinned in the darkness. A sweep with a long rod inside the room revealed that there was a floor, apparently free of obstructions. There was also a wire at about chest
Thursday, 19 March 2009
Thomas Moran Colburn's Butte, South Utah
Thomas Moran Colburn's Butte, South UtahThomas Moran Cliffs of the Upper Colorado riverThomas Moran Cliffs of Green RiverThomas Moran Autumn LandscapeThomas Moran Chicago World's Fair
That night the Fool slept on good royal flagstones in the whistling corridor above the Great Hall instead of the warm stuffy straw of the stables.
'This is foolish,' he told himself. 'Marry, but is it foolish enough!'
He dozed off fitfully, into some sort of dream where a vague figure kept trying to attract his attention, and was only dimly aware of the voices of Lord and Lady Felmet on the other side of the door.
'It's certainly a lot less draughtychild? He was given to the witches? Do they do human sacrifice?'
'It would appear not,' said the duke. The duchess looked vaguely disappointed.
'These witches,' said the duke. 'Apparently, they seem to cast a spell on people.'
'Well, obviously—'Wait, and consider. Patience is a virtue.' The duke sat back. The smile he smiled could have spent a million years sitting on a rock. And then, just below one eye, he started to twitch. Blood was oozing between the bandages on his hand.
Once again the full moon
That night the Fool slept on good royal flagstones in the whistling corridor above the Great Hall instead of the warm stuffy straw of the stables.
'This is foolish,' he told himself. 'Marry, but is it foolish enough!'
He dozed off fitfully, into some sort of dream where a vague figure kept trying to attract his attention, and was only dimly aware of the voices of Lord and Lady Felmet on the other side of the door.
'It's certainly a lot less draughtychild? He was given to the witches? Do they do human sacrifice?'
'It would appear not,' said the duke. The duchess looked vaguely disappointed.
'These witches,' said the duke. 'Apparently, they seem to cast a spell on people.'
'Well, obviously—'Wait, and consider. Patience is a virtue.' The duke sat back. The smile he smiled could have spent a million years sitting on a rock. And then, just below one eye, he started to twitch. Blood was oozing between the bandages on his hand.
Once again the full moon
Wednesday, 18 March 2009
Franz Marc Reh im Klostergarten
Franz Marc Reh im KlostergartenFranz Marc Pferd in LandschaftFranz Marc KüheFranz Marc Horse in a LandscapeFranz Marc Drei Katzen
The lattys toiled up the dusty slopes of the Ramtops, mere motes in the foggy glass of the crystal.
'Are they all right?' said Magrat.
They're wandering all over the place,' said Granny. 'They may be good at the acting, but they've got something to learn about the travelling.'
'It was a darkly.
'I did not! It was,' Granny fumbled for a word, 'a chuckle.'
'I bet Black Aliss used to cackle.'
'You want to watch out you don't end up the same way as she did,' said Nanny, from her seat by the fire. 'She went a bit funny at the finish, you know. Poisoned apples and suchlike.'
'Just because I might have chuckled a . . . a bit roughly,' sniffed Granny. She felt that she was being unduly defensive. 'Anyway, there's nothing wrong with cackling. In moderation.'nice jug,' said Magrat. 'You can't get them like that any more. I mean, if you'd have said what was on your mind, there was a flatiron on the shelf.''There's more to life than milk jugs.''It had a daisy pattern round the top.'Granny ignored her.'I think,' she said, 'it's time we had a look at this new king. Close up.' She cackled.'You cackled, Granny,' said Magrat
The lattys toiled up the dusty slopes of the Ramtops, mere motes in the foggy glass of the crystal.
'Are they all right?' said Magrat.
They're wandering all over the place,' said Granny. 'They may be good at the acting, but they've got something to learn about the travelling.'
'It was a darkly.
'I did not! It was,' Granny fumbled for a word, 'a chuckle.'
'I bet Black Aliss used to cackle.'
'You want to watch out you don't end up the same way as she did,' said Nanny, from her seat by the fire. 'She went a bit funny at the finish, you know. Poisoned apples and suchlike.'
'Just because I might have chuckled a . . . a bit roughly,' sniffed Granny. She felt that she was being unduly defensive. 'Anyway, there's nothing wrong with cackling. In moderation.'nice jug,' said Magrat. 'You can't get them like that any more. I mean, if you'd have said what was on your mind, there was a flatiron on the shelf.''There's more to life than milk jugs.''It had a daisy pattern round the top.'Granny ignored her.'I think,' she said, 'it's time we had a look at this new king. Close up.' She cackled.'You cackled, Granny,' said Magrat
Monday, 16 March 2009
Claude Monet Water-Lilies 1917
Claude Monet Water-Lilies 1917Claude Monet Water-Lilies 1914Claude Monet The Seine at Rouen IClaude Monet The Road Bridge at ArgenteuilClaude Monet The Bridge at Argenteuil
never do it,' she said. 'Not around the whole kingdom in that. That's all the way up to Powderknife and down to first he thought his new friend was taking him to Magrat's cottage, but for some reason he'd wandered off the path in the dark and was taking a stroll in the forest. In one of the more interesting bits, Greebo had always felt. It was a hummocky area, rich in hidden potholes and small, intense swamps, full of mist even in fine weather. Greebo often came up here on the offchance that a wolf was lying up for the day.
'I thought cats could find their own way home,' the Fool muttered.Drumlin's Fell. You just couldn't carry enough magic.''I've thought of that,' said Granny.She beamed again. It was terrifying.She explained the plan. It was dreadful.A minute later the moor was deserted, as the witches hurried to their tasks. It was silent for a while, apart from the squeak of bats and the occasional rustle of the wind in the heather.Then there was a bubbling from the nearby peat bog. Very slowly, crowned with a thicket of sphagnum moss, the standing stone surfaced and peered around the landscape with an air of deep distrust. Greebo was really enjoying this. At
never do it,' she said. 'Not around the whole kingdom in that. That's all the way up to Powderknife and down to first he thought his new friend was taking him to Magrat's cottage, but for some reason he'd wandered off the path in the dark and was taking a stroll in the forest. In one of the more interesting bits, Greebo had always felt. It was a hummocky area, rich in hidden potholes and small, intense swamps, full of mist even in fine weather. Greebo often came up here on the offchance that a wolf was lying up for the day.
'I thought cats could find their own way home,' the Fool muttered.Drumlin's Fell. You just couldn't carry enough magic.''I've thought of that,' said Granny.She beamed again. It was terrifying.She explained the plan. It was dreadful.A minute later the moor was deserted, as the witches hurried to their tasks. It was silent for a while, apart from the squeak of bats and the occasional rustle of the wind in the heather.Then there was a bubbling from the nearby peat bog. Very slowly, crowned with a thicket of sphagnum moss, the standing stone surfaced and peered around the landscape with an air of deep distrust. Greebo was really enjoying this. At
Sunday, 15 March 2009
Thomas Kinkade A Holiday Gathering
Thomas Kinkade A Holiday GatheringCaravaggio The Entombment of ChristCaravaggio Boy with a Basket of FruitBartolome Esteban Murillo AnnunciationWilliam Bouguereau The Song of the Angels
The ghost of King Verence prowled the battlements, bereft and hungry, and stared out across his beloved forests and waited his chance.
It was a winter of portents. Comets sparkled against the chilled skies at night. Clouds shaped mightily like whales and dragons drifted over the land by day. In the village of Razorback a cat gave birth to a two-headed kitten, but , which as it were lay across the Disc's vast magical standing wave like an iron bar dropped innocently across a pair of subway rails, were so saturated with magic that it was constantly discharging itself into the environment. People would wake up in the middle of the night, mutter, 'Oh, it's just another bloody portent', and go back to sleep.since Greebo, by dint of considerable effort, was every male ancestor for the last thirty generations this probably wasn't all that portentous.However, in Bad Ass a cockerel laid an egg and had to put up with some very embarrassing personal questions. In Lancre town a man swore he'd met a man who had actually seen with his own eyes a tree get up and walk. There was a short sharp shower of shrimps. There were odd lights in the sky. Geese walked backwards. Above all of this flared the great curtains of cold fire that were the Aurora Coriolis, the Hublights, whose frosty tints illuminated and coloured the midnight snows.There was nothing the least unusual about any of this. The Ramtops
The ghost of King Verence prowled the battlements, bereft and hungry, and stared out across his beloved forests and waited his chance.
It was a winter of portents. Comets sparkled against the chilled skies at night. Clouds shaped mightily like whales and dragons drifted over the land by day. In the village of Razorback a cat gave birth to a two-headed kitten, but , which as it were lay across the Disc's vast magical standing wave like an iron bar dropped innocently across a pair of subway rails, were so saturated with magic that it was constantly discharging itself into the environment. People would wake up in the middle of the night, mutter, 'Oh, it's just another bloody portent', and go back to sleep.since Greebo, by dint of considerable effort, was every male ancestor for the last thirty generations this probably wasn't all that portentous.However, in Bad Ass a cockerel laid an egg and had to put up with some very embarrassing personal questions. In Lancre town a man swore he'd met a man who had actually seen with his own eyes a tree get up and walk. There was a short sharp shower of shrimps. There were odd lights in the sky. Geese walked backwards. Above all of this flared the great curtains of cold fire that were the Aurora Coriolis, the Hublights, whose frosty tints illuminated and coloured the midnight snows.There was nothing the least unusual about any of this. The Ramtops
Friday, 13 March 2009
Camille Pissarro The Chestnut Trees at Osny
Camille Pissarro The Chestnut Trees at OsnyCamille Pissarro Rue de Louveciennes 1872Camille Pissarro Pissarro Hyde Park
last he found what he was searching for. It was a doorway edged in octarine light, leading to a short tunnel. There were figures at the other end, beckoning to him.
I COME, he said, and then turned as he heard the sudden noise behind him. Eleven stone of young womanhood hit him squarely in the chest, lifting him off the ground.
Mort landed before she dropped like a stone down a well made of blue light.
I COMMAND YOU. Mort's voice could have cut holes in rock.
'Father tried that tone on me for years,' she said calmly. 'Generally when he wanted me to clean my bedroom. It didn't work then, either.'with Ysabell kneeling on him, holding on grimly to his arms.LET ME GO, he intoned. I HAVE BEEN SUMMONED.'Not you, idiot!'She stared into the blue, pupil-less pools of his eyes. It was like looking down a rushing tunnel.Mort arched his back and screamed a curse so ancient and virulent that in the strong magical field it actually took on a form, flapped its leathery wings and slunk away. A private thunderstorm crashed around the sand dunes.His eyes drew her again. She looked away
last he found what he was searching for. It was a doorway edged in octarine light, leading to a short tunnel. There were figures at the other end, beckoning to him.
I COME, he said, and then turned as he heard the sudden noise behind him. Eleven stone of young womanhood hit him squarely in the chest, lifting him off the ground.
Mort landed before she dropped like a stone down a well made of blue light.
I COMMAND YOU. Mort's voice could have cut holes in rock.
'Father tried that tone on me for years,' she said calmly. 'Generally when he wanted me to clean my bedroom. It didn't work then, either.'with Ysabell kneeling on him, holding on grimly to his arms.LET ME GO, he intoned. I HAVE BEEN SUMMONED.'Not you, idiot!'She stared into the blue, pupil-less pools of his eyes. It was like looking down a rushing tunnel.Mort arched his back and screamed a curse so ancient and virulent that in the strong magical field it actually took on a form, flapped its leathery wings and slunk away. A private thunderstorm crashed around the sand dunes.His eyes drew her again. She looked away
Thursday, 12 March 2009
George Frederick Watts The Recording Angel
George Frederick Watts The Recording AngelGeorge Frederick Watts She shall be called womanGeorge Frederick Watts Creation
special exercises —'
Keli drummed her fingers on the table, or tried to. It turned out to be difficult. She stared down in vague horror.
Cutwell hurried forward and wiped the table with his sleeve.
'Sorry,' he muttered, 'I had treacle sandwiches for supper last night.'
'What can I do?'
. You'll just have to accept it.'
He gave an apologetic grin. 'You're a lot luckier than most dead people, if you look at it objectively,' he said. 'You're alive to enjoy it.'
'I don't want to accept it. Why should I accept it? It's not my fault!'
'You don't understand. History is moving on. You can't get involved in it any more. There isn't a part in it for you, don't you see? Best to let things take their course.' He patted her 'Nothing.''Nothing?''Well, you could certainly become a very successful burglar . . . sorry. That was tasteless of me.''I thought so.'Cutwell patted her ineptly on the hand, and Keli was too preoccupied even to notice such flagrant lesè majesté.'You see, everything's fixed. History is all worked out, from start to finish. What the facts actually are is beside the point; history just rolls straight over the top of them. You can't change anything because the changes are already part of it. You're dead. It's fated
special exercises —'
Keli drummed her fingers on the table, or tried to. It turned out to be difficult. She stared down in vague horror.
Cutwell hurried forward and wiped the table with his sleeve.
'Sorry,' he muttered, 'I had treacle sandwiches for supper last night.'
'What can I do?'
. You'll just have to accept it.'
He gave an apologetic grin. 'You're a lot luckier than most dead people, if you look at it objectively,' he said. 'You're alive to enjoy it.'
'I don't want to accept it. Why should I accept it? It's not my fault!'
'You don't understand. History is moving on. You can't get involved in it any more. There isn't a part in it for you, don't you see? Best to let things take their course.' He patted her 'Nothing.''Nothing?''Well, you could certainly become a very successful burglar . . . sorry. That was tasteless of me.''I thought so.'Cutwell patted her ineptly on the hand, and Keli was too preoccupied even to notice such flagrant lesè majesté.'You see, everything's fixed. History is all worked out, from start to finish. What the facts actually are is beside the point; history just rolls straight over the top of them. You can't change anything because the changes are already part of it. You're dead. It's fated
Wednesday, 11 March 2009
Pierre Auguste Renoir A Girl with a Watering Can
Pierre Auguste Renoir A Girl with a Watering CanPierre Auguste Renoir La LogeEdward Hopper Gas
With the latest portable PCs, working on the move has never been easier, but laptops are still slaves to the National of mobile moans, it's possible to get significant improvements by simple good practice and a few software tweaks. To help you get the most from your laptop battery, here are seven easy ways to make it last longer.
1. Dim your screen
The screen is one of the most power-hungry parts of the laptop. It takes serious amounts of battery power to keep your display looking clear and bright. Saving this power is simply a question of turning the brightness down. The screen brightness button is usually located as a second function of one of the F keys, Grid.You can do practically anything on a modern laptop, but their advanced features drain battery life to the extent that you can only get a couple of hours out of your laptop before it turns up its toes.While battery life is a chief cause
With the latest portable PCs, working on the move has never been easier, but laptops are still slaves to the National of mobile moans, it's possible to get significant improvements by simple good practice and a few software tweaks. To help you get the most from your laptop battery, here are seven easy ways to make it last longer.
1. Dim your screen
The screen is one of the most power-hungry parts of the laptop. It takes serious amounts of battery power to keep your display looking clear and bright. Saving this power is simply a question of turning the brightness down. The screen brightness button is usually located as a second function of one of the F keys, Grid.You can do practically anything on a modern laptop, but their advanced features drain battery life to the extent that you can only get a couple of hours out of your laptop before it turns up its toes.While battery life is a chief cause
Monday, 9 March 2009
Juan Gris The Guitar
Juan Gris The GuitarJuan Gris BreakfastGeorge Bellows Stag at Sharkey's
difference .
. . . Do I want to be remembered as the first Archchancellor to allow women into the University? Still . . . I'd be remembered, that's for sure .
. . . She really is a rather impressive woman when she stands in that sort of way .
. . . That staff has got ideas of its own .
. . . There's a sort of sense to it .
. . . I would be laughed at .
. . . It might not work .
. . . It might work.
She couldn't trust them. But she had no choice.
Esk stared at the terrible faces peering down at her, and the lanky bodies, mercifully cloaked.
Her hands "Pardon?" said Esk.
"Use the staff," said Simon urgently, and reached out for it. "Hey! It bit me!"tingled. In the shadow-world, ideas are real. The thought seemed to travel up her arms. It was a buoyant sort of thought, a thought full of fizz. She laughed, and moved her hands apart, and the staff sparkled in her hands like solid electricity. The Things started to chitter nervously and one or two at the back started to lurch away. Simon fell forward as his captors hastily let go, and he landed on his hands and knees in the sand. "Use it!" he shouted. "That's it! They're frightened!" Esk gave him a smile, and continued to examine the staff. For the first time she could see what the carvings actually were. Simon snatched up the pyramid of the world and ran towards her. "Come on!" he said. "They hate it!"
"Sorry," said Esk. "What were we talking about?" She looked up and regarded
difference .
. . . Do I want to be remembered as the first Archchancellor to allow women into the University? Still . . . I'd be remembered, that's for sure .
. . . She really is a rather impressive woman when she stands in that sort of way .
. . . That staff has got ideas of its own .
. . . There's a sort of sense to it .
. . . I would be laughed at .
. . . It might not work .
. . . It might work.
She couldn't trust them. But she had no choice.
Esk stared at the terrible faces peering down at her, and the lanky bodies, mercifully cloaked.
Her hands "Pardon?" said Esk.
"Use the staff," said Simon urgently, and reached out for it. "Hey! It bit me!"tingled. In the shadow-world, ideas are real. The thought seemed to travel up her arms. It was a buoyant sort of thought, a thought full of fizz. She laughed, and moved her hands apart, and the staff sparkled in her hands like solid electricity. The Things started to chitter nervously and one or two at the back started to lurch away. Simon fell forward as his captors hastily let go, and he landed on his hands and knees in the sand. "Use it!" he shouted. "That's it! They're frightened!" Esk gave him a smile, and continued to examine the staff. For the first time she could see what the carvings actually were. Simon snatched up the pyramid of the world and ran towards her. "Come on!" he said. "They hate it!"
"Sorry," said Esk. "What were we talking about?" She looked up and regarded
Thomas Kinkade Seaside Village
Thomas Kinkade Seaside VillageThomas Kinkade Bridge of HopeEdward Hopper Summertime
at Granny again, "- I mean, we thought - Treatle told us -"
"Oook," said the librarian, shooing some pages back between their covers.
"Where are as he scurried between the toiling wizards, most of whom stopped working to stare as Granny strode past.
"This is getting embarrassing," said Cutangle, out of the corner of his mouth. "I shall have to declare you an honorary wizard."
Granny stared straight ahead and her lips hardly moved.
"You do," she hissed, "and I will declare you an honorary witch."
Paul Gauguin Hail Mary
Paul Gauguin Hail MaryHenri Matisse Woman with a HatHenri Matisse The Window
Give me that staff!"
Esk reached down behind her and gripped the polished wood. "No," she said. "It's mine."
"It's not the right sort of thing for little girls," snapped the barman's wife.
"It belongs to me," said Esk, and quietly closed the door. She listened for a moment to the muttering from below and tried of streets, the fragrance of garden flowers, the distant hint of an overloaded privy. There were wet tiles outside.
As Skiller started back up the stairs she pushed the staff out on to the roof and crawled after it, steadying herself on the carvings above the window. The roof dipped down to an outhouse and she managed to stay at least vaguely upright as she half-slid, half-scrambled down the uneven to think of what to do next. Turning the couple into something would probably only cause a fuss and, anyway, she wasn't quite certain how to do it. The fact was the magic only really worked when she wasn't thinking about it. Her mind seemed to get in the way. She padded across the room and pushed open the tiny window. The strange night-time smells of civilization drifted in - the damp smell
Give me that staff!"
Esk reached down behind her and gripped the polished wood. "No," she said. "It's mine."
"It's not the right sort of thing for little girls," snapped the barman's wife.
"It belongs to me," said Esk, and quietly closed the door. She listened for a moment to the muttering from below and tried of streets, the fragrance of garden flowers, the distant hint of an overloaded privy. There were wet tiles outside.
As Skiller started back up the stairs she pushed the staff out on to the roof and crawled after it, steadying herself on the carvings above the window. The roof dipped down to an outhouse and she managed to stay at least vaguely upright as she half-slid, half-scrambled down the uneven to think of what to do next. Turning the couple into something would probably only cause a fuss and, anyway, she wasn't quite certain how to do it. The fact was the magic only really worked when she wasn't thinking about it. Her mind seemed to get in the way. She padded across the room and pushed open the tiny window. The strange night-time smells of civilization drifted in - the damp smell
Thursday, 5 March 2009
Leonardo da Vinci Madonna with Yarnwinder
Leonardo da Vinci Madonna with YarnwinderLeonardo da Vinci Madonna LittaLeonardo da Vinci Female Head
picked it up and thumbed idly through its pages. They were thick with complex and swirling script that changed and reformed even as he looked at it. It seemed undecided as to what it should be; one moment it was an orderly, matter-of-fact printing; the next a series of angular runes. Then it would be curly Kythian spellscript. Then it would be pictograms in some ancient, evil and forgotten writing that seemed to consist words. They were runes again. He was glad about that, the reptilian pictures were not only unspeakable but probably unpronounceable too, and reminded him of things he would have great difficulty in forgetting.exclusively of unpleasant reptilian beings doing complicated and painful things to one another . . .The last page was empty. Rincewind sighed, and looked in the back of his mind. The Spell looked back.He had dreamed of this moment, how he would finally evict the Spell and take vacant possession of his own head and learn all those lesser spells which had, up until hen, been too frightened to stay in his mind. Somehow he had expected it to be far more exciting.Instead, in utter exhaustion and in a mood to brook no argument, he stared coldly at the Spell and jerked a metaphorical thumb over his shoulder. You. Out.It looked for a moment as though the Spell was going to argue, but it wisely thought better of it.There was a tingling sensation, a blue flash behind his eyes, and a sudden feeling of emptiness.When he looked down at the page it was full of
picked it up and thumbed idly through its pages. They were thick with complex and swirling script that changed and reformed even as he looked at it. It seemed undecided as to what it should be; one moment it was an orderly, matter-of-fact printing; the next a series of angular runes. Then it would be curly Kythian spellscript. Then it would be pictograms in some ancient, evil and forgotten writing that seemed to consist words. They were runes again. He was glad about that, the reptilian pictures were not only unspeakable but probably unpronounceable too, and reminded him of things he would have great difficulty in forgetting.exclusively of unpleasant reptilian beings doing complicated and painful things to one another . . .The last page was empty. Rincewind sighed, and looked in the back of his mind. The Spell looked back.He had dreamed of this moment, how he would finally evict the Spell and take vacant possession of his own head and learn all those lesser spells which had, up until hen, been too frightened to stay in his mind. Somehow he had expected it to be far more exciting.Instead, in utter exhaustion and in a mood to brook no argument, he stared coldly at the Spell and jerked a metaphorical thumb over his shoulder. You. Out.It looked for a moment as though the Spell was going to argue, but it wisely thought better of it.There was a tingling sensation, a blue flash behind his eyes, and a sudden feeling of emptiness.When he looked down at the page it was full of
Thomas Moran Zion Valley, South Utah
Thomas Moran Zion Valley, South UtahThomas Moran The Wilds of Lake SuperiorThomas Moran Sunset on the MoorThomas Moran Moonlit Seascape
, am I?' he muttered. 'When I'm advanced in the craft, eh? I just managed to go around with one of the Great Spells in my head for years without going totally insane, didn't I?' He considered the last question from all angles. Yes, you did,' he reassured himself. 'You didn't start talking to trees, even when trees started talking to you.'
His head emerged into the sultry air at the top of the tower.
He had expected to see fire-blackened stones criss-crossed with talon marks, or perhaps something even worse.
difficult thing Rincewind did in his at Trymon without running in terror or being very violently sick.
The others didn't seem to have noticed.
They also seemed to be standing very still.Instead he saw the seven senior wizards standing by Trymon, who seemed totally unscathed. He turned and smiled pleasantly at Rincewind.'Ah, Rincewind. Come and join us, won't you?'So this is it, Rincewind thought. All that drama for nothing. Maybe I really am not cut out to be a wizard, maybe —He looked up and into Trymon's eyes.Perhaps it was the Spell, in its years of living in Rincewind's head, that had affected his eyes. Perhaps his time with Twoflower, who only saw things as they ought to be, had taught him to see things as they are.But what was certain was that by far the most
, am I?' he muttered. 'When I'm advanced in the craft, eh? I just managed to go around with one of the Great Spells in my head for years without going totally insane, didn't I?' He considered the last question from all angles. Yes, you did,' he reassured himself. 'You didn't start talking to trees, even when trees started talking to you.'
His head emerged into the sultry air at the top of the tower.
He had expected to see fire-blackened stones criss-crossed with talon marks, or perhaps something even worse.
difficult thing Rincewind did in his at Trymon without running in terror or being very violently sick.
The others didn't seem to have noticed.
They also seemed to be standing very still.Instead he saw the seven senior wizards standing by Trymon, who seemed totally unscathed. He turned and smiled pleasantly at Rincewind.'Ah, Rincewind. Come and join us, won't you?'So this is it, Rincewind thought. All that drama for nothing. Maybe I really am not cut out to be a wizard, maybe —He looked up and into Trymon's eyes.Perhaps it was the Spell, in its years of living in Rincewind's head, that had affected his eyes. Perhaps his time with Twoflower, who only saw things as they ought to be, had taught him to see things as they are.But what was certain was that by far the most
Tuesday, 3 March 2009
Jack Vettriano Beautiful Dreamer 2001
Jack Vettriano Beautiful Dreamer 2001Jack Vettriano Along Came A Spider
Jack Vettriano Yesterday's DreamsJack Vettriano Union Jack
one minute he was a troll, the next he was an ornamental fireplace.'
They paused in front of a familiar-looking cliff. The scuffed remains of a fire smouldered in the darkness.
'It looks like there's been a fight,' said Beryl.
'They're all gone!' said Rincewind. He ran to the end of the clearing. 'The horses, too! Even the Luggage!'
'One of them's leaked,' said Kwartz, kneeling down. 'That red watery stuff you have in your insides. Look.'
'Blood!.
'That's it. They haven't done that, because they're not here.'
'Unless they were eaten!' suggested Jasper excitedly.
'Hmm,' said Kwartz, and, 'Wolves?' said Rincewind.
'We flattened all the wolves around here years ago,' said the troll. 'Old Grandad did, anyway.'
'He didn't like them?'''Is that what it's called? I've never really seen the point of it.'Rincewind scuttled about in the manner of one totally at his wits' end, peering behind bushes in case anyone was hiding there. That was why he tripped over a small green bottle.'Cohen's linament!' he moaned. 'He never goes anywhere without it!''Well,' said Kwartz, 'you humans have something you can do, I mean like when we slow right down and catch you just fall to bits —''Dying, it's called!' screamed Rincewind
Jack Vettriano Yesterday's DreamsJack Vettriano Union Jack
one minute he was a troll, the next he was an ornamental fireplace.'
They paused in front of a familiar-looking cliff. The scuffed remains of a fire smouldered in the darkness.
'It looks like there's been a fight,' said Beryl.
'They're all gone!' said Rincewind. He ran to the end of the clearing. 'The horses, too! Even the Luggage!'
'One of them's leaked,' said Kwartz, kneeling down. 'That red watery stuff you have in your insides. Look.'
'Blood!.
'That's it. They haven't done that, because they're not here.'
'Unless they were eaten!' suggested Jasper excitedly.
'Hmm,' said Kwartz, and, 'Wolves?' said Rincewind.
'We flattened all the wolves around here years ago,' said the troll. 'Old Grandad did, anyway.'
'He didn't like them?'''Is that what it's called? I've never really seen the point of it.'Rincewind scuttled about in the manner of one totally at his wits' end, peering behind bushes in case anyone was hiding there. That was why he tripped over a small green bottle.'Cohen's linament!' he moaned. 'He never goes anywhere without it!''Well,' said Kwartz, 'you humans have something you can do, I mean like when we slow right down and catch you just fall to bits —''Dying, it's called!' screamed Rincewind
Monday, 2 March 2009
Edward Hopper El Palacio
Edward Hopper El PalacioEdward Hopper Dawn In PennsylvaniaEdward Hopper Cape Cod AfternoonLeroy Neiman Ryder Cup
looked up the horrible box was still there.
'Goodbye,' he said, and ran. He managed to get through the door just in time.
'Rincewind?'
Rincewind opened his eyes. Not that it helped much. It just meant that instead of seeing nothing but blackness he saw nothing but whiteness which, surprisingly, was worse.
'Are you all right?'
'No.'
'Ah.'
Rincewind sat up. He appeared to be on a rock speckled with snow, but it didn't seem to be everything a rock ought to be. For example, it shouldn't be moving.
Snow blew around him. Twoflower was a few feet away, a look of genuine concern on his face.
Rincewind groaned. His bones were very angry at the treatment they had recently received and were queuing up to complain.
'What now?' he ran his hands over it, and felt the scoring of chisels. When he put an ear to the cold wet stone he fancied he could hear a dull, slow thumping, like a heartbeat. He crawled forward until he came to an edge, and peered very cautiously over it.
At that moment the rock must have been passing over a break in the clouds, bsaid.You know when we were flying and I was worried we might hit something in the storm and you said the only thing we could possibly hit at this height was a cloud stuffed with rocks?''Well?''How did you know?'Rincewind looked around, but for all the variety and interest in the scene around him they might as well have been in the inside of a pingpong ball.The rock underneath was – well, rocking. Heecause he caught a dim but horribly distant view of jagged-edged mountain peaks.
looked up the horrible box was still there.
'Goodbye,' he said, and ran. He managed to get through the door just in time.
'Rincewind?'
Rincewind opened his eyes. Not that it helped much. It just meant that instead of seeing nothing but blackness he saw nothing but whiteness which, surprisingly, was worse.
'Are you all right?'
'No.'
'Ah.'
Rincewind sat up. He appeared to be on a rock speckled with snow, but it didn't seem to be everything a rock ought to be. For example, it shouldn't be moving.
Snow blew around him. Twoflower was a few feet away, a look of genuine concern on his face.
Rincewind groaned. His bones were very angry at the treatment they had recently received and were queuing up to complain.
'What now?' he ran his hands over it, and felt the scoring of chisels. When he put an ear to the cold wet stone he fancied he could hear a dull, slow thumping, like a heartbeat. He crawled forward until he came to an edge, and peered very cautiously over it.
At that moment the rock must have been passing over a break in the clouds, bsaid.You know when we were flying and I was worried we might hit something in the storm and you said the only thing we could possibly hit at this height was a cloud stuffed with rocks?''Well?''How did you know?'Rincewind looked around, but for all the variety and interest in the scene around him they might as well have been in the inside of a pingpong ball.The rock underneath was – well, rocking. Heecause he caught a dim but horribly distant view of jagged-edged mountain peaks.
Sunday, 1 March 2009
Juan Gris Teacups
Juan Gris TeacupsJuan Gris Portrait of Josette GrisJuan Gris Pears and Grapes on a TableJuan Gris Guitar with Clarinet
one of his eyes, which rang faintly, "when I built the golem army for Pitchiu he loaded me down with gold and then, so that I would create no other work to rival my work for him, he had my eyes put out."
"Wise butthese eyes, but I cannot make them see.
"Next I was summoned to build the Palace of the Seven Deserts, as a result of which the Emir showered me with silver and then, not entirely to my surprise, had my right hand cut off."
"A grave hindrance in your line of Business," nodded the Arch-astronomer.
"I used some of the silver to make myself this new hand, putting to use my unrivalled knowledge of cruel," said the Arch-astronomer sympathetically."Yah. So I learned to hear the temper of metals and to see with my fingers. I learned how to distinguish ores by taste and smell. I made
one of his eyes, which rang faintly, "when I built the golem army for Pitchiu he loaded me down with gold and then, so that I would create no other work to rival my work for him, he had my eyes put out."
"Wise butthese eyes, but I cannot make them see.
"Next I was summoned to build the Palace of the Seven Deserts, as a result of which the Emir showered me with silver and then, not entirely to my surprise, had my right hand cut off."
"A grave hindrance in your line of Business," nodded the Arch-astronomer.
"I used some of the silver to make myself this new hand, putting to use my unrivalled knowledge of cruel," said the Arch-astronomer sympathetically."Yah. So I learned to hear the temper of metals and to see with my fingers. I learned how to distinguish ores by taste and smell. I made
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