Tamara de Lempicka La bella Rafaela

Tamara de Lempicka La bella RafaelaTamara de Lempicka Girl in a Green DressTamara de Lempicka Calla LiliesRaphael Madonna and Child with Book
well. At least there'd been witnesses.
He walked to the edge of the roof, and peered over.
'Hello, there,' he said. He blinked. It was six storeys down, and not a sight to look at on a recently emptied stomach.
'Er . . . could you come up here, please?' he said.
' 'Ight oo are.'
Vimes Vimes' lips moved as he mentally inserted all those sounds unobtainable to a creature whose mouth was stuck permanently open. Cornice-overlooking-Broad-way. A gargoyle's personal identity was intimately bound up with its normal location, like a limpet.
'Well now, Cornice,' he said, 'do you know who I am?'
'Oh,' said the gargoyle sullenly.stood back. There was a scrape of stone and a gargoyle pulled itself laboriously over the parapet, moving like a cheap stop-motion animation.He didn't know much about gargoyles. Carrot had said something once about how marvellous it was, an urban troll species that had evolved a symbiotic relationship with gutters, and he had admired the way they funnelled run-off water into their ears and out through fine sieves in their mouths. They were probably the strangest species on the Discdidn't get many birds nesting on buildings colonized by gargoyles, and bats tended to fly around them.'What's your name, friend?'' 'ornice-oggerooking-Oardway.'

Edward Hopper Summer Interior

Edward Hopper Summer InteriorEdward Hopper SailingEdward Hopper Ryder's HouseEdward Hopper Railroad Train
door slammed in his face.
'Right,' said Vimes.
'Captain, why
The clang of the big corroded Inhumation Bell echoed through the Assassins' Guild. Black-clad figures came running from all directions, pushing and shoving in their haste to get to the courtyard.
The Guild council, assembled hurriedly outside Dr Cruces' office. His deputy, Mr Downey, knocked tentatively at the door.
'Come.'
The council filed in.—?' Carrot began. Vimes held up a hand.'That wraps it up, then,' he said, slightly louder than necessary. 'Nothing to worry about. Let's get back to the Yard. Where's Lance-Constable Whatshername?''Here, captain,' said Angua, stepping out of the alley.'Hiding, eh? And what's that?''Woof woof whine whine.''It's a little dog, captain.''Good grief.'

Pop art guitar player

Pop art guitar playerPop art elvisPop art coltrane on rustPop art Bruce Springsteen - The BOSSPop art booker t & the mgs on green
Terry Pratehett
“What?”
“I mean that somewhere Mustrum Ridcully married Esmerelda Weather-wax and they lived—“ Granny gritted her teeth “—lived happily ever after. More or less. As much as anyone does.”
“How d’you know?”
“I’ve been On a summer night, with couples going their own ways,
L and silky purple twilight growing between the trees. From
d the castle, long after the celebrations had ended, faint laugh-
ter and the ringing of little silver bells. And from the empty hillside, only the silence of the elvpicking up bits of her memories. She seemed happy enough. And I ain’t easily pleased.”“How can you do that?”“I try to be good at everything I do.”“Did she say anything about—““She didn’t say nothing! She don’t know we exist! Don’t ask questions! It’s enough to know that everything happens somewhere, isn’t it?”Ridcully tried to grin.“Is that the best you can tell me?” he said.“It’s the best there is. Or the next best thing.”Where does it end?*es.

George Bellows Dempsey and Firpo

George Bellows Dempsey and FirpoCaravaggio The Sacrifice of IsaacCaravaggio The Musicians
you coming all the way up the track,” said the elf. “The brave girl off to rescue her lover! Oh, the romance! Take her.”
A shadow rose up behind the two armed elves, took a head in either hand, and banged them together.
The shadow stepped forward over their bodies and, as Lankin turned, caught it with one roundarm punch that picked it up and slammed it into a tree.
Magrat drew her“I could get him to have a bath, if you like,” said Ponder, slightly hysterically. “He always puts on an old green dress-ing gown when he’s had a bath.”
Magrat relaxed a bit. No one who sounded like that could be much of a threat, except to themselves.
“Whose side are you on, Mr. Wizard?” sword.Whatever this was, it looked worse than elves. It was muddy and hairy and almost troll-like in its build, and it reached out for the bridle with an arm that seemed to extend for ever. She raised the sword—“Oook?”“Put the sword down, please, miss!”260LOR06 ft/YD LftO/ESThe voice came from somewhere behind her, but it sounded human and worried. Elves never sounded worried.“Who are you?” she said, without turning around. The monster in front of her gave her a big, yellow-toothed grin.“Um, I’m Ponder Stibbons. A wizard. And he’s a wizard, too.”“He’s got no clothes on!”

William Beard Majestic Stag

William Beard Majestic StagWilliam Beard Dancing BearsAndy Warhol Shot Orange Marilyn 1964
they’re right above us. How’s those magic fingers of yours?”
“I could probably manage a fireball.”
“Wouldn’t work. Can you carry us out of here?”
“Not both of us.”
“Just you?”
“Probably, but I’m not going to leave you.”
Granny rolled her eyes. “It’s true, you know,” she said. “All men are swains. Push off, you soft old bugger. They’re not intending to kill me. At least, not yet. But they don’t hardly know nothing about wizards and they’ll chop you down without thinking.”
“Now who’s had my
crossbow—“being soft?”“I don’t want to see you dead when you could be doin’ something useful.”“Running away isn’t useful.”“It’s going to be a lot more useful than staying here.”“I’d never forgive myself if I went.”“And I’d never forgive you if you stayed, and I’m a lot more unforgiving than you are,” said Granny. “When it’s all over, try to find Gytha Ogg. Tell her to look in my old box.She’ll know what’s in there. And if you don’t go now—“An arrow hit the stump beside Ridcully.“The buggers are firing at me!” he shouted. “If I“Right! I’ll be back instantly!”
Ridcully vanished. A moment later

Bernhard Gutmann Study of a Woman in Black

Bernhard Gutmann Study of a Woman in BlackBernhard Gutmann Nude with DraperyPaul Klee The Rose GardenPaul Klee Red Ballon
were hung there. Moths were kept away by the draught from the hole and .. . the smell.
Magrat had put her foot down about that, at least.
Now she lay the third cousin of an earl. What the pictures on shields meant, all those lions passant and regardant. And the clothes weren’t getting any better. Magrat had drawn the line at a wimple, and she wasn’t at all happy about the big pointy hat with the scarf dangling from it. It probably looked beautiful on the Lady of Shallot, but on Magrat it looked as though someone had dropped a big ice cream on her neck.
Nanny Ogg sat in front of her fire in her dressing gown,
smoking her pipe and idly cutting her toenails. There was
l Really tme. That’s why people stand aside when kings go past.in bed and stared at the ceiling.Of course she wanted to marry Verence, even with his weak chin and slightly runny eyes. In the pit of the night Magrat knew that she was in no position to be choosy, and getting a king in the circumstances was a stroke of luck.It was just that she had preferred him when he’d been a Fool. There’s something about a man who tinkles gently as he moves.It was just that she could see a future of bad tapestry and sitting looking wistfully out of the window.It was just that she was fed up with books of etiquette and lineage and Twurp’s Peerage of the Fifteen Mountains and the Sto Plains.You had to know this kind of thing, to be a queen. There were books full of the stuff in the Long Gallery, and she hadn’t even explored the far end. How to address

Vincent van Gogh The Plain at Auvers

Vincent van Gogh The Plain at AuversVincent van Gogh The Night Cafe in the Place Lamartine in ArlesVincent van Gogh The good Samaritan DelacroixVincent van Gogh A Novel Reader
a crossroads; the white dust glowed very faintly in the moonlight. One way led into Lancre, where Nanny Ogg lived. Another eventually got lost in the forest, became a footpath, then a track, and eventually reached Granny Weatherwax’s cottage.
“When shall we ... two . . . meet again?” said Nanny
Ogg.
“Listen,” said Granny Weatherwax. “She’s well out of it, d’you hear? She’ll be a lot happier as a queen!”
“I never said nothing,” said Nanny Ogg mildly.
“I know you never! I could hear you not saying any-thing! You’ve got the loudest silences I ever did hear from anyone who wasn’t dead!”
“See you about eleven o’clock, then?”
“Right!”
The wind got up again as Granny walked along the track to her cottage.
She knew she was on edge. There was just too much to do. She’d got Magrat sorted out, and Nanny could look after herself, but the Lords Terry Pratehett
what it was that you suddenly saw looming up. And what it turned out to be was a blankness.
People think that they live life as a moving dot traveling from the Past into the Future, with memory streaming out behind them like some kind of mental cometary tail. But memory spreads out in front as well as behind. It’s jusand the Ladies ... she hadn’t counted on them.The point was . ..The point was that Granny Weatherwax had a feeling she was going to die. This was beginning to get on her nerves.Knowing the time of your death is one of those strange bonuses that comes with being a true magic user. And, on the whole, it (‘s a bonus.Many a wizard has passed away happily drinking the last , of his wine cellar and incidentally owing very large sums of money.Granny Weatherwax had always wondered how it felt,69t that most humans aren’t good at dealing with it, and so it arrives as premonitions, forebodings, intuitions

Mark Spain Carmen

Mark Spain CarmenMark Spain Burning DesireMark Spain Blue Dress On Gold
Or would have done. If he had been there. But he wasn't. So he couldn't.
[4] It takes forty men with their feet on the ground to keep one man with his head in the air.
[5] Words are thehad let goats graze everywhere. Nothing makes a desert like a goat.
[8] But not enough.
[9] Like many early thinkers, the Ephebians believed that thoughts originated in the heart and that the brain was merely a device to cool the blood.
[10] Fasta Benj's people had no word for war, since they had no one to fight and life was quite tough enough as it was. P'Tang-P'tang's words had arrived as: "remember when Pacha Moj hit his uncle with big rock? Like that, only more worse litmus paper of the mind. If you find yourself in the power of someone who will use the word "commence" in cold blood, go somewhere else very quickly. But if they say "Enter," don't stop to pack.[6] Provided that he wasn't poor, foreign, nor disqualified by reason of being mad, frivolous, or a woman.[7] i.e., before the inhabitants

Raphael Saint George and the Dragon

Raphael Saint George and the DragonGeorge Frederick Watts Sir GalahadGeorge Frederick Watts Love And Life
Nice lad, he thought. Talked to himself a lot, but that was only to be expected. The desert took some people like that, didn't it, Angus?
Yes, said Angus.
Angus didn't want any of the brackish water. He said it gave him wind.
"Please yourself," said St. Ungulant. "Well, well! Here's a little treat."
You didn't often get It padded forward, then lumbered up into a run.
Oblivious to his fate, St. Ungulant started on the third centipede.
The lion leapt . . .
And things would have looked very bad for St. Ungulant if Angus hadn't caught it right behind the ear with a rock.

Chilopoda aridius out here in the open desert, and here were three, all under one rock!Funny how you felt like a little nibble, even after a good meal of Petit porc rôti avec pommes de terre nouvelles et légumes du jour et bière glacée avec figment de l'imagination.He was picking the legs of the second one out of his tooth when the lion padded to the top of the nearest dune behind him.The lion was feeling odd sensations of gratitude. It felt it should catch up with the nice food that had tended to it and, well, refrain from eating it in some symbolic way. And now here was some more food, hardly paying it any attention. Well, it didn't owe this one anything . . .

Thomas Gainsborough Cottage Girl with Dog and Pitcher

Thomas Gainsborough Cottage Girl with Dog and PitcherAlexandre Cabanel The Birth of VenusSandro Botticelli The Story of Nastagio degli Onesti
Brutha cowered.
"You stoned our envoy!" shouted Vorbis. "An unarmed man!"
"He brought it upon himself," said the Tyrant. "Aristocrates was there. He will tell you."
The tall man nodded and stood up.
"By tradition anyone may speak in the marketplace," he began.
"And be stonedhave finished, the exquisitors speak . . .
"No. By an amphora. Tuvelpit was in the crowd, you see."
"And striking honest men is considered proper godly behavior, is it?"
"Your missionary had said that people who did not believe in Om would suffer endless punishment. I have to tell you that the crowd considered this rude."
"And so they threw stones at him . . ."?" Vorbis demanded.Aristocrates held up a hand."Ah," he said, "anyone can say what they like in the square. We have another tradition, though, called free listening. Unfortunately, when people dislike what they hear, they can become a little . . . testy.""I was there too," said another advisor. "Your priest got up to speak and at first everything was fine, because people were laughing. And then he said that Om was the only real God, and everyone went quiet. And then he pushed over a statue of Tuvelpit, the God of Wine. That's when the trouble started.""Are you proposing to tell me he was struck by lightning?" said Vorbis.Vorbis was no longer shouting. His voice was level, without passion. The thought rose in Brutha's mind: this is how the exquisitors speak. When the inquisitors

Juan Gris The Guitar

Juan Gris The GuitarJuan Gris BreakfastGeorge Bellows Stag at Sharkey's
Your legs to swell to tree trunks!" snapped the tortoise.
"But-but," said Brutha, "you're saying the prophets were . . . just men who wrote things down! "
"That's what the dead?"
"I don't know," said the tortoise. "Who did it before?"
"You did!"
"Did I?"
Brutha stuck his fingers in his ears and opened up with the third verse of Lo, the infidels flee the wrath of Om.
After a couple of minutes the tortoise stuck its head out from under its shell.
"So," it said, "before unbelievers get burned alive . . . do you sing to them first?"
"No!"they were!""Yes, but it wasn't from you!""Some of it was, perhaps," said the tortoise. "I've . . . forgotten so much, the past few years.""But if you've been down here as a tortoise, who's been listening to the prayers? Who has been accepting the sacrifices? Who has been judging

Henri Matisse Odalisques

Henri Matisse OdalisquesHenri Matisse OdalisqueHenri Matisse Music
I'm not prying or anything,' said Conina meekly, 'but what exactly do you have in mind?'
She could see.
'I think it is,' he said, 'and when it comes to dying, there's only one opinion that matters.'
'Oh.'
A couple of deer blundered into the clearing, ignored the humans in their blind panic, and rocketed away.
'You don't have to stay,' said Nijel. 'I've got this geas, you see.'
Conina looked at the backs of her hands. a rolling heap of bulldozed snow and soil bearing down on them through the forest, the mind-numbing sound of the leading glaciers now over­laid with the rhythmic snapping of tree trunks. And, advancing implacably above the treeline, so high that the eye mistook them at first for sky, the blue-green prows.'Nothing,' said Nijel, 'nothing at all. We've just got to re­sist them, that's all there is to it. That's what we're here for.''But it won't make any difference,' she said.'It will to me. If we're going to die anyway, Iii rather die like this. Heroically.''Is it heroic to die like this?' said Conina

Albert Bierstadt Valley of the Yosemite

Albert Bierstadt Valley of the YosemiteAlbert Bierstadt the oregon trailSir Lawrence Alma-Tadema Caracalla and Geta
The fire sank down further into its bed of ash. After a while Conina came back, and shook the other two awake.
'Warrizit?'
'I think you ought to see this,' she hissed. 'I think it could be important.'
'I just shut my eyes for a second-’ Nijel protested.
'Never mind 'Watch...
Rincewind walked jerkily up the beach, carrying a large round rock in both hands. He walked past them without a word, his eyes staring straight ahead.
They followed him along the cold beach until he reached a bare area between the dunes, where he stopped and, still moving with all the grace of a clothes horse, dropped the rock. It made a clinking noise.about that. Come on.'Creosote squinted around the impromptu campsite.'Where's the wizard fellow?''You'll see. And don't make a noisy. It could be dangerous.'They stumbled after her knee-deep in vapour, towards the sea.Eventually Nijel said, 'Why dangerous-’'Shh! Did you hear it?'Nijel listened.'Like a sort of ringing noise?'

Leroy Neiman Elephant Nocturne

Leroy Neiman Elephant NocturneLeroy Neiman Elephant FamilyLeroy Neiman Churchill Downs
Silence poured from the heavy woodwork. But, unlike the silence that had the rest of the city under its thrall, this was a watchful, alert silence; it was the silence of a sleeping cat that had just opened one eye.
When he across the floor in there, or maybe it was only the creak­ing of Spelter's nerves. He tried to swallow away the dry­ness in his throat, and had another go.
'Look, all right, but, look, they're talking about shut­ting the Library!'
The silence grew louder. The sleeping cat had cocked an ear.
'What is happening is all wrong!' the bursar confided, and clapped his hand over his mouth at the enormity of what he had said.could bear it no longer Spelter dropped to his hands and knees and tried to peer under the doors.Finally he, put his mouth as close as he could to the draughty, dusty gap under the bottommost hinge and whispered: 'I say! Um. Can you hear me?'He felt sure that something moved, far back in the darkness.He tried again, his mood swinging between terror and hope with every erratic thump of his heart.'I say? It's me, um, Spelter. You know? Could you speak to me, please?'Perhaps large leathery feet were creeping gently

Francisco de Zurbaran The Immaculate Conception

Francisco de Zurbaran The Immaculate ConceptionArthur Hughes La Belle Dame Sans MerciArthur Hughes Ophelia
a few minutes he would have to make a speech. Wayzygoose had, in his younger days, sought power in strange places; he'd wrestled with demons in blazing octagrams, stared into dimensions that men were not meant to wot of, and in some sort of order and cleared his throat.
'My brothers in art,' he began, 'I cannot tell you how much I -er, how much ... fine traditions of this ancient university ... er ... as I look around me and see the pictures of Archchancellors gone before ...' He paused, sorted through his notes again, and plunged on rather more certainly. 'Standing here tonight I am reminded of the story about the three-legged pedlar and the, er, merchant's daughters. It seems that this merchant ...'
There was a knock at the door.even outfaced the Unseen University grants committee, but nothing in the eight circles of nothingness was quite so bad as a couple of hundred expectant faces staring up at him through the cigar smoke.The heralds would soon be coming by to collect him. He sighed and pushed his pudding away untasted, crossed the room, stood in front of the big mirror, and fumbled in the pocket of the robe for his notes.After a while he managed to get them

Albert Moore Dreamers

Albert Moore DreamersAlbert Moore A VenusAlbert Moore A Musician
candles to make light and there aren’t any and there’s still light shining everywhere,’ said Windle. ‘Mr Poons?’ said Ludmilla again, prodding him.
‘Yes?’
‘Here come some trolleys again.’
They were blocking all five passages leading off the central space.
‘There’s no stairs down,’ said Windle.
‘’
‘How can they talk? How can they think? There can’t be any brains in a lot of wire, ‘ said Ludmilla.
‘Ants and bees don’t think, if it comes to that,’ said Windle.’They’re just
controlled -‘
He looked upwards.
They looked upwards.
‘It’s coming from somewhere in the ceiling, ‘ he said. ‘We’ve got to find it right now!’
‘There’s just panels of light,’ said Ludmilla.Maybe it’s - she’s - in one of the glassy bits,’ said Ludmilla. ‘The shops?’ ‘I don’t think so. They don’t look finished. Anyway, that feels wrong - ‘ Lupine growled. Spikes glistened on the leading trolleys, but they weren’t rushing to attack.‘They must have seen what we did to the others,’ said Arthur.‘Yes. But how could they? That was upstairs,’ said Windle.‘Well, maybe they talk to each other.
‘Something else! Look for something it could be coming from!’
‘It’s coming from everywhere!’

Thomas Moran Grand Canyon

Thomas Moran Grand CanyonJean Francois Millet The sowerJean Francois Millet Spring
whirred overhead. Some buried themselves in neighbouring roofs, starting more fires.
What was left was just an eye-watering glow.
And then little at the top of the stairs.
‘There’s one in Chambly,’ she said.’But there’s a witch over Lancrew~.’ NO WITCHES. NO MAGIC. SEND FOR HIM. AND EVERYONE ELSE, GO AWAY.
It wasn’t a suggestion. It wasn’t even a command. It was simply an irrefutable statement.
Miss Flitworth waved her skinny arms at the people.pools of shadow. within the glow. They moved and ran together and formed the shape of a tall figure striding forward, carrying something in front of it. It passed through the blistered crowd and trudged up the cool dark road towards the farm. The people picked themselves up and followed it, moving through the dusk like the tail of a dark comet.Bill Door climbed the stairs to Miss Flitworth’s bedroom and laid the child on the bed.SHE SAID THERE WAS AN APOTHECARY SOMEWHERE NEAR HERE.Miss FIitworth pushed her way through the crowd

Yvonne Jeanette Karlsen Nude

Yvonne Jeanette Karlsen NudeTamara de Lempicka DormeuseTamara de Lempicka Andromeda
turning-into-a-bat bit would be interesting, but the owls round here are murder. And as for the . . . you know . . . with the blood . . . well . . .’ His voice trailed off.
‘Artore’s .
‘I should have stayed in that coffin,’ said Arthur. ‘Oh, no, ‘ said Mr Shoe.’That’s taking the easy way out. The movement needs people like you, Arthur. We had to set an example. Remember our motto.’
‘Which motto is that, Reg?’ said Lupine wearily. ‘We have so many.’
‘Undead yes - unperson no!’ Reg said.never been very good at meetink people,’ said Doreen. ‘And the worst part is having to wear evening dress the whole time,’ said Arthur. He gave Doreen a side-ways glance.’I ‘m sure it’s not really compulsory.’‘It iss very important to maintain standerts,’ said Doreen. Doreen, in addition to her here-one-minute-and-gone-the-next vampire accent, had decided to complement Arthur’s evening dress with what she considered appropriate for a female vampire: figure-hugging black dress, long dark hair cut into a widow’s peak, and very pallid makeup. Nature had designed her to be small and plump with frizzy hair and a hearty complexion. There were definite signs of conflict

Henri Matisse The Painter's Family

Henri Matisse The Painter's FamilyHenri Matisse The Blue WindowHenri Matisse Spanish Still LifeHenri Matisse Moroccan LandscapeHenri Matisse Moorish Screen
onslaught of will-power than a sick mosquito can withstand a blowtorch.
The door to the chapel was locked. However, Windle found that the merest pressure was enough to pull the lock out of the woodwork and leave fingerprints in the metal of the door handle.
‘Oh, goodness, ‘ he said.
He piloted himself out into the corridor. The distant clatter of cu~~ery and the buzz of voices suggested that one of the automatic systems, all whirring and clicking away with the kind of precision that isn’t noticed until it breaks down. He surveyed himself from the control room of his skull. He looked at the silent chemical factory of his liver with the same sinking feeling as a canoe builder might survey the controls of a computerised super-tanker. The mysteries of his kidneys awaited Windle’s mastery of renal control. What, when you got right down to it, was a spleen? And how did you make it go?
University’s four daily meals was in progress.He wondered whether you were allowed to eat when you were dead. Probably not, he thought.And could he eat, anyway? It wasn’t that he wasn’t hungry. It was just that . . . well, he knew how to think, and walking and moving were just a matter of twitching some fairly obvious nerves, but how exactly did your stomach work?It began to dawn on Windle that the human body is not run by the brain, despite the brain’s opinion on the matter. In fact it’s run by dozens of complex