Jack Vettriano Contemplation of Betrayal 2001Jack Vettriano cold HeartsJack Vettriano Cocktails and broken hearts
Uncategorizable, unputdownable, Atkinson's books arethat have burst at the seams — they're taut and Bod's family were killed when he was only a toddler. To escape the murderer he fled into a graveyard populated by an odd assortment of ghosts and other supernatural entities, who take it upon themselves to raise and educate the little boy. Over the course of the novel we hear the stories of their lives, deaths and afterlives, and Bod's childhood becomes a gothic, inverted Jungle Book: the ghosts teach him things only the dead know, and he grows up loving things most children are taught to fear. Gaiman's prose is all charm and arch, but his whimsies are never as harmless as they first appear, and there's much more to The Graveyard Book than your average young adult novel.intricate but also messy and funny and full of As a little girl Joanna Hunter watched her mother and sister (and dog) be stabbed to death by a stranger. Thirty years later, just as the killer is being released from prison, Joanna disappears. It would be incorrect to say that Atkinson's two sleuths, Jackson and Louise, spring to the rescue — more like they're roped into the rescue by chance and their own cynical, world-weary good-heartedness. And it's on chance and luck as much as anything that the final mystery turns.
9. The Graveyard Book by
Tuesday, December 30, 2008
Monday, December 29, 2008
Da Vinci Madonna and Child with a Pomegranate
Da Vinci Madonna and Child with a PomegranateRembrandt Sarah Waiting for TobiasRembrandt The Anatomy Lecture of Dr TulpRembrandt Sampling Officials of the Drapers' Guild
folks to choose their battles wisely, to judge Obama on the content of his policy-making, not on the character of his ministers.”
Amen. Here’s to humility and equanimity everywhere in America, starting at the top, as we negotiate the fierce rapids of change awaiting us in the New Year.the new wave he represents. As he also told Gross, young evangelicals care less and less about the old wedge issues and aren’t as likely to base their votes on them. On gay rights in particular, polls show that young evangelicals are moving in Cizik’s (and the country’s) direction and away from what John McCain once rightly called “the agents of intolerance.” It’s not a coincidence that Dobson’s Focus on the Family, which spent more than $500,000 promoting Proposition 8, has now America.” But as Rachel Maddow of MSNBC reminded her audience, “comparing gay to child abuse” is a “strange model of civility.” Less strange but equally hard to take is Warren’s defensive insistence that some of his best friends
folks to choose their battles wisely, to judge Obama on the content of his policy-making, not on the character of his ministers.”
Amen. Here’s to humility and equanimity everywhere in America, starting at the top, as we negotiate the fierce rapids of change awaiting us in the New Year.the new wave he represents. As he also told Gross, young evangelicals care less and less about the old wedge issues and aren’t as likely to base their votes on them. On gay rights in particular, polls show that young evangelicals are moving in Cizik’s (and the country’s) direction and away from what John McCain once rightly called “the agents of intolerance.” It’s not a coincidence that Dobson’s Focus on the Family, which spent more than $500,000 promoting Proposition 8, has now America.” But as Rachel Maddow of MSNBC reminded her audience, “comparing gay to child abuse” is a “strange model of civility.” Less strange but equally hard to take is Warren’s defensive insistence that some of his best friends
Tuesday, December 23, 2008
Ernst Salome and the Tigers
Ernst Salome and the TigersErnst Smoking The HookahErnst The Arab PrinceSeignac Cupid Disarmed
Ethan dropped on his assailant with both knees, driving the breath out of him, with luck breaking a few of his ribs and crushing his spleen to paste. He clawed at the gloved hand that held the gun, seized possession of the weapon, fumbled it, and with dismay saw it clatter out of easy reach.Although his skull must be ringing like the bells of Notre Dame, the creep flailed at Ethan and snared a fistful of his hair, twisted it painfully, tried to pull his face down toward to be dead, but he had seemed to be dead before. Fric watched the fight from an art-film angle and through a crimson haze, wondering why the director of photography had chosen to shoot an action scene with a distorting lens and a red filter.All this he wondered and worried about not with full attention but dreamily, as if he were asleep and having two nightmares at the same time, one involving two men in mortal combat bared and snapping teeth.Fearing the teeth, Ethan nevertheless clamped his right hand on the man’s throat to pin him, and then punched, left knuckles to right eye, and punched again, but still his hair was twined in those iron fingers and being drawn out by the roots. He felt a thick jewelry chain around the maniac’s throat and thought to twist it, twisted and punched, twisted and punched, until his left hand ached and the taut chain, having scored the fingers of his right hand, finally broke like cheap string.The teeth stopped snapping. The eyes fixed on something beyond Ethan, beyond the night itself. Limp fingers released twisted locks of hair.Gasping, rising from the dead man, Ethan looked at the chain in his hand. A locket. A glass sphere in which floated a watchful eye. Moloch seemed
Ethan dropped on his assailant with both knees, driving the breath out of him, with luck breaking a few of his ribs and crushing his spleen to paste. He clawed at the gloved hand that held the gun, seized possession of the weapon, fumbled it, and with dismay saw it clatter out of easy reach.Although his skull must be ringing like the bells of Notre Dame, the creep flailed at Ethan and snared a fistful of his hair, twisted it painfully, tried to pull his face down toward to be dead, but he had seemed to be dead before. Fric watched the fight from an art-film angle and through a crimson haze, wondering why the director of photography had chosen to shoot an action scene with a distorting lens and a red filter.All this he wondered and worried about not with full attention but dreamily, as if he were asleep and having two nightmares at the same time, one involving two men in mortal combat bared and snapping teeth.Fearing the teeth, Ethan nevertheless clamped his right hand on the man’s throat to pin him, and then punched, left knuckles to right eye, and punched again, but still his hair was twined in those iron fingers and being drawn out by the roots. He felt a thick jewelry chain around the maniac’s throat and thought to twist it, twisted and punched, twisted and punched, until his left hand ached and the taut chain, having scored the fingers of his right hand, finally broke like cheap string.The teeth stopped snapping. The eyes fixed on something beyond Ethan, beyond the night itself. Limp fingers released twisted locks of hair.Gasping, rising from the dead man, Ethan looked at the chain in his hand. A locket. A glass sphere in which floated a watchful eye. Moloch seemed
Sunday, December 21, 2008
O'Keeffe White Pansy
O'Keeffe White PansyO'Keeffe White FlowerO'Keeffe White flower on Red Earth No. 1O'Keeffe Sunflower, New Mexico 1935
The world’s full of sexy, smart, successful guys who wouldn’t [474] recognize a bigger punched them in the face wearing a ring that left His initials in their foreheads.”“That would be your pissed-off Old Testament version of God.”“Why do I have to fall for a guy who needs meaning?”“Maybe because you need it, too.” That thought silenced Laura, and into the pay parking tickets, anything.” Instead of pulling the trigger, Corky withdrew the barrel from Dalton’s mouth, bearing down to scrape the steel across the teeth, which were loose shot would be too easy for you,” Corky said. “When I’m ready to finish yousilence, Hazard said, “Remember that guy you helped him track down yesterday morning—Rolf Reynerd?”“Famous wolf,” she said. “Rolf means ‘famous wolf.’ ”“Rolf means dead. Don’t you watch the news?”“I’m not a masochist, am I?”“So check the homicide overnights. But not now. Right now I need you to do something for me, for Ethan, but off the record.”“What do you need?”Hazard glanced at the house. The place still radiated that dual atmosphere: as if the Hell.“Vladimir Laputa,” Hazard said. He spelled it for Laura. “Let me know as quick as you can, does anyone with that name have a rap sheet, even just a DUI, failure to
The world’s full of sexy, smart, successful guys who wouldn’t [474] recognize a bigger punched them in the face wearing a ring that left His initials in their foreheads.”“That would be your pissed-off Old Testament version of God.”“Why do I have to fall for a guy who needs meaning?”“Maybe because you need it, too.” That thought silenced Laura, and into the pay parking tickets, anything.” Instead of pulling the trigger, Corky withdrew the barrel from Dalton’s mouth, bearing down to scrape the steel across the teeth, which were loose shot would be too easy for you,” Corky said. “When I’m ready to finish yousilence, Hazard said, “Remember that guy you helped him track down yesterday morning—Rolf Reynerd?”“Famous wolf,” she said. “Rolf means ‘famous wolf.’ ”“Rolf means dead. Don’t you watch the news?”“I’m not a masochist, am I?”“So check the homicide overnights. But not now. Right now I need you to do something for me, for Ethan, but off the record.”“What do you need?”Hazard glanced at the house. The place still radiated that dual atmosphere: as if the Hell.“Vladimir Laputa,” Hazard said. He spelled it for Laura. “Let me know as quick as you can, does anyone with that name have a rap sheet, even just a DUI, failure to
Friday, December 19, 2008
Juan Gris Man in the Cafe painting
Juan Gris Man in the Cafe paintingJuan Gris Breakfast paintingGeorge Bellows Stag at Sharkey's painting
] asteroid smashed into Bel Air. But even a star as famous and rich as Ghost Dad could not protect himself from cataclysm on a planetary scale.If the Swiss-made generators in the bunker were disabled, then Frankenstein-castle banks of twenty-year to Mrs. McBee, there were 214 quake lights, which meant you could safely bet there were not 213 or 215.These small but potentially bright, battery-powered flashlights were at all times plugged into electrical outlets in the baseboard, continuously charging. If the power failed, the quake lights at once switched on, providing enough pathway illumination to allow everyone to exit safely from the mansion in the darkest hours of the deepest night. Furthermore, they could be unplugged and carried batteries, each as big as a casket standing on end, instantly came into service. These supported limited emergency lighting, security system, and other essential equipment for as long as ninety-six hours.Should the city’s electric power fail, should the generators be wrecked, should the giant twenty-year batteries prove useless, there were many earthquake lights distributed throughout the house. Personally, Fric figured such a series of failures was likely only in the event of an invasion of extraterrestrials with magnetic-pulse weapons.Anyway, according
] asteroid smashed into Bel Air. But even a star as famous and rich as Ghost Dad could not protect himself from cataclysm on a planetary scale.If the Swiss-made generators in the bunker were disabled, then Frankenstein-castle banks of twenty-year to Mrs. McBee, there were 214 quake lights, which meant you could safely bet there were not 213 or 215.These small but potentially bright, battery-powered flashlights were at all times plugged into electrical outlets in the baseboard, continuously charging. If the power failed, the quake lights at once switched on, providing enough pathway illumination to allow everyone to exit safely from the mansion in the darkest hours of the deepest night. Furthermore, they could be unplugged and carried batteries, each as big as a casket standing on end, instantly came into service. These supported limited emergency lighting, security system, and other essential equipment for as long as ninety-six hours.Should the city’s electric power fail, should the generators be wrecked, should the giant twenty-year batteries prove useless, there were many earthquake lights distributed throughout the house. Personally, Fric figured such a series of failures was likely only in the event of an invasion of extraterrestrials with magnetic-pulse weapons.Anyway, according
Tuesday, December 16, 2008
Edward Hopper Ground Swell painting
Edward Hopper Ground Swell paintingEdward Hopper Western Motel paintingEdgar Degas Dancers in Pink painting
Glad that he had covered the knife with a dishtowel, Fric said, “What calls?”“From the heavy breather.”“Oh. Yeah. The breathernot throughout the house but only in the room where Fric could hear it.Fric longed to explain this crazy situation to Mr. Truman and to reveal all the weird events of the previous evening. Even as he worked up the courage to spill his guts, however, he thought of the six psychiatrists who would be eager to earn hundreds of thousands of bucks [344] by keeping him on a couch, talking about the stress of being the only child of the biggest movie star in the world.”“Are you sure he didn’t say anything to you?”“Breathed. He just, you know, breathed.”“The odd thing is—none of the calls you told me about are on the log.”Well, of course, now that Fric understood these calls were being made by a supernatural, mirror-walking being who referred to himself as a guardian angel and who only used the idea of a telephone, he was not surprised that they weren’t recorded as entries in the log. He also wasn’t any longer puzzled about why Mr. Truman hadn’t picked up on the call the previous night, even though it had rung just about forever: Mysterious Caller always knew where Fric was—train room, wine cellar, library—and using his uncanny powers and only the idea of a phone, he made Fric’s line ring
Glad that he had covered the knife with a dishtowel, Fric said, “What calls?”“From the heavy breather.”“Oh. Yeah. The breathernot throughout the house but only in the room where Fric could hear it.Fric longed to explain this crazy situation to Mr. Truman and to reveal all the weird events of the previous evening. Even as he worked up the courage to spill his guts, however, he thought of the six psychiatrists who would be eager to earn hundreds of thousands of bucks [344] by keeping him on a couch, talking about the stress of being the only child of the biggest movie star in the world.”“Are you sure he didn’t say anything to you?”“Breathed. He just, you know, breathed.”“The odd thing is—none of the calls you told me about are on the log.”Well, of course, now that Fric understood these calls were being made by a supernatural, mirror-walking being who referred to himself as a guardian angel and who only used the idea of a telephone, he was not surprised that they weren’t recorded as entries in the log. He also wasn’t any longer puzzled about why Mr. Truman hadn’t picked up on the call the previous night, even though it had rung just about forever: Mysterious Caller always knew where Fric was—train room, wine cellar, library—and using his uncanny powers and only the idea of a phone, he made Fric’s line ring
Thursday, December 11, 2008
Juan Gris Man in the Cafe painting
Juan Gris Man in the Cafe paintingJuan Gris Breakfast paintingGeorge Bellows Stag at Sharkey's painting
SNOW FELL ON THE CITY OF ANGELS. Unprecedented, the shepherd wind drove white flocks out of the dark meadows above the have to rise, go along the hall to his parents’ room. Dad would know what to do about the missing roof.First, however, Ethan wanted to enjoy this spectacle: Above him, the snowfall hung an infinite crystal chandelier, its beautiful swags of cut beads and beveled pendants in perpetual glittering movement.His eyelashes were frosted.Flakes delivered cold kisses to his face, melted on his cheeks.When his vision fully focused, he discovered that in truth the December night was full of raindrops, to which his troubled eyes had imparted crystalline structures and mysterious hieroglyphic forms.Once soft, his bed had been spellcast into blacktop.world, gently harried them between ficus trees and palms, along avenues that had never known a snowy Christmas.Dazzled, Ethan gazed up into the fleecy night.Abed in his room, he realized that the roof must have been lifted off the house by a prying wind. Snowdrifts would bury the furniture, ruin the carpet.Soon he would
SNOW FELL ON THE CITY OF ANGELS. Unprecedented, the shepherd wind drove white flocks out of the dark meadows above the have to rise, go along the hall to his parents’ room. Dad would know what to do about the missing roof.First, however, Ethan wanted to enjoy this spectacle: Above him, the snowfall hung an infinite crystal chandelier, its beautiful swags of cut beads and beveled pendants in perpetual glittering movement.His eyelashes were frosted.Flakes delivered cold kisses to his face, melted on his cheeks.When his vision fully focused, he discovered that in truth the December night was full of raindrops, to which his troubled eyes had imparted crystalline structures and mysterious hieroglyphic forms.Once soft, his bed had been spellcast into blacktop.world, gently harried them between ficus trees and palms, along avenues that had never known a snowy Christmas.Dazzled, Ethan gazed up into the fleecy night.Abed in his room, he realized that the roof must have been lifted off the house by a prying wind. Snowdrifts would bury the furniture, ruin the carpet.Soon he would
Wednesday, December 10, 2008
Sung Kim Soaring Eagle painting
Sung Kim Soaring Eagle paintingSung Kim Point paintingSung Kim Paradise paintingSung Kim Palm Reflection painting
Golden marble sheathed the floor, the walls. In the black granite countertop, two black ceramic sinks were served by brushed-gold spouts and faucets.Above the counter, a long expanse of beveled mirror, hazed with condensation, failed to present a clear reflection. His distorted shape moved under that frosted surface, like a ambulance arrived, he had fallen into a coma.His attackers—who’d come for money, vengeance, or both—had not been cheated recently by Dunny. They had been in prison for six years and, only recently released, had come to settle a long-overdue account.strange pale something glimpsed swimming just beneath the shadow-dappled surface of a pond.Veils of steam floated in the air.Within the bathroom was a water closet. The door stood open, the toilet visible. No one in there.Dunny had nearly been drowned in this toilet.Neighbors in a fourth-floor apartment had heard him struggling furiously for , shouting for help.Police arrived quickly and caught the assailants in desperate flight. They found Dunny lying on his side in front of the toilet, semiconscious and coughing up water.By the time the
Golden marble sheathed the floor, the walls. In the black granite countertop, two black ceramic sinks were served by brushed-gold spouts and faucets.Above the counter, a long expanse of beveled mirror, hazed with condensation, failed to present a clear reflection. His distorted shape moved under that frosted surface, like a ambulance arrived, he had fallen into a coma.His attackers—who’d come for money, vengeance, or both—had not been cheated recently by Dunny. They had been in prison for six years and, only recently released, had come to settle a long-overdue account.strange pale something glimpsed swimming just beneath the shadow-dappled surface of a pond.Veils of steam floated in the air.Within the bathroom was a water closet. The door stood open, the toilet visible. No one in there.Dunny had nearly been drowned in this toilet.Neighbors in a fourth-floor apartment had heard him struggling furiously for , shouting for help.Police arrived quickly and caught the assailants in desperate flight. They found Dunny lying on his side in front of the toilet, semiconscious and coughing up water.By the time the
Camille Pissarro Still Life painting
Camille Pissarro Still Life paintingCamille Pissarro Morning Sunlight on the Snow paintingCamille Pissarro Bouquet Of Flowers paintingCamille Pissarro Boulevard Montmarte painting
Ethan had never known why she called him Cookie. “The man would bore your ass off, Laura, and that’s the truth.”“Pretty as he is, I wouldn’t need conversation. I’d just shove a rag in his mouth, tape his lips shut, and off we’d go to paradise.”“Basically it’s my job to keep people like you away from him.”“Truman derives from two Old English words,” she said. “It means ‘steadfast, loyal, trustworthy, constant.’ ”old Ten Card,” she said, referring to his record of service on the force. “Must be more brown stars for ass kissing on that baby than any hundred other cards in the history of the job.”“If you’re done dissing me, I’ve been wondering. ... Rolf. Famous wolf. Does that make sense? What’s a wolf have to do to get famous?”“Kill a lot of sheep, I guess.” “You can’t get a date with the Face by making me feel guilty. Besides, when wasn’t I loyal and trustworthy?”“Cookie, two out of four doesn’t mean you deserve your name.”“You were too good for me anyway, Laura. You’ve got more to give than a shlump like me can appreciate.”“I’d like to see your
Ethan had never known why she called him Cookie. “The man would bore your ass off, Laura, and that’s the truth.”“Pretty as he is, I wouldn’t need conversation. I’d just shove a rag in his mouth, tape his lips shut, and off we’d go to paradise.”“Basically it’s my job to keep people like you away from him.”“Truman derives from two Old English words,” she said. “It means ‘steadfast, loyal, trustworthy, constant.’ ”old Ten Card,” she said, referring to his record of service on the force. “Must be more brown stars for ass kissing on that baby than any hundred other cards in the history of the job.”“If you’re done dissing me, I’ve been wondering. ... Rolf. Famous wolf. Does that make sense? What’s a wolf have to do to get famous?”“Kill a lot of sheep, I guess.” “You can’t get a date with the Face by making me feel guilty. Besides, when wasn’t I loyal and trustworthy?”“Cookie, two out of four doesn’t mean you deserve your name.”“You were too good for me anyway, Laura. You’ve got more to give than a shlump like me can appreciate.”“I’d like to see your
Sunday, December 7, 2008
Lorenzo Lotto Christ And The Adulteress painting
Lorenzo Lotto Christ And The Adulteress paintingLorenzo Lotto Madonna and Child with Saints and an Angel paintingCamille Pissarro The Harvest 1882 paintingCamille Pissarro The garden at Pontoise 1877 painting
stone had been hewn, but now they were cracked and worn, and split by the roots of trees. For some while he the stone and cupped his chin in his hands, staring eastwards but seeing little with his eyes. All that had happened since Bilbo left the Shire was passing through his mind, and he recalled and pondered everything that he could remember of Gandalf's words. Time went on, and still he was no nearer to a choice.Suddenly he awoke from his thoughts: a strange feeling came to him that something was behind him, that unfriendly eyes were climbed, not caring which way he went, until he came to a grassy place. Rowan-trees grew about it, and in the midst was a wide flat stone. The little upland lawn was open upon the East and was filled now with the early sunlight. Frodo halted and looked out over the River, far below him, to Tol Brandir and the birds wheeling in the great gulf of air between him and the untrodden isle. The voice of Rauros was a mighty roaring mingled with a deep throbbing boom.He sat down upon upon him. He sprang up and turned; but all that he saw to his surprise was Boromir, and his face was smiling and kind.
stone had been hewn, but now they were cracked and worn, and split by the roots of trees. For some while he the stone and cupped his chin in his hands, staring eastwards but seeing little with his eyes. All that had happened since Bilbo left the Shire was passing through his mind, and he recalled and pondered everything that he could remember of Gandalf's words. Time went on, and still he was no nearer to a choice.Suddenly he awoke from his thoughts: a strange feeling came to him that something was behind him, that unfriendly eyes were climbed, not caring which way he went, until he came to a grassy place. Rowan-trees grew about it, and in the midst was a wide flat stone. The little upland lawn was open upon the East and was filled now with the early sunlight. Frodo halted and looked out over the River, far below him, to Tol Brandir and the birds wheeling in the great gulf of air between him and the untrodden isle. The voice of Rauros was a mighty roaring mingled with a deep throbbing boom.He sat down upon upon him. He sprang up and turned; but all that he saw to his surprise was Boromir, and his face was smiling and kind.
Friday, December 5, 2008
Mary Cassatt Young Mother Sewing painting
Mary Cassatt Young Mother Sewing paintingEdward Hopper Gas painting
welcome no doubt. But I know now where we are: we have reached the First Deep, the level immediately below the Gates. This is the Second Hall of Old Moria; and the Gates are near: away beyond the eastern end, on the left, not more than a quarter of a mile. Across the Bridge, up a broad stair, along a wide road through the First Hall, and out! But come and look! 'They peered out. Before them was another cavernous hall. It was loftier and far longer than the one in which they had slept. They were near its eastern end; westward it ran away into darkness. Down the centre stalked a double line of towering pillars. They were carved like boles of mighty trees whose boughs upheld the roof with a branching tracery of stone. Their stems were smooth and black, but a red
Edward Hopper Room in Brooklyn paintingEdward Hopper Ground Swell painting
When they came to the arch Gandalf went through, signing to them to wait. As he stood just beyond the opening they saw his face lit by a red glow. Quickly he stepped back.`There is some new devilry here,' he said, 'devised for our glow was darkly mirrored in their sides. Right across the floor, close to the feet of two huge pillars a great fissure had opened. Out of it a fierce red light came, and now and again flames licked at the brink and curled about the bases of the columns. Wisps of dark smoke wavered in the hot air.'If we had come by the main road down from the upper halls, we should have been trapped here,' said Gandalf. `Let us hope that the fire now lies between us and pursuit. Come! There is no time to lose.'Even as he spoke they heard again the pursuing drum-beat: Doom, doom, doom. Away beyond the shadows at the western end of the hall there came cries and horn-calls. Doom, doom: the pillars
welcome no doubt. But I know now where we are: we have reached the First Deep, the level immediately below the Gates. This is the Second Hall of Old Moria; and the Gates are near: away beyond the eastern end, on the left, not more than a quarter of a mile. Across the Bridge, up a broad stair, along a wide road through the First Hall, and out! But come and look! 'They peered out. Before them was another cavernous hall. It was loftier and far longer than the one in which they had slept. They were near its eastern end; westward it ran away into darkness. Down the centre stalked a double line of towering pillars. They were carved like boles of mighty trees whose boughs upheld the roof with a branching tracery of stone. Their stems were smooth and black, but a red
Edward Hopper Room in Brooklyn paintingEdward Hopper Ground Swell painting
When they came to the arch Gandalf went through, signing to them to wait. As he stood just beyond the opening they saw his face lit by a red glow. Quickly he stepped back.`There is some new devilry here,' he said, 'devised for our glow was darkly mirrored in their sides. Right across the floor, close to the feet of two huge pillars a great fissure had opened. Out of it a fierce red light came, and now and again flames licked at the brink and curled about the bases of the columns. Wisps of dark smoke wavered in the hot air.'If we had come by the main road down from the upper halls, we should have been trapped here,' said Gandalf. `Let us hope that the fire now lies between us and pursuit. Come! There is no time to lose.'Even as he spoke they heard again the pursuing drum-beat: Doom, doom, doom. Away beyond the shadows at the western end of the hall there came cries and horn-calls. Doom, doom: the pillars
Wednesday, December 3, 2008
Martin Johnson Heade paintings
Martin Johnson Heade paintingsPiet Mondrian paintings
might be found in a wild region with the uncouth name of Shire."' "Your information was correct," I said. "But do not put it that way, if you meet any of the inhabitants. You are near the borders of the Shire now. And what do you want with me? It must be pressing. You were never a traveller, unless driven by great need."' "I have an urgent errand," he said. "My news is evil." Then he looked about him, as if the hedges might have ears. "Nazgûl,"
Paul Klee paintingsPino paintings
I have been told that wherever they go the Riders ask for news of a land called Shire."' "The Shire," I said; but my heart sank. For even the Wise might fear to withstand the Nine, when they are gathered together under their fell chieftain. A great king and sorcerer he was of old, and now he wields a deadly fear. "Who told you, and who sent you? " I asked.' "Saruman the White," answered Radagast. "And he told me to say that if you feel the need, he will help; but you must seek his aid at once, or it will be too late."
he whispered. "The Nine are abroad again. They have crossed the River secretly and are moving westward. They have taken the guise of riders in black."'I knew then what I had dreaded without knowing it.` "The enemy must have some great need or purpose," said Radagast; "but what it is that makes him look to these distant and desolate parts, I cannot guess."` "What do you mean? " said I.
might be found in a wild region with the uncouth name of Shire."' "Your information was correct," I said. "But do not put it that way, if you meet any of the inhabitants. You are near the borders of the Shire now. And what do you want with me? It must be pressing. You were never a traveller, unless driven by great need."' "I have an urgent errand," he said. "My news is evil." Then he looked about him, as if the hedges might have ears. "Nazgûl,"
Paul Klee paintingsPino paintings
I have been told that wherever they go the Riders ask for news of a land called Shire."' "The Shire," I said; but my heart sank. For even the Wise might fear to withstand the Nine, when they are gathered together under their fell chieftain. A great king and sorcerer he was of old, and now he wields a deadly fear. "Who told you, and who sent you? " I asked.' "Saruman the White," answered Radagast. "And he told me to say that if you feel the need, he will help; but you must seek his aid at once, or it will be too late."
he whispered. "The Nine are abroad again. They have crossed the River secretly and are moving westward. They have taken the guise of riders in black."'I knew then what I had dreaded without knowing it.` "The enemy must have some great need or purpose," said Radagast; "but what it is that makes him look to these distant and desolate parts, I cannot guess."` "What do you mean? " said I.
Tuesday, December 2, 2008
jasper johns Target with Four Faces
jasper johns Target with Four FacesLempicka Andromeda INeiman French ConnectionVillage in spain
PS. Do NOT use It again, not far any reason whatever! Do not travel by night! PPS. Make sure that it is the real Strider. There are many strange men on the roads. His true name is Aragorn. All that is gold does not glitter, Not all those who wander are lost;The old that is strong does not wither, Deep roots are not reached by the frost.From the ashes a fire shall be woken, A light from the shadows shall spring;Renewed shall be blade that was broken, The crownless again shall be king. wanted always buried. If he forgets, I shall roast him.Fare Well!Frodo read the letter to himself, and then passed it to Pippin and Sam. 'Really old Butterbur has made a mess of things!' he said. 'He deserves roasting. If I had got this at once, we might all have been safe in Rivendell by now. But what can have happened to Gandalf? He writes as if he was going into great danger.''He has been doing that for many years,' said Strider.
PPPS. I hope Butterbur sends this promptly. A worthy man, but his memory is like a lumber-roam: thing
PS. Do NOT use It again, not far any reason whatever! Do not travel by night! PPS. Make sure that it is the real Strider. There are many strange men on the roads. His true name is Aragorn. All that is gold does not glitter, Not all those who wander are lost;The old that is strong does not wither, Deep roots are not reached by the frost.From the ashes a fire shall be woken, A light from the shadows shall spring;Renewed shall be blade that was broken, The crownless again shall be king. wanted always buried. If he forgets, I shall roast him.Fare Well!Frodo read the letter to himself, and then passed it to Pippin and Sam. 'Really old Butterbur has made a mess of things!' he said. 'He deserves roasting. If I had got this at once, we might all have been safe in Rivendell by now. But what can have happened to Gandalf? He writes as if he was going into great danger.''He has been doing that for many years,' said Strider.
PPPS. I hope Butterbur sends this promptly. A worthy man, but his memory is like a lumber-roam: thing
Monday, December 1, 2008
Pissarro Village Path
Pissarro Village PathPissarro Village de Voisins 1872Pissarro The Chestnut Trees at OsnyPissarro Sunlight on the Road Pontoise
about them the rain pattered and trickled. They did not talk, but kept glancing back, and from side to side.After half an hour Pippin said: ‘I hope we have not turned too much towards the south, and are not walking longwise through this wood! It is not a very broad belt –I should have said no more than a mile at the widest - and we ought to have been through it by now.’‘It is no good our starting to go in zig-zags,’ said and sheltered. When they came to make their meal, they found that the Elves had filled their bottles with a clear drink, pale golden in colour: it had the scent of a honey made of many flowers, and was wonderfully refreshing. Very soon they were laughing, and snapping their fingers at rain, and at Black Riders. The last few miles, they felt, would soon be behind them.Frodo propped his back against the tree-trunk, and closed his eyes. Sam and Pippin sat near, and they began to hum, and then to sing softly:Ho! Ho! Ho! to the bottle I goFrodo. ‘That won’t mend matters. Let us keep on as we are going! I am not sure that I want to come out into the open yet.’They went on for perhaps another couple of miles. Then the sun gleamed out of ragged clouds again and the rain lessened. It was now past mid-day, and they felt it was high time for lunch. They halted under an elm tree: its leaves though fast turning yellow were still thick, and the ground at its feel was fairly dry
about them the rain pattered and trickled. They did not talk, but kept glancing back, and from side to side.After half an hour Pippin said: ‘I hope we have not turned too much towards the south, and are not walking longwise through this wood! It is not a very broad belt –I should have said no more than a mile at the widest - and we ought to have been through it by now.’‘It is no good our starting to go in zig-zags,’ said and sheltered. When they came to make their meal, they found that the Elves had filled their bottles with a clear drink, pale golden in colour: it had the scent of a honey made of many flowers, and was wonderfully refreshing. Very soon they were laughing, and snapping their fingers at rain, and at Black Riders. The last few miles, they felt, would soon be behind them.Frodo propped his back against the tree-trunk, and closed his eyes. Sam and Pippin sat near, and they began to hum, and then to sing softly:Ho! Ho! Ho! to the bottle I goFrodo. ‘That won’t mend matters. Let us keep on as we are going! I am not sure that I want to come out into the open yet.’They went on for perhaps another couple of miles. Then the sun gleamed out of ragged clouds again and the rain lessened. It was now past mid-day, and they felt it was high time for lunch. They halted under an elm tree: its leaves though fast turning yellow were still thick, and the ground at its feel was fairly dry
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