the la grande odalisque 100222

Jack Vettriano The Last Great Romantic

2009-05-12T22:57:00.000-07:00

Jack Vettriano The Last Great RomanticJack Vettriano The InnocentsJack Vettriano The Great Poet
dwarf. You have to know how to deal with people in this game.'
He came back and sat down beside the Librarian. The ape put a smaller bend in the pipe.
'What're you making?' said Glod.
'Gook‑oook‑OOKpicked up a piece of wood, gripped one end and began to strum.
'Ook?'
'That's right,' said Glod. 'The boy with the guitar.'
‘Eeek.'
The Librarian did a back somersault.
'Oookoook‑ooka‑ooka‑OOOka‑OOK!'
'I can see you're in the swing of it already,' said Glod.!''My cousin Modo is the gardener here,' said Glod. 'He says you're a mean keyboard player.' He stared at the hands, busy in the pipebending. They were big. And of course there were four of them. 'He was certainly partly right,' he added.The ape picked up a length of driftwood and tasted it.‘We thought you might like to play pianoforte with us at the Drum tonight,' said Glod. 'Me and Cliff and Buddy, that is.'The Librarian rolled a brown eye towards him, then

Raphael The Sistine Madonna

2009-05-11T23:35:00.001-07:00

Raphael The Sistine MadonnaWilliam Bouguereau BiblisWilliam Bouguereau Nymphs and Satyr.
up‑market. This was the only available direction.
There had been the Quizzing Device, a three‑ton water‑driven monstrosity based on a recently discovered design by Leonard of any day now. The Librarian, one of the tavern's regulars, had been collecting pennies in readiness.
There was a small stage at one end of the bar. The owner had tried a lunch‑time stripper, but only once. At the sight of a large orang-utan in the front row with a big innocent grin, a big bag of penny pieces and a big banana the poor girl had fled. Yet another entertainment Guild had blacklisted the Drum.
The new owner's name was Hibiscus Dunelm. It wasn't his fault. He really wanted to make the Drum, he said, a fun place. For two pins he'd have put stripy umbrellas Quirm. It had been a bad idea. Captain Carrot of the Watch, who had a mind like a needle under his open smiling face, had surreptitiously substituted a new roll of questions like: Were you nere Vortin's Diamond Warehouse on the Nite of the 15th? and: Who was the Third Man Who did the Blagging At Bearhugger's Distillery Larst wee‑k? and had arrested three customers before they caught on.The owner had promised another machine

Bernhard Gutmann Study of a Woman in Black

2009-05-06T01:12:00.000-07:00

Bernhard Gutmann Study of a Woman in BlackBernhard Gutmann Nude with DraperyPaul Klee The Rose GardenPaul Klee Red BallonPaul Klee Park of Idols
'Don't say anything,' she said. And it might be all right.'
After a while the to himself, had never been quite sure, as it were, where he fitted in.
This was probably not something he was going to write to his parents about. They almost certainly knew.
He slid out of bed. The room was stifling hot with the curtains drawn.
Behind him, he heard Angua roll over into the hollow left bedsprings went glink.And shortly after that, for Corporal Carrot, the Disc-world moved. And didn't even bother to stop to cancel the bread and newspapers. Corporal Carrot awoke around four a.m., that secret hour known only to the night people, such as criminals, policemen and other misfits. He lay on his half of the narrow bed and stared at the wall.It had definitely been an interesting night.Although he was indeed simple, he wasn't stupid, and he'd always been aware of what might be called the mechanics. He'd been acquainted with several young ladies, and had taken them on many invigorating walks to see fascinating ironwork and interesting civic buildings until they'd unaccountably lost interest. He'd patrolled the Whore Pits often enough, although Mrs Palm and the Guild of Seamstresses were trying to persuade the Patrician to rename the area The Street of Negotiable Affection. But he'd never seen them in relation

Salvador Dali Galatea of the Spheres

2009-05-03T23:54:00.000-07:00

Salvador Dali Galatea of the SpheresSalvador Dali GalarinaSalvador Dali Figure at a Window ISalvador Dali Corpus Hypercubus
sergeant and everyone,' said Cuddy.
'No . . . not even them. If d make everyone very . . . jumpy.'
'Just as you say, Corporal Carrot.'
'We're dealing with a sick mind here, men.'
Underground
Vimes dried himself off. Willikins had also laid out a dressing gown with brocade on the sleeves. He put it on, and wandered into his dressing room.
That was another new thing. The rich even had rooms for dressing in, and clothes light dawned on Cuddy.'Ah,' he said. 'You suspect Corporal Nobbs, sir?''This is worse. Come on, let's get back up.' He looked back towards the big pillar-barred cavern. 'Any idea where we are, Cuddy?''Could be under the Palace, sir.''That's what I reckoned. Of course, the tunnels go everywhere . . .'Carrot's worried train of thought faltered away on some distant track.There was water in the sewers, even in this drought. Springs flowed into them, or water filtered down from far above. Everywhere was the drip and splash of water. And cool, cool air.It would almost be pleasant were it not for the sad, hunched corpse of someone that looked for all the world like Beano the clown.

Pierre-Auguste Cot La Tempete

2009-04-28T22:58:00.000-07:00

Pierre-Auguste Cot La TempeteRaphael Saint George and the DragonGeorge Frederick Watts Sir GalahadGeorge Frederick Watts Love And Life
gate slammed shut.
Sergeant Colon turned to Nobby.
'Did exhibit A have a nose, Nobby?'
'Yes, Fred.'to you?' said Colon.
'No. It had a couple of holes in it.'
'Well, I don't know about noses,' said Colon, 'but either Brother Boffo is dead wrong or there's something fishy going on.'
'Like what?'
'Well, Nobby, you're what I might call a career soldier, right?'
' 'S'right, Fred.'
'How many dishonourable discharges have you had?'
'Lots,' said Nobby, proudly. 'But I always puts a poultice on 'em.'
'You've been on a lot of battlefields, ain't you?'
'Dozens.''Then what was that about?''Search me.' Nobby scratched a promising boil. 'P'raps he meant a false nose. You know. Those red ones on elastic? The ones,' said Nobby, grimacing, 'they think are funny. He didn't have one.'Colon rapped on the door, taking care to stand out of the way of any jolly amusing booby traps.The hatch slid aside.'Yes?' hissed Boffo.'Did you mean his false nose?' said Colon.'His real one! Now bugger off!'The hatch snapped back.'Mental,' said Nobby, firmly.'Beano had a real nose. Did it look wrong
Sergeant Colon nodded.

Caravaggio The Lute Player

2009-04-27T23:58:00.000-07:00

Caravaggio The Lute PlayerCaravaggio The Inspiration of Saint MatthewCaravaggio The Fortune Teller
man who said "No More Kings".'
People were staring. Vimes' face went from the red of anger to the red of embarrassment. There was little difference in the shading, however.
'Oh . . . he was Commander of the City Guard in those days,' he mumbled. 'They called him Old Stoneface.'
'Never heard of him,Carrot. A fat old man. Surrounded by lots of children.'
'Oh yes,' said Vimes, carefully. 'He was very fond of children.'
Carrot waved at a couple of dwarfs.
'I didn't know this,' he said. 'I thought there was just some wicked rebellion or something.'
Vimes shrugged. 'It's in the history books, if you know where to look.'
And that was the end of the kings of Ankh-Morpork.'
'Oh, there was a surviving son, I think. And a few mad relatives. They we' said Carrot.'He, er, doesn't appear much in the history books,' said Vimes. 'Sometimes there has to be a civil war, and sometimes, afterwards, it's best to pretend something didn't happen. Sometimes people have to do a job, and then they have to be forgotten. He wielded the axe, you know. No-one else'd do it. It was a king's neck, after all. Kings are,' he spat the word, 'special. Even after they'd seen the . . . private rooms, and cleaned up the . . . bits. Even then. No-one'd clean up the world. But he took the axe and cursed them all and did it.''What king was it?' said Carrot.'Lorenzo the Kind,' said Vimes, distantly.'I've seen his picture in the palace museum,' said

Cao Yong MY BALCONY

2009-04-26T23:05:00.000-07:00

Cao Yong MY BALCONYCao Yong LILY PONDCao Yong KOI PONDCao Yong GIRL WITH MUSICIANCao Yong GARDEN SPLENDOR
She never told me about it,” said Granny, with her usual ability to read Nanny’s expression through the back of her own head.
She leaned closer to Jason, almost hanging from the
plunging beast. “The price for being able to shoe anything,
anything that anyone brings you ... is having to shoe any-
thing anyone brings you. The price for being the best is
always . . . having to be the best. And you pays it, same as
me.”
The unicorn kicked several inches of timber out of the
door just get that forge hot.”
“But if I nail iron to it I’ll—“
“Did I say anything about iron?”
The hom took a stone out of the wall a foot from Jason’s head. He gave in.frame.“But iron—“ said Jason. “And nails—““Yes?”“Iron’11 kill it,” said Jason. “If I nail iron to ‘n, I’ll kill ‘n. Killing’s not part of it. I’ve never killed anything. I was up all night with that ant, it never felt a thing. I won’t hurt a liv-ing thing that never done me no harm.”509Terry Pratchett“Did you get that stuff from my dresser, Gytha?”“Yes, Esme.”“Bring it in here, then. And you, Jason, you

Paul Cezanne Card Players

2009-04-24T01:08:00.000-07:00

Paul Cezanne Card PlayersLaurie Maitland fireWilliam Bouguereau InnocenceBill Brauer The Gold Dress
that opened it up. There must have been a very deli-
cate area of instability very close. It’s hard to describe, but if
you had a rubber sheet and some lead weights I could
demonstrate—“
“You’re trying to tell me those . . . things exist because people believe in them?”
“Oh, no. I Magrat didn’t know much about jungles, but she thought about apes in trees, smelling the rank of the tiger.
Apes never admired the sleek of the fur and the bum of the
eye, because they were too well aware of the teeth of the
mouth.imagine they exist anyway. They’re here because people believe in them here.”“Ook.”“He ran off with us. They shot an arrow at him.”“Eeek.”“But it just made him itch.”“Ook.”“Normally he’s as gentle as a lamb. Really he is.”“Ook.”264LORDS fiNQ Lft0f£6“But he can’t abide elves. They smell wrong to him.”The Librarian flared his nostrils.

Leonardo da Vinci Head of Christ

2009-04-23T00:14:00.000-07:00

Leonardo da Vinci Head of ChristJohn Singer Sargent A Dinner Table at NightLord Frederick Leighton Leighton Winding the Skein
some boxes and cases piled by the bed. So ... a guest room.
The thoughts trickled through the silence of her brain, one after another.
She lady.”
The window was no escape this time. There was the bed to hide under, and that’d work for all of two seconds, wouldn’t it?
Her eye was drawn by some kind of horrible magic back to the room’s garderobe, lurking behind its curtain.
Magrat lifted the lid. The shaft was definitely wide enough to admit a body. Garderobes were notorious in that respect. Several unpopular kings had met their end, as it were, in the garderobe, at the hands of an assassin with good climbing ability, a spear, and a fundamental approach to politics.wondered if they’d sing to her, and if she could stand it again. Maybe if you knew what to expect. ..There was a gentle tap at the door.“We have your friends downstairs, lady. Come dance with me.”LQR06 ftffD LftQ/£6Magrat stared desperately around the room.It was as featureless as guest bedrooms everywhere. Jug and basin on a stand, the horrible garderobe alcove inade-quately concealed behind a curtain, the bed which had a few bags and bundles tossed on it, a battered chair with all the varnish gone and a small square of carpet made gray with age and ground-in dust.The door rattled. “Let me in, sweet

Claude Monet Monet's Garden at argenteuil

2009-04-21T23:27:00.000-07:00

Claude Monet Monet's Garden at argenteuilPaul Gauguin Woman with a FlowerPaul Gauguin The Seed of AreoiPaul Gauguin The Moon and the Earth
, sir.”
“No?”
“My mum says none of us can help how we’re made,”
said Shawn.
“What a singular lady. And what is her name?” said
Ridcully.
“Mrs. Ogg, sir.”
“Ogg? Ogg? Name rings a bell. Any relation to Sobriety
Ogg?”do wonderful breakfasts.” He sniffed again, and beamed.
“Now that” he said, “is what / call fresh air.”“He was my dad, sir.”“Good grief. Old Sobriety’s son? How is the old devil?”“Dunno, sir, what with him being dead.”“Oh dear. How long ago?”“These past thirty years,” said Shawn.“But you don’t look any older than twen—“ Ponder began. Ridcully elbowed him sharply in the ribcage.“This is the countryside,” he hissed. “People do things differently here. And more often.” He turned back to Shawn’s pink and helpful face.“Things seem to be waking up a bit,” he said, and indeed shutters were coming down around the square. “We’ll get some breakfast in the tavern. They used to
Shawn looked around carefully.
“Yes, sir,” he said. “That’s what we call it, too.” ‘ There was the sound of someone frantically running, and then a pause, and King Verence II appeared around the comer, walking slowly and calmly

Leroy Neiman Amphitheatre at Rivera

2009-04-20T00:17:00.000-07:00

Leroy Neiman Amphitheatre at RiveraLeroy Neiman American Stock ExchangeLeroy Neiman 18th at Harbourtown
devil for excusing themselves on the carpet.”
Nanny unearthed the shyest article of Granny Weatherwax’s bedroom crockery and moved it across the rug with her foot.
“I brought you a cup of tea,” she said.
“Good job, too. Mouth tastes of moths,” said Granny.
“Thought you did owls at night?” said Nanny.
“Yeah, but you ends up for days trying to twist your head right round,” said Granny. “At least bats always faces the same way. Tried rabbits first off, but you know what they are for remembering things. Anyway, you know what they thinks about the whole time. They’re famous for it.”
“Grass.”
“Right.”
“Find out anything?” said Nanny
“Half a dozen people have been going up there. Every full moon!” said Granny. “Gels, by the shape of them. You only see said, after a while.
“No, no,” said Nanny. “Borrowing’s a real skill. You’re really good at it.”
“Prideful, that’s what I am. Once upon a time I’d of thought of asking people, too, instead of fooling around being a bat.”
56silhouettes, with bats.”“You done well there,” said Nanny, carefully. “Girls from round here, you reckon?”“Got to be. They ain’t using broomsticks.”Nanny Ogg sighed.“There’s Agnes Nitt, old Threepenny’s daughter,” she said. “And the Tockley girl. And some others.”Granny Weatherwax looked at her with her mouth open.“I asked our Jason,” she said. “Sorry.”The bat burped. Granny genteelly covered her hand with her mouth.“I’m a silly old fool, ain’t I?” she
LOR06 ft/VD Lfi0f£6
“Our Jason wouldn’t have told you

Mark Spain Only You

2009-04-17T00:36:00.000-07:00

Mark Spain Only YouMark Spain Night LightMark Spain Forever You
horse as it was led into the forge, hooves clattering on the stones.
“There’s tea brewing on the forge and our Dreen done us some biscuits in the tin with A Present from Ankh-Morpork on it.”He heard the glug of the teapot and then the gling-glong sound of a spoon being stirred and then the clink as the spoon was laid down.
Never any sound, his dad had said. Except when he walks and talks, you’ll never hear him make THANK YOU. I TRUST YOU ARE WELL.8LORQ6 ftWD Lft0f£6“Yes, m’lord. I done the shoes already. Won’t hold you up long. I know you’re ... very busy, like.”He heard the click-click of footsteps cross the floor to the old kitchen chair reserved for customers, or at least for the owners of customers.Jason had laid the tools and the horseshoes and the nails ready to hand on the bench beside the anvil. He wiped his hands on his apron, picked up a file, and set to work. He didn’t like cold shoeing, but he’d shod horses ever since he was ten. He could do it by feel. He picked up a rasp and set to work.And he had to admit it. It was the most obedient horse he’d ever encountered. Pity he’d never actually seen it. It’d be a pretty good horse, a horse like that. ..His dad had said: don’t try to sneak a look at it.

Thomas Kinkade Christmas Moonlight

2009-04-16T00:18:00.000-07:00

Thomas Kinkade Christmas MoonlightThomas Kinkade Christmas EveningThomas Kinkade Abundant Harvest
bumping along in Brutha's pack, began to feel the acute depression that steals over every realist in the presence of an optimist.
The strained strains of Claws of Iron shall Rend the Ungodly faded away. There was a small rockslide, some way off.
"We're alive," said Brutha.
"For now."
"And we're close to home."
"Yes?"
"I saw a wild goat on the rocks back there."
"There's still a lot
"What? They wouldn't last five minutes. It's a god-eat-god world."
"Perhaps that explains something about the nature of gods. Strength is hereditary. Like sin."
His face clouded.
"Except that . . . it isn't. Sin, I mean. I think, perhaps, whenof 'em about.""Goats?""Gods. And the ones we had back there were the puny ones, mind you.""What do you mean?"Om sighed. "It's reasonable, isn't it? Think about it. The stronger ones hang around the edge, where there's prey . . . I mean, people. The weak ones get pushed out to the sandy places, where people hardly ever go-”"The strong gods," said Brutha, thoughtfully. "Gods that know about being strong.""That's right.""Not gods that know what it feels like to be weak . . ." we get back, I shall talk to some people."
"Oh, and they'll listen, will they?"

Camille Pissarro Place du Theatre Francais

2009-04-15T00:15:00.001-07:00

Camille Pissarro Place du Theatre FrancaisCamille Pissarro Landscape at ChaponvalSir Henry Raeburn Boy And RabbitJean Fragonard Young Girl Reading
sat back.
"What is it you fear?" he said. "Here in your desert, with your . . . gods? Is it not that, deep in your souls, you knowDidactylos.
Although one of the most quoted and popular philosophers of all time, Didactylos the Ephebian never achieved the respect of his fellow philosophers. They felt he wasn't philosopher material. He didn't bathe often enough or, to put it another way, at all. And he philosophized about the wrong sorts of things. And he was interested in the wrong sorts of things. Dangerous things. Other philosophers asked questions like: Is Truth Beauty, and is Beauty Truth? and: is Reality Created by the Observer? But Didactylos posed the famous philosophical conundrum: "Yes, But What's It Really All About, Then, When You Get Right Down To It, I Mean Really!"
His philosophy was a mixture of three famous schools-the Cynics, the Stoics, and the Epicureansand summed up all three of them in his famous phrase, "You can't trust any bugger further than that your gods are as shifting as your sand?""Oh, yes," said the Tyrant. "We know that. That's always been a point in their favor. We know about sand. And your God is a rock-and we know about rock." Om stumped along a cobbled alley, keeping to the shade as much as possible.There seemed to be a lot of courtyards. He paused at the point where the alley opened into yet another of them.There were voices. Mainly there was one voice, petulant and reedy.This was the philosopher

George Bellows Dempsey and Firpo

2009-04-13T23:02:00.000-07:00

George Bellows Dempsey and FirpoCaravaggio The Sacrifice of IsaacCaravaggio The MusiciansCaravaggio St Jerome
tortoise paused. Om searched his fading memory. Then he scratched in the dust with a claw.
"I . . . remember a day . . . summer day . . . you were . . . thirteen . . ."
The dry little voice droned on. Brutha's mouth formed a slowly widening O.
Finally he said, "How did you know that?"
"You believe themade a point of taking a daily walk through some of the lower levels, although of course always at a different time, and via a different route. Insofar as Vorbis got any pleasure in life, at least in any way that could be recognized by a normal human being, it was in seeing the faces of humble members of the clergy as they rounded a corner and found themselves face-to-chin with Deacon Vorbis of the Quisition. There was always that little intake of breath th Great God Om watches everything you do, don't you?""You're a tortoise, you couldn't have-”"When you were almost fourteen, and your grandmother had beaten you for stealing cream from the stillroom, which in fact you had not done, she locked you in your room and you said, 'I wish you were-' " There will be a sign, thought Vorbis. There was always a sign, for the man who watched for them. A wise man always put himself in the path of the God.He strolled through the Citadel. He always at indicated a guilty conscience. Vorbis

Salvador Dali The Great Masturbator

2009-04-13T00:44:00.000-07:00

Salvador Dali The Great MasturbatorSalvador Dali Leda AtomicaJoseph Mallord William Turner The Grand Canal Venice
horse.[25] It was Conina who insisted that they look for Rincewind at the University, and who, therefore, first saw the books.
They were flyingboth by the hand and, walking between them like a sack between two poles, led them across the cobbles to the tower.
There were a few candles alight inside, and they saw Coin seated on a stool. The Librarian bowed them into his presence like an ancient retainer in the oldest family of all, and withdrew.
Coin nodded at them. 'He knows when people don't understand him,' he said. 'Remarkable out of the Tower of Art, spiralling around the University buildings and swooping through the door of the reincarnated Library. One or two of the more impudent grimoires were chasing sparrows, or hovering hawk-like over the quad.The Librarian was leaning against the doorway, watching his charges with a benevolent eye. He waggled his eyebrows at Conina, the nearest he ever got to a conventional greeting.'Is Rincewind here?' she said.'Oook.''Sorry?'The ape didn't answer but took them

Mark Rothko Untitled 1962

2009-04-10T00:24:00.000-07:00

Mark Rothko Untitled 1962Mark Rothko Untitled 1960Mark Rothko Untitled 1949
blossoming at the top into a complexity of turrets and battlements. A swarm of tiles was hovering over it, individual things to his companions. They didn't seem to grasp ideas properly; more particularly, they didn't seem able to get the hang of doom. They suffered from the terrible delusion that something could be done. They seemed prepared to make the world the way they wanted it or die in the attempt, and the trouble with dying in the attempt was that you died in the attempt.
The whole point about the old University organisation was that it kept a sort of peace tiles swooping down and clinking into place like ceramic bees on a bombing run. It was impossibly high - the stones at the bottom would have been crushed if it wasn't for the magic that crackled through them.Well, that was just about it as far as organised wizardry was concerned. Two thousand years of peaceful magic had gone down the drain, the towers were going up again, and with all this new raw magic floating around something was going to get very seriously hurt. Probably the universe. Too much magic could wrap time and space around itself, and that wasn't good news for the kind of person who had grown used to things like effects following things like causes.And, of course, it would be impossible to explain

Johannes Vermeer Lady Standing at a Virginal

2009-04-09T01:22:00.000-07:00

Johannes Vermeer Lady Standing at a VirginalJohannes Vermeer A Lady Writing a LetterUnknown Artist Wooded Landscape
'But you agreed that we should get the hat!'
'But not die a particularly stubborn member of the junior Chamber of Commerce, 'I've had a lot of practice. For the last time, I don't want to buy anyone, you wretched child!'
He looked gloomily at the walls around them. At least there weren't any of those disturbing pictures here, but the hot breeze still blew the dust around him and he was sick and tired of looking at sand. What he wanted was a couple of cool beers, a cold bath and a change of clothing; it probably wouldn't make him feel better, but it would at least make feeling awful more enjoyablein the process,' said Rincewind, wretchedly. 'That won't do anyone any good. Not me, anyway.''My father always said that death is but a sleep,' said Conina.'Yes, the hat told me that,' said Rincewind, as they turned down a narrow, crowded street between white adobe walls. 'But the way I see it, it's a lot harder to get up in the morning.''Look,' said Conina, 'there's not much risk. You're with me.''Yes, and you're looking forward to it, aren't you,' said Rincewind accusingly, as Conina piloted them along a shady alley, with their retinue of pubescent entrepreneurs at their heels. 'It's the old herrydeterry at work.''Just shut up and try to look like a victim, will you?''I can do that all right,' said Rincewind, beating off

Titian Emperor Charles

2009-04-08T01:32:00.000-07:00

Titian Emperor CharlesBartolome Esteban Murillo The Little Fruit SellerFilippino Lippi The Marriage of St Catherine
Luggage, of course, followed them with a noise like someone tapdancing over a bag of crisps.
And so, forcing the Luggage to go all the way around to the gates anyway, because otherwise it'd only batter a hole in the dropped lightly into the University grounds and ran soundlessly towards the Great Hall, where it was soon lost in the shadows.
No-one would have noticed it anyway. On the other side of the campus the Sourcerer was walking towards the gates of the University. Where his feet touched the cobbles blue sparks crackled and evaporated the early evening dew.
wall, Rincewind quit the University with all the other insects and small frightened rodents and decided that if a few quiet beers wouldn't allow him to see things in a different light, then a few more probably would. It was certainly worth a try.That was why he wasn't present in the Great Hall for dinner. It would turn out to be the most important missed meal of his life. Further along the University wall there was a faint clink as a grapnel caught the spikes that lined its top. A moment later a slim, black-clad figure

Cassius Marcellus Coolidge A Bold Bluff

2009-04-06T00:41:00.001-07:00

Cassius Marcellus Coolidge A Bold BluffEdvard Munch NudeEdvard Munch Moonlight
standing so still among the potted plants and fountains that Windle passed them at first, assuming that they were some sort of statue or piece of esoteric furniture.
The mystery. The wizards certainly didn’t look very secure.
Windle snapped his fingers in front of the Dean’s pale eyes. There was no response.
‘He’s not dead,’ said Reg.
‘Just resting,’ said Windle. ‘Switched off.’
Reg gave the Dean a push. The wizard tottered forward, and then staggered Archchancellor had a false red nose and was holding some balloons. Beside him, the Bursar was juggling coloured balls, but like a machine, his eyes staring blankly at nothing.The Senior Wrangler was standing a little way off, wearing a pair of sandwich boards. The writing on them hadn’t fully ripened yet, but Windle would have bet his afterlife that it would eventually say something like SALE ! ! ! !The other wizards were clustered together like dolls whose clockwork hadn’t been wound up. Each one had a large oblong badge on his robe. The familiar organic-looking writing was growing into a word that looked like: I K Yalthough why it was doing so was a complete

Henri Rousseau The Snake Charmer

2009-04-02T23:28:00.000-07:00

Henri Rousseau The Snake CharmerHenri Rousseau The DreamPaul Cezanne Mount Sainte Victoire
Door paused at the top of the stairs.
SHE IS LIVING ON BORROWED TIME, he said.

There was an old forge behind the barn. It hadn’t been used for years. But now red and yellow light spilled out into the yard, pulsing like a heart. And like a heart, there was a regular thumping. With every crash the light flared blue.
Miss Flitworth He looked at it blankly.
IT’S JUST AS BLUNT AT NIGHT, MISS FLITWORTH.
Then he slammed it down on the anvil.
AND I CAN’T SHARPEN IT ENOUGH!
‘I think perhaps the heat has got to you,’ she said, and reached out and took his armsidled through the open doorway. If she was the kind of person who would swear, she would have sworn that she made no noise that could possibly be heard above the crackle of the fire and the hammering, but Bill Door spun around in a halfcrouch, holding a curved blade in front of him. ‘It’s me!’He relaxed, or at least moved into a different level of tension.‘What the hell’re you doing?’He looked at the blade in his hands as if he was seeing it for the first time.I THOUGHT I WOULD SHARPEN THIS SCYTHE, MISS FLITWORTH.‘At one o’clock in the morning?’

Frida Kahlo My Dress Hangs There

2009-04-02T00:50:00.000-07:00

Frida Kahlo My Dress Hangs ThereFrida Kahlo Diego and IDouglas Hofmann Model
No, ‘ said Arthur, ‘by a lawyer. I got this letter, see? With a posh blob of wax on it and everything. Blahblah-blah . . . great-great-uncle . . . blahblahblah . . . only surviving relative . . . blahblahblah . . . may we be the first to offer our , dropping a portcullis into that
avenue of conversation.’I should have known even before we went to look at
it. So I turned the carriage around, right? I thought, well, that’s four days
wasted, right in the middle of our busy season. I don’t think any more about heartiest . . . blahblahblah. One minute I’m Arthur Winkings, a coming man in the wholesale fruit and vegetable business, next minute I find I’m Arthur, Count Notfaroutoe, owner of fifty acres of cliff face a goat’d fall off of and a castle that even the cockroaches have abandoned and an invitation from the burgomaster to drop in down at the village one day and discuss three hundred years of back taxes.’‘I hate lawyers, ‘ said the voice from under the chair. It had a sad, hollow sound. Windle tried to move his legs a little closer to his own chair. ‘It voss quite a good castle, ‘ said Doreen.‘A bloody heap of mouldering stone is what it was,’ said Arthur.‘It had nice views.’‘Yeah, through every wall, ‘ said Arthur

Franz Marc Affenfries

2009-04-01T00:24:00.000-07:00

Franz Marc AffenfriesGarmash Sleeping BeautyMarc Chagall The Wedding CandlesMarc Chagall The Cattle DealerMarc Chagall Lovers in the Moonlight
clapped his spiritual hands and rubbed them together with forced enthusiasm.
‘Get a move on. Some of us have got new lives to go to,’ he said. The darkness remained inert. There was no shape, no sound. It was void, without form. The spirit of Windle Poons moved on the face of the darkness. It shook its head.’Blow this for a lark,’ it muttered.’This isn’t right at all.’ It hung around for a while and then, see the point of believing, of going around saying, ‘O great table, without whom we are as naught’.
Anyway, either the gods are there whether you believe or not, or exist only as
a function of the belief, so either way you might as well ignore thebecause there didn’t seem anything else for it, headed for the only home it had ever known. It was a home he’d occupied for one hundred and thirty years. It wasn’t expecting him back and put up a lot of resistance. You either had to be very determined or very powerful to overcome that sort of thing, but Windle Poons had been a wizard for more than a century. Besides, it was like breaking into your own house, the old familiar property that you’d lived in for years. You knew where the metaphorical window was that didn’t shut properly.In short, Windle Poons went back to Windle Poons.Wizards don’t believe in gods in the same way that most people don’t find it necessary to believe in, say, tables. They know they’re there, they know they’re there for a purpose, they’d probably agree that they have a place in a well-organised universe, but they wouldn’t

Jean-Honore Fragonard l'aurore

2009-03-31T00:41:00.000-07:00

Jean-Honore Fragonard l'auroreJean-Honore Fragonard Cephale et ProcrisEdgar Degas DancerWilliam Beard So You Wanna Get MarriedWilliam Beard Phantom Crane
Wouldn’t like to have their cleaning bill,’ said Poons.
The Lecturer in Recent Runes nudged the Chair heavily in the ribs, or at least at the point where the ribs were overlaid by the strata of fifty years of very good dinners.
‘Quiet!’ he hissed. ‘They’re coming!’
‘Who?’
‘Someone important, by the look of it.’
The Chair’s self‑importance that he appeared to be floating across the ground, bobbed towards the carriage door and opened it.
The crowd held its collective breath, except for a small part of it that hit surrounding people with its stick and muttered, ‘What’s happening? What’s going on? Why won’t anyone tell me what’s happening? I demand someone tell me, mm, what’s happening?’

The door stayed shut. Ginger was gripping the handle as if it was a lifeline.face creased in panic behind his false real beard. ‘You don’t think they’ve invited the Archchancellor, do you?’The wizards tried to shrink inside their robes, like upright turtles.In fact it was a far more impressive coach than any of the crumbling items in the University’s mews. The crowd surged forward against the line of trolls and city guards and stared expectantly at the carriage door; the very air hummed with anticipation.Mr Bezam, his chest so inflated with
‘There’s thousands of them out there!’ said Ginger. ‘I can’t go out there!’

Salvador Dali Galatea of the Spheres

2009-03-30T00:04:00.000-07:00

Salvador Dali Galatea of the SpheresSalvador Dali GalarinaSalvador Dali Figure at a Window ISalvador Dali Corpus HypercubusVincent van Gogh View of Arles with Irises I
didn’t need any special mysterious animal instincts here. Perfectly generalized everyday instincts were enough to horrify him. There was something dreadful on the other side of the door.
She was , or the realization that today is the Monday which on Friday night was a comfortably long way off. A dog’s wet nose is not strictly speaking the worst of the bunch, but it has its own peculiar dreadfulness which connoisseurs of the ghastly and dog owners everywhere have come to know and dread. It’s like having a small piece of defrosting liver pressed lovingly against you. trying to let it out. He had to wake her up. Biting wasn’t really a good idea. His teeth weren’t that good these days. He doubted very much if barking would be any better. That left one alternative . . . The sand moved eerily under his paws; maybe it was dreaming of being rocks. The scrawny trees around the hollow were wrapped in sequoia fantasies. Even the air that curled around Gaspode’s bullet head moved sluggishly, although it’s anyone’s guess what the air dreams about. Gaspode trotted up to Ginger and pushed his nose against her leg. The universe contains any amount of horrible ways to be woken up, such as the noise of the mob breaking down the front door, the scream of fire engines

Andrea Mantegna Samson and Delilah

2009-03-26T23:47:00.000-07:00

Andrea Mantegna Samson and DelilahAndrea Mantegna Adoration of the ShepherdsAndrea Mantegna Adoration of the MagiThomas Moran Entrance to the Grand Canal, VeniceJean Francois Millet The Walk to Work
metamorphoses beyond the reach of alchemists, and turned mere boring elements into pure light.
Over Ankh-Morpork, it just rained.
The senior wizards crowded around the elephant vase. It had been put back in the corridor on Ridcully’s strict peering closely, ‘is actually quite an old Ming vase.’
He waited expectantly.
‘Why’s it called Ming?’ said the Archchancellor, on cue.
The Bursar tapped the pot. It went ming.
‘And they spit lead balls at people, do they?’ said Ridcully. orders. ‘I remember Riktor,’ said the Dean. ‘Skinny man. Bit of a one-track mind. But clever.’ ‘Heh, heh. I remember his mouse counter,’ said Windle Poons, from his ancient wheelchair. ‘Used to count mice.’ ‘The pot itself is quite–’ the Bursar began, and then said, ‘What d’you mean, count mice? They were fed into it on a little belt or something?’ ‘Oh, no. You just wound it up, y’see, and it sat there whirring away, counting all the mice in the building, mm, and these little wheels with numbers on them came up.’ ‘Why?’ ‘Mm? I s’pose he just wanted to count mice.’ The Bursar shrugged. ‘This pot’, he said,

Johannes Vermeer Young Woman with a Water Jug

2009-03-25T20:42:00.000-07:00

Johannes Vermeer Young Woman with a Water JugJohannes Vermeer The ProcuressJohannes Vermeer Diana and her CompanionsJohannes Vermeer Christ in the House of Mary and MarthaUnknown Artist warmth by volk
Something emerged. Something invisible. Something joyful and selfish and marvellous. Something as intangible as an idea, which is exactly what it was. A wild idea.
It was old
There’s a saying that all roads lead to Ankh-Morpork, greatest of Discworld cities.
At least, there’s a saying that there’s a saying that all roads lead to Ankh-Morpork.
And it’s wrong. All roads lead away from Ankh-Morpork, but sometimes people just walk along them the wrong way. in a way not measurable by any calendar known to Man and what it had, right now, was memories and needs. It remembered life, in other times and other universes. It needed people. It rose against the stars, changing shape, coiling like smoke. There were lights on the horizon. It liked lights. It regarded them for a few seconds and then, like an invisible arrow, extended itself towards the city and sped away. It liked action, too . . . And several weeks went past.

Edvard Munch Puberty 1894

2009-03-24T01:09:00.000-07:00

Edvard Munch Puberty 1894Unknown Artist Heighton After HoursUnknown Artist Brent Lynch Evening LoungeUnknown Artist Paris Eiffel TowerPaul Klee Zitronen
we'll leap out and put them to the sword. Or put the sword to them. One or the other. And then we'll sack the city, bum the walls and sow the ground with salt. You remember, lad, I showed you on Friday.'
'Oh.'
Moisture dripped from a score of brows. Several of the men were trying to compose a letter home, dragging styli across wax that was close to melting.
'And then what will happen, sergeant?'
'Why, lad, then we'll go home heroes.'
'Oh.'
The older soldiers sat stolidly looking at the wooden walls. Autocue shifted uneasily, still worried about something.
'My mum said to come back with my shield or on it, sergeant,' he said.
'Jolly good, lad. That's the spirit.'
'We will be all right, though. Won't we, sergeant?'
The -man band.
Ptaclusp nodded, unable to speak. He had had enough shocks for one day.
'Well, switch it off. Switch it off now.'
IIb leaned over.sergeant stared into the fetid darkness. After a while, someone started to play the harmonica. Ptaclusp half-turned his head from the scene and a voice by his ear said, 'You're the pyramid builder, aren't you?' Another figure had joined them in their bolthole, one who was black-clad and moved in a way that made a cat's tread sound like a one
'Who're you?' he said.
'My name is Teppic.'
'What, like the king?'

William Blake Jacob's Ladder

2009-03-20T23:29:00.000-07:00

William Blake Jacob's LadderVincent van Gogh The Olive TreesVincent van Gogh Fishing in SpringUnknown Artist Ranson Apple Tree with Red FruitUnknown Artist Spring is in the Air
that will be the standard model, shall we say, O water in the desert?'
Teppic looked at Dios, who was standing and glaring at nothing now, staring the bulldogs of Entropy into submission bythe greatest of monuments is erected for your father,' said Dios smoothly. This was a contest, Teppic knew, and he didn't know the rules or how to play and he was going to lose.
'It is? Oh. Yes. Yes. I suppose it is, really. Yes.'
'A pyramid unequalled along the Djel,' said Dios. 'That is the command of the king. It is only right and willpower alone. 'I think something larger,' he ventured hopelessly. 'That's the Executive,' said Ptaclusp. 'Very exclusive, O base of the eternal column. Last you a perpetuality. Also our special offer this aeon is various measurements of paracosmic significance built into the very fabric at no extra cost.' He gave Teppic an expectant look. 'Yes. Yes. That will be fine,' said Teppic. Dios took a deep breath. 'The king requires far more than that,' be said. 'I do?' said Teppic, doubtfully. 'Indeed, sire. It is your express wish that

Cao Yong Freedom

2009-03-18T23:27:00.000-07:00

Cao Yong FreedomCao Yong Day of LoveCao Yong cao yong Red UmbrellaDiego Rivera View of ToledoDiego Rivera Motherhood Angelina and the Child Diego
duke made an unsuccessful attempt to float through a wall, gave up, and opened a door out on to a crumbling section of the battlements. The storm had died away a bit, and a thin rind of moon lurked behind the clouds like anon-existent particles of glowing metal on the edge of his scythe blade, than that he was waist-deep in the foaming, rock-toothed waters in the depths of Lancre gorge, his calcareous gaze sweeping downwards and stopping abruptly at a point where the torrent ran a few tre ticket tout for eternity.Death stalked through the wall behind him.'Well then,' said the duke, 'if I'm not dead, why are you here?'He jumped up on to the wall and flapped his sheet.WAITING.'Wait forever, bone face!' said the duke triumphantly. 'I shall hover in the twilight world, I shall find some chains to shake, I shall—'He stepped backwards, lost his balance, landed heavily on the wall and slid. For a moment the remnant of his right hand scrabbled ineffectually at the stonework, and then it vanished.Death is obviously potentially everywhere at the same time, and in one sense it is no more true to say that he was on the battlements, picking vaguely at acherous inches over a bed of angular pebbles.

Andy Warhol One Blue Pussy

2009-03-17T22:07:00.000-07:00

Andy Warhol One Blue PussyAndy Warhol MarilynAndy Warhol Flowers Red 1964Andy Warhol Fiesta PigAndy Warhol dollar sign black and yellow on red
'Fifteen years into the future?'
'Yes.'
Nanny looked at Granny's broomstick. It was a well-made thing, built to last, apart from the occasional starting problem. But there were limits.
'You'll 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.
He cursed himself under his breath. It would have been easy to take this wretched creature back to Nanny Ogg's house, which was only a few streets away, almost in the shadow of the castle. But then never do it,' she said. 'Not around the whole kingdom in that. That's all the way up to Powderknife and down to 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 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

Les Vins Rouges

2009-03-16T23:20:00.000-07:00

Les Vins RougesUnknown Artist Les Vins BlancsGeorge Stubbs Horse Attacked by a LionSalvador Dali The Land of Milk and HoneyCaravaggio Sick Bacchus
'Thank you,' said Magrat sweetly. 'Would you like an apple?'
'No, thanks. I haven't finished the one the other witch gave me.' His eyes rolled. 'Not a witch. Not a witch, an apple Great Hall, empty and deserted at this time of day except for a couple of guards who were playing dice. They wore the tabards of Felmet's own personal bodyguard, and stopped their game as soon as she appeared.
'Well, well,' said one, leering. 'Come to keep us company have you, my
'I was looking for the dungeons,' said Magrat, to whom the words 'sexual harassment' were a mere collection of syllables.seller An apple seller. She ought to know.''How long ago was this?''Just a few minutes . . .'Granny Weatherwax was not lost. She wasn't the kind of person who ever became lost. It was just that, at the moment, while she knew exactly where SHE was, she didn't know the position of anywhere else. Currently she had arrived in the kitchens again, precipitating a breakdown in the cook, who was trying to roast some celery. The fact that several people had tried to buy apples from her wasn't improving her temper.Magrat found her way to the

John William Waterhouse The Siren

2009-03-15T22:11:00.000-07:00

John William Waterhouse The SirenJohn William Waterhouse The Lady ClareJohn William Waterhouse FloraJohn William Waterhouse Circe offering the Cup to UlyssesJohn William Waterhouse Boreas
NO PREMONITIONS? STRANGE DREAMS? MAD OLD SOOTHSAYERS SHOUTING THINGS AT YOU IN THE STREET?
'About what? Dying?'
NO, I SUPPOSE NOT. IT WOULD BE TOO MUCH TO EXPECT, said Death sourly. THEY LEAVE IT ALL TO ME.
'Who do?' said.
'No.'
THEN I SHOULDN'T BOTHER, IF I WERE YOU. Death pulled an hour-glass from the recesses of his dark robe and inspected it closely.
AND NOW I REALLY MUST BE GOING, he said. He turnedsaid Verence, mystified.FATE. DESTINY. ALL THE REST OF THEM. Death laid a hand on the king's shoulder. THE FACT IS, I'M AFRAID, YOU'RE DUE TO BECOME A GHOST.'Oh.' He looked down at his . . . body, which seemed solid enough. Then someone walked through him.DON'T LET IT UPSET YOU.Verence watched his own stiff corpse being carried reverentially from the hall.'I'll try,' he said.GOOD MAN.'I don't think I will be up to all that business with the white sheets and the chains, though,' he said. 'Do I have to walk around moaning and screaming?'Death shrugged. DO YOU WANT TO? he

Andy Warhol Basket of Flowers

2009-03-12T22:58:00.000-07:00

Andy Warhol Basket of FlowersNicolas De Stael Sky in HonfleurNicolas De Stael Noon Landscape
circle, they'd simply been discouraged from growing there. Or had moved away.
Candlelight spilled from one downstairs window, making a pale orange pool on the snow.
Binky touched by the door. It had a note attached, written in big, slightly shaky capitals: FOR THEE HORS.
It would have worried Mort if he'd let it. Someone was expecting him. He'd learned in recent days, though, that rather than drown in uncertainty it was best to surf right over the top of it. Anyway, Binky wasn't worried by moral scruples and bit straight in.down smoothly and trotted across the freezing crust without sinking. He left no hoofprints, of course.Mort dismounted and walked towards the door, muttering to himself and making experimental sweeps with the scythe.The cottage roof had been built with wide eaves, to shed snow and cover the logpile. No dweller in the high Ramtops would dream of starting a winter without a logpile on three sides of the house. But there wasn't a logpile here, even though spring was still a long way off.There was, however, a bundle of hay in a net

Thomas Kinkade Dawson

2009-03-11T20:19:00.000-07:00

Thomas Kinkade DawsonThomas Kinkade CourageThomas Kinkade City by the Bay
the scythe.
The cottage roof had been built with wide eaves, to shed snow and cover the logpile. No dweller in the high Ramtops would So he lifted the thumb latch and pushed at the door. It swung inwards quite easily, without a creak.
There was a low-ceilinged kitchen, its beams at trepanning height for Mort. The light from the solitary candle glinted off crockery on a long dresser and flagstones that had been scrubbed and polished into iridescence. The fire in the cave-like inglenook didn't add much light, because dream of starting a winter without a logpile on three sides of the house. But there wasn't a logpile here, even though spring was still a long way off.There was, however, a bundle of hay in a net by the door. It had a note attached, written in big, slightly shaky capitals: FOR THEE HORS.It would have worried Mort if he'd let it. Someone was expecting him. He'd learned in recent days, though, that rather than drown in uncertainty it was best to surf right over the top of it. Anyway, Binky wasn't worried by moral scruples and bit straight in.It did leave the problem of whether to knock. Somehow, it didn't seem appropriate. Supposing no-one answered, or told him to go away?

Gustav Klimt Hope

2009-03-11T00:05:00.000-07:00

Gustav Klimt HopePierre-Auguste Cot The StormClaude Monet Impression Sunrise
Death waved a bony hand. There was a wash of purple light, a sort of visible 'pop', and Lezek unfroze. Above his head the clockwork automatons got on with the job of proclaiming midnight, as Time was allowed to come creeping back.
Lezek blinked.
'Didn't see you there for a minute,' he said. 'Sorry – mind must have been elsewhere.'
I WAS OFFERING YOUR BOY A POSITION, Said Death. I TRUST THAT MEETS WITH YOUR APPROVAL?
'What was your job again?' said Lezek, talking to a black-robed skeleton without showing even a flicker of surpriseTHE SEA TO THE HEIGHTS WHERE EVEN THE EAGLE MAY NOT GO, said Death.
'That's fair enough,' nodded Lezek. 'Well, I —'
'Dad —' said Mort, pulling at his father's coat..I USHER SOULS INTO THE NEXT WORLD, Said Death.'Ah,' said BEEN GOING FOR SOME TIME, YES, said Death.'Good. Good. Never really thought of it as a job for Mort, you know, but it's good work, good work, always very reliable. What's your name?'DEATH.'Dad —' said Mort urgently.'Can't say I recognise the firm,' said Lezek. 'Where are you based exactly?'FROM THE UTTERMOST DEPTHS OF

Paul Gauguin Spirit of the Dead Watching

2009-03-09T22:54:00.000-07:00

Paul Gauguin Spirit of the Dead WatchingPaul Gauguin Hail MaryHenri Matisse Woman with a Hat
(Esk could get to grips with this. She had half-suspected it ever since she cleaned out the senior wizards' lavatory, or ratherwhile the staff got on with the job while Esk examined the urinals and, with the assistance of some half-remembered details of her brothers in the tin bath to Esk to be getting excited at some very silly sentences. Then the chalk would start again, curving across the darkness like a comet, trailing its dust behind it.
The light was fading out of the sky outside. As the room grew more gloomy the chalked words glowed and the blackboard appeared to Esk to be not so much dark as simply not there at all, but just a square hole cut out of the world.Theory of comparative anatomy. The senior wizards' lavatory was a magical place, with real running water and interesting tiles and, most importantly, two big silver mirrors fixed to opposite walls so that someone looking into one could see themselves repeated again and again until the image was too small to see. It was Esk's first introduction to the idea of infinity. More to the point, she had a suspicion that one of the mirror Esks, right on the edge of sight, was waving at her.) There was something disturbing about the phrases Simon used. Half the time he seemed to be saying that the world was about as real as a soap bubble, or a dream. The chalk shrieked its way across the board behind

Gustav Klimt The Fulfillment (detail I)

2009-03-09T01:53:00.000-07:00

Gustav Klimt The Fulfillment (detail I)Gustav Klimt The Embrace (detail_ square)Gustav Klimt Schloss Kammer Am Attersee II
professions paid goblins to hit small ceremonial anvils, just to maintain the correct dwarvish image.
The broomstick lay between two trestles. Granny Weatherwax sat on a rock outcrop while a dwarf half her height, wearing an apron that was a mass of pockets, walked around the broom and occasionally poked it.
Eventually he kicked the bristles and gave a long intake of breath, a sort of reverse whistle, which is the secret sign "As for repair," he said, "well, I don't know about repair. Rebuild, maybe. Of course, it's hard to get the bristles these days even if you can find people to do the proper binding, and the spells need -"
"I don't want it rebuilt, I just want it to work properly," said Granny.
"It's an early model, you see," the dwarf plugged on. "Very tricky, those early models. You can't get the wood -"of craftsmen across the universe and means that something expensive is about to happen. "Weellll," he said. "I could get the apprentices in to look at this, I could. It's an education in itself. And you say it actually managed to get airborne?" "It flew like a bird," said Granny. The dwarf lit a pipe. "I should very much like to see that bird," he said reflectively. "I should imagine it's quite something to watch, a bird like that." "Yes, but can you repair it?" said Granny. "I'm in a hurry."The dwarf sat down, slowly and deliberately.

John William Waterhouse Waterhouse Narcissus

2009-03-06T00:04:00.001-08:00

John William Waterhouse Waterhouse NarcissusJohn William Waterhouse The Lady of ShalottJohn William Waterhouse waterhouse Ophelia
Granny looked down at Esk's silent form. The girl was light enough, but it was a the afternoon was dwindling.
"Drat," she said, with no particular emphasis. She stood up, brushed herself down and, with a grunt of effort, hauled Esk's inert body over her shoulder.
High in the crystal sunset air above the mountains the eagle Esk sought more height, drunk with the sheer vitality of flight.
On the candle had long burned down and Esk was still sleeping the shallow, unwakable sleep of the Borrower.
When she took the goats out to their paddock she looked intently at the sky.
Noon came, and gradually the light drained out of another day. She paced the floor of the kitchen the way a hungry bear. Granny's back was giving her gyp, and she was in no mood to be growled at. She muttered a few words under her breath and the bear, to its brief amazement, walked heavily into a tree and didn't regain consciousness for several hours. When she reached the cottage Granny put Esk's body to bed and drew up the fire. She brought the goats in and milked them, and finished the chores of the evening. She made sure all the windows were open and, when it began to grow dark, lit a lantern and put it on the windowsill. Granny Weatherwax didn't sleep more than a few hours a night, as a rule, and woke again at midnight. The room hadn't changed, although the lantern had its own little solar system of very stupid moths. When she woke again at dawn

Leroy Neiman Amphitheatre at Rivera

2009-03-05T01:13:00.000-08:00

Leroy Neiman Amphitheatre at RiveraLeroy Neiman American Stock ExchangeLeroy Neiman 18th at HarbourtownLeroy Neiman 16th at Augusta
know this thing, trust me. Anyway, would you rather be left with all these star people? They might be interested in having a talk with you.'
Cohen sidled over to the Luggage, and then flung himself astride it. It took no notice.
'Hurry up,' he said. 'I think it's going to go.'
Lackjaw shrugged, and climbed on gingerly behind Cohen.
'Oh?' he said, 'and how does it g —'

Ankh-Morpork!
Pearl of cities!
This is not a completely accurate description, of course – it was not round and shiny – but even its worst enemies to enjoy it on a really good day. They puff out their cheeks and slap their chests and comment cheerfully on its little distinctive nuances. They have even put up a statue to it, to commemorate the time when the troops of a rival state tried to invade by stealth one dark night and managed to get to the top of the walls before, to their horror, their nose plugs gave out. Rich

Francois Boucher Adoration of the Shepherds

2009-03-03T22:14:00.000-08:00

Francois Boucher Adoration of the ShepherdsGustave Courbet The Origin of the WorldThomas Kinkade Symbols of FreedomThomas Kinkade CHRISTMAS AT THE AHWAHNEE
eyes focused on them. His lips moved soundlessly.
'That was a really strange . . . dream,' he said. 'What's this place? Why am I here?'
'Well,' said Cohen, 'sthe Creator of the Univershe took a handful of clay and —'
'No, I mean here,' said Twoflower. 'Is that you, Rincewind?'
'Yes,' said Rincewind, giving it the benefit of the doubt.
'There was this . . . a clock that . . . and these people who . . .' said Twoflower. He shook his head. 'Why does everything smell of horses?'
'You've been ill,' said Rincewind. 'Hallucinating.'
'Yes . . . I .suppose I was.' Twoflower looked down at his chest. 'But in that case, why have I—' Rincewind jumped to his feet.'Sorry, very close in here, got to have a breath of fresh air,' he said. He removed the picture box's strap from Twoflower's neck, and dashed for the tent flap.'I didn't notice that when he came in,' said Bethan. Cohen shrugged.Rincewind managed to get a few yards from the yurt efore the ratchet of the picture box began to click. Very slowly, the box extruded the last picture that the imp had taken.Rincewind snatched at it.What it showed would have been quite horrible even in broad daylight. By freezing starlight, tinted red with the fires of the evil new star, it was a lot worse
'No,' said Rincewind softly. 'No, it wasn't like that, there was a house, and this girl, and . . .'
'You see what you see and I paint what I see,' said the imp from its hatch. 'What I see is real. I was bred for it. I only see what's really there.'

Albert Bierstadt A Quiet lake

2009-03-02T21:47:00.000-08:00

Albert Bierstadt A Quiet lakeFabian Perez Waiting for the romance to comeFabian Perez Waiting For the Romance to Come Back IIFabian Perez Venice
him. Daft old—'
'I heard that!' snapped Spold, 'You young people—' He stopped. Death was looking at him thoughtfully, as if he was trying to remember his face.
'Look,' said Galder, 'just repeat that bit again, will you? The Disc will be what?'
DESTROYED, said Death. CAN I GO NOW? I LEFT MY DRINK.
'Hang on,' said Galder hurriedly. 'By Cheliliki and Orizone and so forth, what do you mean, destroyed?'
IT'S AN ANCIENT PROPHECY WRITTEN ON THE INNER WALLS OF THE GREAT PYRAMID OF TSORT. THE WORD DESTROYED SEEMS QUITE SELF-EXPLANATORY TO ME.
'That's all you can tell us?'
YES.
'But Galder nodded distractedly. He had been thinking wistfully of the banishment ritual, which started 'Begone, foul shade' and had some rather impressive passages which he had been practising, but somehow he couldn't work up any enthusiasm.
'Oh, yes,' he said. Thank you, yes.' And then, because it's as wellHogswatchnight is only two months away!'YES.'At least you can tell us where Rincewind is now!' Death shrugged. It was a gesture he was particularly well built for.THE FOREST OF SKUND, RIMWARDS OF THE RAMTOP MOUNTAINS.What is he doing there?'FEELING VERY SORRY FOR HIMSELF.'Oh.'NOW MAY I GO?

Talantbek Chekirov Tender Passion

2009-03-02T00:33:00.000-08:00

Talantbek Chekirov Tender PassionTalantbek Chekirov Missing YouTalantbek Chekirov Embrace in ParisTalantbek Chekirov Close Encounter
tongues, of course," he added.
"Are you awake?"
Twoflower snored on. Rincewind jabbed him viciously in the ribs.
"I said, are you awake?" he snarled.
". "This is a rough universe."
He rummaged through the piles around the walls and selected a heavy, wavy-bladed scimitar that had probably been some pirate's pride and joy. It looked the sort of weapon that relied as much on its weight as its edge to cause damage. He raised it awkwardly.Scrdfngh...""We've got to get out of here before this salvage fleet comes!" The dishwater light of dawn oozed through the shack's one window, slopping across the piles of salvaged boxes and bundles that were strewn around the interior. Twoflower grunted again and tried to burrow into the pile of furs and blankets that Tethis had given them."Look, there's all kinds of weapons and stuff in here," said Rincewind. "He's gone out somewhere. When he comes back we could overpower him and- and- well, then we can think of something. How about it?""That doesn't sound like a very good idea," said Twoflower. "Anyhow, it's a bit ungracious isn't it?""Tough buns," snapped Rincewind

Henri Rousseau war

2009-02-26T23:23:00.000-08:00

Henri Rousseau warHenri Rousseau Two Monkeys in the JungleHenri Rousseau The WaterfallHenri Rousseau The Repast of the Lion
touched only the tip of the proverbial iceberg, it is important to acknowledge their efforts and agency, along with the simple fact that these communities, despite their grinding poverty, have valuable lives, warmth, generosity, and a resourcefulness that stretches far beyond the haphazard and purely individualistic, Darwinian sort spaces. The most recent is the "Dharavi Redevelopment Project" (DRP), which proposes to convert the slums into blocks of residential and commercial high rises. The DRP requires private developers to provide small flats (of about 250 sq. ft. each) to families that can prove they settled in Dharavi before the year 2000. In return for re-housing rportrayed in the film.Indeed, the failure to recognize this fact has already led to a great deal of damage. Government bureaucrats have concocted many ham-handed, top-down plans for "developing" the slums based on the dangerous assumption that these are worthless esidents, the developers obtain construction rights in Dharavi.

Thomas Cole Home in the Woods

2009-02-25T22:14:00.000-08:00

Thomas Cole Home in the WoodsPierre Auguste Renoir At The TheatrePierre Auguste Renoir The Large BathersAlexandre Cabanel Phedre
Only to people!" shouted Rincewind. He drew his sword and, with a smooth overarm throw, completely failed to hit the troll. The blade plunged on into the heather at the side of the track.
There was thetrees at the roadside. The troll spun around and made a grab for Rincewind.
Then its sluggish nervous system brought it the message that it was dead. It looked surprised for a moment, and then toppled over and shattered into gravel (trolls being, their bodies reverted instantly to stone at the moment of death).
"Aaargh," thought Rincewind as his horse reared in terror. He hung on desperately as it staggered two-legged across the road and then, screaming, turned and galloped faintest of sounds, like the rattle of old teeth. The sword struck a boulder concealed in the heather - concealed, a watcher might have considered, so artfully that a moment before it had not appeared to be there at all. It sprang up like a leaping salmon and in mid-ricochet plunged deeply into the back of the troll's grey neck.The creature grunted, and with one swipe of a claw gouged a wound in the flank of Twoflower's horse, which screamed and bolted into the

Herbert James Draper Ulysses and the Sirens

2009-02-24T21:57:00.000-08:00

Herbert James Draper Ulysses and the SirensHerbert James Draper LamiaHerbert James Draper Lament for IcarusGeorge Inness The Coming Storm
It's certainly had a lot of banging about, Pan," she whispered. "I hope it still works."
Pantalaimon flew down to her wrist, and sat there glowing while Lyra composed her mind. With a part of her, she found it "What will lorek do?"
"He intends to break into the palace and rescue you, in the face of all the difficulties."
She put the alethiometer away, even more anxious than before.
"They won't let him, will they?" she said to Pantalaimon. "There's too many of 'emremarkable that she could sit here in terrible danger and yet sink into the calm she needed to read the alethiometer; and yet it was so much a part of her now that the most complicated questions sorted themselves out into their constituent symbols as naturally as her muscles moved her limbs: she hardly had to think about them.She turned the hands and thought the question: "Where is lorek?"The answer came at once: "A day's journey away, carried there by the balloon after your crash; but hurrying this way.""And Roger?""With lorek."

Marc Chagall La Mariee

2009-02-23T22:23:00.000-08:00

Marc Chagall La MarieePaul Gauguin Yellow ChristPaul Gauguin Where Do We Come FromPaul Gauguin The Yellow Christ
that, or one of the children managed to find his way there, open the door and the cages, and return to the front of the main building."
"And what are you doing to investigate?" she said. "No; on second thought, don't tell me. Please understand, Dr. Cooper, I'm guard could help your investigation? I merely mention that as a possibility. Where were the Tartars during the fire drill, by the way? I suppose you have considered that?"
"Yes, we have," said the man wearily. "The guard was fully occupied on patrol, every man. They keep meticulous records."
"I'm sure you're doing your very best," she said. "Well, there we are. A great pity. But enough of that for now. Tell me about the new separator."not criticizing out of malice. We have to be quite extraordinarily careful. It was an atrocious lapse to have allowed both alarms to be on the same circuit. That must be corrected at once. Possibly the Tartar officer in charge of the

Edward Hopper Cape Cod Morning

2009-02-22T22:42:00.000-08:00

Edward Hopper Cape Cod MorningAmedeo Modigliani the Reclining NudeAlphonse Maria Mucha SummerAlphonse Maria Mucha Spring
Well, thought Lyra, there's an idea.
During the first part of the afternoon, Lyra and four other girls were tested for Dust. The doctors didn't say that was what measurements," the doctor explained. It was hard to tell the difference between these people: all the men looked similar in their white coats and with their clipboards and pencils, and the women resembled one another too, the uniforms and their strange bland calm manner making them all look like sisters.
"I was measured yesterday," Lyra said.
"Ah, we're making different measurements today. Stand on the they were doing, but it was easy to guess. They were taken one by one to a laboratory, and of course this made them all very frightened; how cruel it would be, Lyra thought, if she perished without striking a blow at them! But they were not going to do that operation just yet, it seemed."We want to make some

Edgar Degas Cafe Concert Singer

2009-02-20T00:24:00.000-08:00

Edgar Degas Cafe Concert SingerEdgar Degas A Carriage at the RacesFrida Kahlo What the Water Gave Me
? What are they armed with?"
Lyra dutifully asked, and reported the answer:
"There's sixty men with rifles, and they got a couple of larger guns, sort of cannons. They got fire throwers too. And... Their daemons are all wolves, that's what it says."
That caused a stir among the older gyptians, those who'd campaigned before.
"The Sibirsk sledge, Lyra slipped away and spoke to the bear.
"lorek, have you traveled this way before?"
"Once," he said in that deep flat voice.
"There's a village near, en't there?"
"Over the ridge," he said, looking up through the sparse trees.regiments have wolf daemons," said one.John Faa said, "I never met fiercer. We shall have to fight like tigers. And consult the bear; he's a shrewd warrior, that one."Lyra was impatient, and said, "But Lord Faa, this ghost-I think it's the ghost of one of the kids!""Well, even if it is, Lyra, I don't know what anyone could do about it. Sixty Sibirsk riflemen, and fire throwers...Mr. Scoresby, step over here if you would, for a moment."While the aeronaut came to the

George Inness Coast Scene

2009-02-18T22:53:00.000-08:00

George Inness Coast ScenePierre Auguste Renoir Au bord de la merGustave Caillebotte Paris Street rainy weather
Knowing what kind of person you are. Take old Belisaria. She's a seagull, and that means I'm a kind of seagull too. I'm not grand and splendid nor beautiful, but I'm a tough old thing and I can survive anywhere and always find a bit of food she would ever grow up.

One morning there was a different smell in the air, and the ship was moving oddly, with a brisker rocking from side to side instead of the plunging and soaring. Lyra was on deck a minute after she woke up, gazing greedily at the land: such a strange sightand company. That's worth knowing, that is. And when your daemon settles, you'll know the sort of person you are.""But suppose your daemon settles in a shape you don't like?""Well, then, you're discontented, en't you? There's plenty of folk as'd like to have a lion as a daemon and they end up with a poodle. And till they learn to be satisfied with what they are, they're going to be fretful about it. Waste of feeling, that is."But it didn't seem to Lyra that

Leroy Neiman Chicago Key Club Bar

2009-02-17T22:28:00.000-08:00

Leroy Neiman Chicago Key Club BarLeroy Neiman Chicago Board of TradeLeroy Neiman Casino
, first they never knew that I knew some kids what had been took. My friend Roger the kitchen boy from Billy Costa, and a girl out the covered market in Oxford. And another thing...My uncle, right, Lord Asriel. 1 heard them talking about his journeys to the North, and I don't reckon he's got anything to do with the "You better tell us what you did hear your uncle say that evening," said John Faa. "Don't leave anything out, mind. Tell us everything."
Lyra did, more slowly than she'd told the Costas but more honestly, too. She was afraid Gobblers. Because I spied on the Master and the Scholars of Jordan, right, I hid in the Retiring Room where no one's supposed to go except them, and I heard him tell them all about his expedition up north, and the Dust he saw, and he brought back the head of Stanislaus Grumman, what the Tartars had made a hole in. And now the Gobblers've got him locked up somewhere. The armored bears are guarding him. And I want to rescue him."She looked fierce and stubborn as she sat there, small against the high carved back of the chair. The two old men couldn't help smiling, but whereas Farder Coram's smile was a hesitant, rich, complicated expression that trembled across his face like sunlight chasing shadows on a windy March day, John Faa's smile was slow, warm, plain, and kindly.

Vincent van Gogh Field with Poppies

2009-02-16T23:10:00.000-08:00

Vincent van Gogh Field with PoppiesHenri Matisse Blue Nude IIRobert Duval Emotional Dance
buy some patent-leather shoes, and then it was time to go back to the flat and check the flowers and get dressed.
"Not the and instantly became a polecat, arching his back against her little white ankle socks. Encouraged by this, Lyra said:
"But it won't be in the way. And it's the only thing I really like wearing. I think it really suits-"
She didn't finish the sentence, because Mrs. Coulter's daemon sprang off the sofa shoulder bag, dear," said Mrs. Coulter as Lyra came out of her bedroom, glowing with a sense of her own prettiness.Lyra had taken to wearing a little white leather shoulder bag everywhere, so as to keep the alethiometer close at hand. Mrs. Coulter, loosening the cramped way some roses had been bunched into a vase, saw that Lyra wasn't moving and glanced pointedly at the door."Oh, please, Mrs. Coulter, I do love this bag!""Not indoors, Lyra. It looks absurd to be carrying a shoulder bag in your it off at once, and come and help check these glasses...."It wasn't so much her snappish tone as the words "in your own " that made Lyra resist stubbornly. Pantalaimon flew to the floor

Tom Thomson the jack pine

2009-02-15T23:55:00.000-08:00

Tom Thomson the jack pineTom Thomson Jack PineRodney White Nothing to Dream
Street and along to Hangman's Wharf, and down King George's Steps to a little green door in the side of a tall iron stove. Tony ate the rest of his pie and drank the sweet hot liquor without taking much notice of his surroundings, and the surroundings took little notice of him: he was too small to be a threat, and too stolid to promise much satisfaction as a victim.warehouse. She knocks, the door is opened, they go in, the door is closed. Tony will never come out-at least, by that entrance; and he'll never see his mother again. She, poor drunken thing, will think he's run away, and when she remembers him, she'll think it was her fault, and sob her sorry heart out. * * * Little Tony Makarios wasn't the only child to be caught by the lady with the golden monkey. He found a dozen others in the cellar of the warehouse, boys and girls, none older than twelve or so; though since all of them had histories like his, none could be sure of their age. What Tony didn't notice, of course, was the factor that they all had in common. None of the children in that warm and steamy cellar had reached the age of puberty.The kind lady saw him settled on a bench against the wall, and provided by a silent serving woman with a mug of chocolatl from the saucepan on the

Thomas Kinkade The Hour of Prayer

2009-02-12T22:58:00.000-08:00

Thomas Kinkade The Hour of PrayerThomas Kinkade The Heart of San FranciscoThomas Kinkade Sweetheart Cottage II
to keep her in. Grumman sat steady and quiet; his daemon, wind-torn, clung firmly with her talons deep in the basket rim and her feathers blown erect.
"I'm going to take us down, Dr. Grumman," Lee shouted above the wind. "You should stand and be ready to jump clear. Hold only a minute before.
The basket was tossing and lurching so violently it was hard to tell if they were going down, and the gusts were so sudden and wayward that they might easily have been blown high into the sky without knowing; but after a minute or so Lee felt a sudden snag and the ring and swing yourself up when I call."Grumman obeyed. Lee gazed down, ahead, down, ahead, checking each dim glimpse against the next, and blinking the rain out of his eyes; for a sudden squall had brought heavy drops at them like handfuls of gravel, and the drumming they made on the gasbag added to the wind's howl and the lash of the leaves below until Lee could hardly even hear the thunder."Here we go!" he shouted. "You cooked up a fine storm, Mr. Shaman."He pulled at the gas-valve line and lashed it around a cleat to keep it open. As the gas streamed out of the top, invisible far above, the lower curve of the gasbag withdrew into itself, and a fold, and then another, appeared where there had been a bulging sphere

Paul Cezanne Flowers in a Blue Vase

2009-02-12T00:05:00.000-08:00

Paul Cezanne Flowers in a Blue VasePaul Cezanne Five BathersPaul Cezanne Boy in a Red Waistcoat
Serafina's knife swept across it. Will felt himself grow dizzy, and Lyra was restraining Pantalaimon, hare-formed himself in sympathy, who was bucking and snapping in her arms. The real hare fell still, eyes bulging, breast heaving, glanced at Will and saw that he knew what it ready. He held out his hand, and as Serafina daubed the steaming mixture on the bleeding stumps of his fingers he looked away and breathed in sharply several times, but he didn't flinch.
Once his open flesh was thoroughly soaked, the witch pressed some of the sodden herbs onto the wounds and tied them tight around with a strip of silk. And that was it; the spell was done., entrails glistening.But Serafina took some more of the decoction and trickled it into the gaping wound, and then closed up the wound with her fingers, smoothing the wet fur over it until there was no wound at all.The witch holding the animal relaxed her grip and let it gently to the ground, where it shook itself, turned to lick its flank, flicked its ears, and nibbled a blade of grass as if it were completely alone. Suddenly it seemed to become aware of the circle of witches around it, and like an arrow it shot away, whole again, bounding swiftly off into the dark.Lyra, soothing Pantalaimon

Amedeo Modigliani Reclining Nude

2009-02-11T00:27:00.000-08:00

Amedeo Modigliani Reclining NudePierre Auguste Renoir Dance at Bougival IThomas Kinkade Mountain Paradise
encourage artists to embrace a natural process," he says.
With the exception of Milli Vanilli's, pop listeners have always been fairly indulgent about performers' ethics. It's hits that are getting used to hearing things dead on pitch, and it's changed their expectations."
Despite Randy Jackson's stock American Idol critique--"A little pitchy, dawg"--many beloved songs are actually off-pitch or out of tune. There's Ringo Starr on "With a Little Help from My Friends," of course, and just about every blues song slides into notes as opposed to hitting them dead on. Even Norah Jonesmatter, and the average person listening to just one pop song on the radio will have a hard time hearing Auto-Tune's impact; it's effectively deceptive. But when track after track has perfect pitch, the songs are harder to differentiate from one another--which explains why pop is in a pretty serious lull at the moment. It also changes the way we hear unaffected voices. "The other day, someone was talking about how Aretha Franklin at the Inauguration was a bit pitchy," says Anderson. "I said, 'Of course! She was singing!' And that was a talking. People

Herbert James Draper Ulysses and the Sirens

2009-02-05T23:31:00.000-08:00

Herbert James Draper Ulysses and the SirensHerbert James Draper LamiaHerbert James Draper Lament for Icarus
all right," said Will quietly. "We aren't going to hurt you. Did the man with the knife do this?"
"Mmm," the old man grunted.
"Let's undo the rope. He hasn't tied it very well…" It was clumsily and hastily knotted, and it fell away quickly once Will had . "What's the bearer? What's that mean?"
"I hold the subtle knife on behalf of the Guild. Where has he gone?"
"He's downstairs," said Will. "We came up past him. He didn't see us. He was waving it about in the air."
"Trying to cut through. He won't succeed. When he—"seen how to work it. They helped the old man to get up and took him over to the shade of the parapet."Who are you?" Will said. "We didn't think there were two people here. We thought there was only one.""Giacomo Paradisi," the old man muttered through broken teeth. "I am the bearer. No one else. That young man stole it from me. There are always fools who take risks like that for the sake of the knife. But this one is desperate. He is going to kill me.""No, he en't," Lyra said

Leroy Neiman Willie Mays

2009-02-04T23:48:00.000-08:00

Leroy Neiman Willie MaysLeroy Neiman Whitey FordLeroy Neiman Westchester Classic
ran up to the children and pulled the first one back. It was a boy of about his own age, a boy in a striped T-shirt. As he turned Lyra saw the wild white rims around his pupils, and then the other children realized what was happening and stopped to look. Angelica and her little brother were there too, stones in hand, and all the children's eyes his breast and he cradled her close and stood to face the children, and Lyra thought for a crazy second that his daemon had appeared at last.
"What are you hurting this cat for?" he demanded, and they couldn't answer. They stood trembling at Will's anger, breathing heavily, clutching their sticks and their stones, and they couldn't speak.
But then Angelica's voice came clearly: "You ain' from here! You ain' from Ci'gazzeglittered fiercely in the moonlight.They fell silent. Only the high wailing continued, and then both Will and Lyra saw what it was: a tabby cat, cowering against the wall of the tower, its ear torn and its tail bent. It was the cat Will had seen in Sunderland Avenue, the one like Moxie, the one that had led him to the window.As soon as he saw her, he flung aside the boy he was holding. The boy fell to the ground and was up in a moment, furious, but the others held him back. Will was already kneeling by the cat.And then she was in his arms. She fled to

Lord Frederick Leighton The Garden of the Hesperides

2009-02-03T18:53:00.000-08:00

Lord Frederick Leighton The Garden of the HesperidesLord Frederick Leighton The Fisherman and the SyrenLord Frederick Leighton Solitude
He was tired to his very bones. He had hitchhiked, and ridden on two buses, and walked, and reached Oxford at six in the evening, too late to do what he needed to do. He'd eaten at a Burger King and gone to a cinema to hide (though what the film was, he forgot even as he was watching it), and now he was walking along an endless road through the this road, and there was still no sign of open country.
He came to a large traffic circle where the road going north crossed the Oxford ring road going east and west. At this time of night there was very little traffic, and the road where he stood was quiet, with comfortable houses set back behind a wide expanse of grass on either side. Planted along the grass at the road's edge were two lines of hornbeam suburbs, heading north.No one had noticed him so far. But he was aware that he'd better find somewhere to sleep before long, because the later it got, the more noticeable he'd be. The trouble was that there was nowhere to hide in the gardens of the comfortable houses along

Amedeo Modigliani the Reclining Nude

2009-02-02T23:06:00.000-08:00

Amedeo Modigliani the Reclining NudeAmedeo Modigliani Seated NudeAmedeo Modigliani Red Nude
what his father had told you. But there was something else."
"I remember. He meant the Kingdom was over, the Kingdom of Heaven, it was all finished. We shouldn't live as if it mattered more than this life in this world, because where we are is always the most important place."
"He said we had tocheerful and kind and curious and patient, and we've got to study and think and work hard, all of us, in all our different worlds, and then we'll build..."
Her hands were resting on his glossy fur. Somewhere in the garden a nightingale was singing, and a little breeze touched her hair and stirred the leaves overhead. All the different bells of the city chimed, once each, this one high, that one low build something...""That's why we needed our full life, Pan. We would have gone with Will and Kirjava, wouldn't we?""Yes. Of course! And they would have come with us. But...”"But then we wouldn't have been able to build it. No one could if they put themselves first. We have to be all those difficult things like

Unknown Artist Ranson Apple Tree with Red Fruit

2009-02-01T19:18:00.000-08:00

Unknown Artist Ranson Apple Tree with Red FruitUnknown Artist Spring is in the AirSalvador Dali The Great Masturbator
Ibe shaped like frogs or water beetles or slugs; they peeled off the bark of a long-fallen tree at the edge of a string-wood grove, pretending to have seen the two daemons creeping underneath it in the form of earwigs; Lyra made a great fuss of an ant she claimed to have trodden on, sympathizing with its bruises, saying its face was just like Pan's, asking in mock sorrow why it was refusing to speak to her.
But when she thought they were genuinely out of earshot, she said earnestly to Will, leaning close to speak quietly:your father again..."
"And we had to let them all out."
"Yes, we did. I'm so glad we did. Pan will be glad one day, too, when I die. We won't be split up. It was a good thing we did."
As the sun rose higher in the sky and the air became warmer, they began to look for shade. Toward noon they found themselves on the slope rising toward the summit of a ridge, and when they'd reached it, Lyra flopped down on the grass and said, "Well! If "We had to leave them, didn't we? We didn't have a choice really?""Yes, we had to. It was worse for you than for me, but we didn't have any choice at all. Because you made a promise to Roger, and you had to keep it.""And you had to speak to

Gustav Klimt lady with fan

2009-01-20T22:16:00.000-08:00

Gustav Klimt lady with fanClaude Monet The Water Lily PondEdgar Degas Four Dancers
What had happened three hundred years ago? Was it the cause of the Dust current, or was it the other way around? Or were they both the results of a different cause altogether? Or were they simply not connected at all?
The drift was mesmerizing. How easy it would be to fall into a trance, and let her mind drift away with the floating particles...was outside her body? Either way she was conscious of the most horrible danger, because the flood was threatening to sweep her loose completely, and it was immense.
She flung out her arms to seize hold of anything solid, but she had no arms. Nothing connected. Now she was almost over that abominable drop, and her body was farther and farther from reach, sleeping so hoggishly below her. She tried to shout and wake herself up: not a sound. The body slumbered on, and the self that observed was being borne away out of Before she knew what she was doing, and because her body was lulled, that was exactly what happened. She suddenly snapped awake to find herself outside her body, and she panicked.She was a little way above the platform, and a few feet off among the branches. And something had happened to the Dust wind: instead of that slow drift, it was racing like a river in flood. Had it sped up, or was time moving differently for her, now that she

Caravaggio The Supper at Emmaus

2009-01-18T21:44:00.000-08:00

Caravaggio The Supper at EmmausCaravaggio Taking of ChristCaravaggio The Incredulity of Saint Thomas
they set off across the floor of that great desolate plain, and the harpies wheeled higher and higher overhead, screaming and screaming. But they kept their distance, and the Gallivespians flew above, keeping watch.
As they walked along, the ghosts talked to them.
"Excuse me," said one "Yes," said the ghost, "his name was Sandling... oh, I loved him..."
"And had he settled?" said Lyra.
"No, not yet. He used to think he'd be a bird, and I hoped he wouldn't, because I liked him all furry in bed at night. But he was a bird more and more. What's your daemon called?"
Lyra told her, and the ghosts pressed forward eagerly again. They all wanted to talk about their daemons, every one.ghost girl, "but where's your daemons? Excuse me for asking. But..."Lyra was conscious every single second of her dear, abandoned Pantalaimon. She couldn't speak easily, so Will answered instead."We left our daemons outside," he said, "where it's safe for them. We'll collect them later. Did you have a daemon?"

Caravaggio Amor Vincit Omnia

2009-01-14T23:48:00.000-08:00

Caravaggio Amor Vincit OmniaPierre-Auguste Cot Le PrintempsGeorge Frederick Watts Charity
energy and adventurousness (skipping up to Mary and shying away, trying to clamber up tree trunks, floundering in the shallow water, and so on), they seemed clumsy, as if they were in the wrong element. The speed and power and grace of the adults was startling by contrast, and Mary saw how much a growing youngster must long for the day when the wheels would fit. She watched the oldest child, one day, go quietly to the storehouse where a importance, and soon Mary began to see just how valuable they were.
The mulefa spent much of their time, to begin with, in maintaining their wheels. By deftly lifting and twisting the claw, they could slip it out of the hole, and then they used their trunks to examine the wheel all over, cleaning the rim, checking for cracks. The claw was formidably number of seedpods were kept, and try to fit his foreclaw into the central hole; but when he tried to stand up, he fell over at once, trapping himself, and the sound attracted an adult. The child struggled to get free, squeaking with anxiety, and Mary couldn't help laughing at the sight, at the indignant parent and the guilty child, who pulled himself out at the last minute and scampered away.The seedpod wheels were clearly of the utmost

Unknown Artist Spring is in the Air

2009-01-13T23:14:00.000-08:00

Unknown Artist Spring is in the AirSalvador Dali The Great MasturbatorSalvador Dali Leda Atomica
Ama, the herdsman's daughter, carried the image of the sleeping girl in her memory: she could not stop thinking about her. She didn't question for a moment the truth of what Mrs. Coulter had told her. Sorcerers existed, beyond a doubt, and it was only too likely that they would cast sleeping spells, and that a mother would care for her daughter in would probably never be allowed again.
And during the time she spent milking the sheep, or carding and spinning their wool, or grinding barley to make bread, she thought incessantly about the spell that must have been cast, and about why it had happened. Mrs. Coulter had never told her, so Ama was free to imagine.that fierce and tender way. Ama conceived an admiration amounting almost to worship for the beautiful woman in the cave and her enchanted daughter.She went as often as she could to the little valley, to run errands for the woman or simply to chatter and listen, for the woman had wonderful tales to tell. Again and again she hoped for a glimpse of the sleeper, but it had only happened once, and; she accepted that it

Bartolome Esteban Murillo Inmaculada Museo del Prado

2009-01-12T22:20:00.000-08:00

Bartolome Esteban Murillo Inmaculada Museo del PradoBartolome Esteban Murillo Inmaculada de SoultBartolome Esteban Murillo Annunciation
explaining qbits, quantum superpositions and computation based on atoms. He argues that random fluctuations in the quantum foam produced higher-density areas, then matter, stars, galaxies and life. His conclusion is the same discuss patterns in the world around us. And many of the themes are very familiar to us, technologists. This is why it is important for us to keep up and know what is going on in the world of science. Besides being fascinating, it is increasingly applicable and useful.
And now, please share with us your favorite science books - the ones that made a big impact on you and helped expand your mind.as Kauffman’s - life is not an accident nor its divine. Rather, life is a consequence of the laws of computation and self-organization.ConclusionThere are so many great science books on topics ranging from physics and biology to economics and social science. These books

Henri Rousseau Woman Walking in an Exotic Forest

2009-01-11T23:31:00.000-08:00

Henri Rousseau Woman Walking in an Exotic ForestHenri Rousseau warHenri Rousseau Two Monkeys in the Jungle
Here's a classic technique that will have your man whistling a happytune all week long.Here's What You This one feels indescribably good. Your man will not be able to getenough of it, so you might want to buy the blueberries in bulk.Here's What You Need:One bag of frozen blueberries.Here's How You Do It:Get your man naked. Have him lie on his back.Open the bag of frozen blueberries and take out about a tablespoon'sworth of fruit. Put them into your mouth (if there are any ice particles onthe blueberries, or if any are frozen together, fifteen or twenty in an awesome orgasm.Need:Just the two of you.Here's How You Do It:Get your man naked.Begin to pleasure him orally.As you do, start to hum. The lower the notes you're humming, the better.The vibration from your lips will make him crazy.Continue until he has one "humdinger" of an orgasm.seconds inyour mouth should take care it).With the blueberries in your mouth, pleasure your man orally. Usingyour tongue, move the blueberries around the head of your man's penis.As the blueberries thaw, they may lose their pleasuring effect. Add moreblueberries to your mouth if you like; otherwise, just keep going until yourman explodes

Andy Warhol Dollar Sign 1981

2009-01-07T23:44:00.000-08:00

Andy Warhol Dollar Sign 1981Andy Warhol Diamond Dust ShoesAndy Warhol Diamond Dust Shoes Parallel
against a wall or the back of a chair). If a man has trouble maintaining an erection, he may want to try lying on top of his partner with his legs outside hers so that she can further stimulate his penis by squeezing her thighs together.Continue your lovemaking over several sessions. It's great when you have the whole afternoon to indulge in sex, or an evening when you are not tired. But this isn't always the case. Rather than rushing through a "quickie," try breaking off your lovemaking and returning later to pick up where you left off. A man may find that he's enjoyed a lovemaking session giving pleasure to his partner even if he hasn't experienced orgasm himself.anything major. Shower together instead of separately, light scented candles, or massage watching television) you didn't plan. Schedule your amorous adventures so they don't get away from you. Call them dates,additional support (especially if you place your back against a wall or the back of a

Jack Vettriano Along Came A Spider

2009-01-05T23:43:00.000-08:00

Jack Vettriano Along Came A SpiderJack Vettriano All Systems GoJack Vettriano After The Thrill Is Gone
Besides," she added, "the door will not open till the hour strikes."
"What hour?" asked the boy.
"The hour of separation," Light answered, sadly.
"What!" said Tyltyl, in great distress. "Are you leaving us?"
"I must," said Light. "The year is past. The Fairy will come back and ask you for the Blue Bird."
"But I haven't got the Blue Bird!" cried Tyltyl. "The one of the Land of Memory turned quite black, the one of the Future flew , for it was a beautiful mystery, which Tyltyl had to solve for himself. She turned to the Animals and Things, who stood weeping in a corner, and told them to come and kiss the Children.
Bread at once put down the cage at Tyltyl's feet and began to make a speech:
"In the name of all, I crave permission..."
"You sha'n't have mine” cried Fire.
"Order!" cried Water. away, the Night's are dead, those in the Graveyard were not blue and I could not catch the one in the Forest!... Will the Fairy be angry?.... What will she say?...." "Never mind, dear," said Light. "You did your best. And, though you did not find the Blue Bird, you deserved to do so, for the good-will, pluck and courage which you showed." words, for she knew that to deserve to find the Blue Bird was very much the same thing as finding it; but she was not allowed to say this

Hofmann Reclining Nude

2009-01-02T23:32:00.000-08:00

Hofmann Reclining NudeHofmann Reclining Nude IHofmann French Girl in KimonoHofmann dying swan
are you?" "No. That's where it all falls down of course." "Pity," said Arthur with sympathy. "It sounded like quite a good of course well known that careless talk costs lives, but the full scale of the problem is not always appreciated. For instance, at the very moment that Arthur said "I seem to be having tremendous difficulty with my wormhole opened up in the fabric of the space-time continuum and carried his words far far back in time across almost infinite reaches of space to a distant Galaxy where strange and warlike beings were poised on the brink of frightful interstellar battle. The two opposing leaders were meeting for the last otherwise." Somewhere on the wall a small white light flashed. "Come," said Slartibartfast, "you are to meet the mice. Your arrival on the planet has caused considerable excitement. It has already been hailed, so I gather, as the third most improbable event in the history of the Universe." "What were the first two?" "Oh, probably just coincidences," said Slartibartfast carelessly. He opened the door and stood waiting for Arthur to follow. Arthur glanced around him once more, and then down at himself, at the sweaty dishevelled clothes he had been lying in the mud in on Thursday morning. "I seem to be having tremendous difficulty with ," he muttered to himself. "I beg your pardon?" said the old man mildly. "Oh nothing," said Arthur, "only joking."

Jack Vettriano Contemplation of Betrayal 2001

2008-12-30T22:45:00.000-08:00

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

Da Vinci Madonna and Child with a Pomegranate

2008-12-29T22:57:00.000-08:00

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

Ernst Salome and the Tigers

2008-12-23T21:02:00.000-08:00

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

O'Keeffe White Pansy

2008-12-21T22:36:00.001-08:00

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

Juan Gris Man in the Cafe painting

2008-12-19T01:18:00.001-08:00

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

Edward Hopper Ground Swell painting

2008-12-16T22:53:00.000-08:00

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

Juan Gris Man in the Cafe painting

2008-12-11T22:39:00.000-08:00

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

Sung Kim Soaring Eagle painting

2008-12-10T22:45:00.000-08:00

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

Camille Pissarro Still Life painting

2008-12-10T00:44:00.000-08:00

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

Lorenzo Lotto Christ And The Adulteress painting

2008-12-07T22:44:00.000-08:00

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.

Mary Cassatt Young Mother Sewing painting

2008-12-05T00:26:00.000-08:00

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

Martin Johnson Heade paintings

2008-12-03T22:57:00.001-08:00

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.

jasper johns Target with Four Faces

2008-12-02T20:07:00.000-08:00

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

Pissarro Village Path

2008-12-01T21:27:00.000-08:00

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

Dali Le Labyrinth

2008-11-30T23:19:00.000-08:00

Dali Le LabyrinthDali Le JugementDali James the GreaterDali Hommage to Venice
overlooked the existence of hobbits. You should be thankful. But your safety has passed. He does not need you - he has many more useful servants - but he won’t forget you again. And hobbits as miserable slaves would please him far more than hobbits happy and free. There is such a thing as malice and revenge.’solid gold. ‘Can you see any markings on it?’ he asked.‘No,’ said Frodo. ‘There are none. It is quite plain, and it never shows a scratch or sign of wear.’‘Well then, look!’ To Frodo’s astonishment and distress the wizard threw it suddenly into the middle of a glowing corner of the fire. Frodo gave a cry and groped for the tongs; but Gandalf held him back.‘Wait!’ he said in a commanding voice, giving Frodo a quick look from under his bristling ‘Revenge?’ said Frodo. ‘Revenge for what? I still don’t understand what all this has to do with Bilbo and myself, and our ring.’‘It has everything to do with it,’ said Gandalf. ‘You do not know the real peril yet; but you shall. I was not sure of it myself when I was last here; but the time has come to speak. Give me the ring for a moment.’Frodo took it from his breeches-pocket, where it was clasped to a chain that hung from his belt. He unfastened it and handed it slowly to the wizard. It felt suddenly very heavy, as if either it or Frodo himself was in some way reluctant for Gandalf to touch it.Gandalf held it up. It looked to be made of pure and

Neiman Satellite Football

2008-11-28T21:39:00.000-08:00

Neiman Satellite FootballNeiman Santa AnitaNeiman San FranciscoNeiman Salle Privee Monte Carlo
, however, may wish to know more about this remarkable people from the outset, while some may not possess the earlier book. For such readers a few notes on the more important points are here collected from Hobbit-lore, and the first adventure is briefly recalled.Hobbits are an unobtrusive but very ancient people, more meet come blundering by; and this an they have developed until to Men it may seem magical. But Hobbits have never, in fact, studied magic of any kind, and their elusiveness is due solely to a professional skill that heredity and practice, and a close friendship with the earth, have rendered inimitable by bigger and clumsier races.For they are a little people, smaller than Dwarves: less tout and stocky, that is, even when they are not actually much shorter. Their height is variable, ranging between two and four numerous formerly than they are today; for they love peace and quiet and good tilled earth: a well-ordered and well-farmed countryside was their favourite haunt. They do not and did not understand or like machines more complicated than a forge-bellows, a water-mill, or a hand-loom, though they were skilful with tools. Even in ancient days they were, as a rule, shy of 'the Big Folk', as they call us, and now they avoid us with dismay and are becoming hard to find. They are quick of hearing and sharp-eyed, and though they are inclined to be fat and do not hurry unnecessarily, they are nonetheless nimble and deft in their movements. They possessed from the first the art of disappearing swiftly and silently, when large folk whom they do not wish to

Lawrence Alma-Tadema A Favourite Custom

2008-11-27T21:45:00.000-08:00

Lawrence Alma-Tadema A Favourite CustomLawrence Alma-Tadema A Dedication to BacchusLawrence Alma-Tadema Xanthe and PhaonLawrence Alma-Tadema When Flowers Return
, and he had been memory made nearly solid. Less substantial than living bodies, but much more than ghosts, they moved toward him. And on each face, there was the same loving smile.

　　　James was exactly the same height as Harry. He was wearing the clothes in which he had died, and his hair was untidy and ruffled, and his glasses were a little lopsided, like Mr. Weasley's.
　　Lily's smile was widest of all. She pushed her long hair back as she drew closer to him, and her green eyes, so like his, searched his face hungrily, as though she would never be able to look at him enough.
　　　Sirius was tall and handsome, and younger by far than Harry had seen loped with an easy grace, his hands in his pockets and a grin on his face.

　　　Lupin was younger too, and much less shabby, and his hair was thicker and darker. He looked happy to be back in this familiar place, scene of so many adolescent wanderings.

　

Maitland Harmony in Red and Ochre

2008-11-27T00:16:00.000-08:00

Maitland Harmony in Red and OchreMaitland Crimson Accent IIMaitland Crimson Accent IMaitland Copper Melody I
Do not pretend Lucius. You wish the battle to cease so that you can discover what has happened to your son. And i do not need to seek Potter. Before the night is out, Potter will have come to find me."

Voldemort dropped his gaze once more to the wand in his fingers. It troubled him...and those things that troubled Lord Voldemort needed to be rearranged... "Go and fetch Snape." "Snape, m-my Lord?"
"It is the only way, Nagini," he whispered, and he looked around, and there was the great thick snake, now suspended in midair, twisting gracefully within the enchanted, protected space he had made for her, a starry, transparent sphere somewhere between a glittering cage and a tank.
"Snape. Now. I need him. There is a --service--I require from him. Go."

Frightened, stumbling a little through the gloom, Lucius left the room. Vodlemort continued to stand there, twirling the wand between his fingers, staring at it.

Romanello Life is Good

2008-11-26T01:15:00.001-08:00

Romanello Life is GoodRomanello Lakeside GazeboRomanello Lakeside Gazebo PanelRomanello Lakeside Gazebo Panel
"Harry, let's get out, let's get out!" bellowed Ron, though it was impossible to see where the door was through the black smoke.

　　　And then Harry heard a thin, piteous human scream from amidst the terrible commotion, the thunder of devouring flame.

　　　"It's – too – dangerous – !" Ron yelled, but Harry wheeled in the air. His glasses giving his eyes some small protection from the smoke, hea face that was not yet charred like wood. . . .

　　　And he saw them: Malfoy with his arms around the unconscious Goyle, the pair of them perched on a fragile tower of charred desks, and Harry dived. Malfoy saw him coming and raised one arm, but even as Harry grasped it he knew at once that it was no good. Goyle was too heavy and Malfoy's hand, covered in sweat, slid instantly out of Harry's –

　　　"IF WE DIE FOR THEM, I'LL KILL YOU, HARRY!" roared Ron's voice, and, as a great flaming chimaera bore down upon them, he and Hermione

Kahlo Family Tree My Grandparents My Parents and I

2008-11-24T20:49:00.001-08:00

Kahlo Family Tree My Grandparents My Parents and IKahlo daKahlo-Self-Portrait with Monkey 1938Kahlo A Few Small NipsHofmann white slip
herself back to seriousness. "He'll know, won't he? You-Know-Who will know we know about his Horcruxes!"

　"Maybe they'll be too scared to tell him!" said Ron hopefully, "Maybe they'll cover up --"

　The sky, the smell of the lake water, the sound of Ron's voice were extinguished. Pain cleaved Harry's head like a sword stroke. He was standing in a dimly lit room, and a semicircle of wizards faced him, and on the floor at his feet knelt a small, quaking figure.
　"M-my Lord," stammered the goblin, its black eyes wide with terror, "m-my Lord... we t-tried to st-stop them... Im-impostors, my Lord... broke -broke into the - into the Lestranges' vault..." 　"Impostors? What impostors? I thought Gringotts had ways of revealing impostors? Who were they?
　"What did you say to me?" His voice was high and cold, but fury and fear burned inside him. The one thing that he had dreaded - but it could not be true, he could not see how...

The goblin was trembling, unable to meet the red eyes high above his.

"Say it again!" murmured Voldemort. "Say it again!"

Kroyer Tarde de verano en la playa

2008-11-23T19:30:00.000-08:00

Kroyer Tarde de verano en la playaKroyer Tade de verano en la playaKroyer Playa de SkagenKroyer Pintores en la playa
other two,

but they did not discuss it. They needed Griphook.

The goblin ate only grudgingly with the rest of them. Even after his legs had mended, he
"I'm sorry," he told Fleur, one blustery April evening as he helped her prepare dinner. "I

never meant you to have to deal with all of this."

She had just set some knives to work, chipping up steaks for Griphook and Bill, who had
continued to request trays of food in his room, like the still-frail Ollivander, until Bill

(following an angry outburst from Fleur) went upstairs to tell him that the arrangement

could not continue. Thereafter Griphook joined them at the overcrowded table, although

he refused to eat the same food, insisting, instead, on lumps of raw meat, roots, and

various fungi.

Harry felt responsible: It was, after all, he who had insisted that the goblin remain at Shell

Cottage so that he could question him; his fault that the whole Weasley family had been

driven into hiding, that Bill, Fred, George, and Mr. Weasley could no longer work.

Lippi Signoria Altarpiece

2008-11-21T21:06:00.001-08:00

Lippi Signoria AltarpieceFantin-Latour Still LifeLippi Four Saints AltarpieceMurillo The Infant Jesus Distributing Bread to Pilgrims
Gryffindor gripped tightly in her hand, her face waxen.

　　　"Where did you get this sword?" she whispered to Greyback as she pulled his wand out of his unresisting grip.
　　　She waved her wand, and the werewolf sprang to his feet, but appeared too wary to approach her. He prowled behind an armchair, his filthy curved nails clutching its back. 　　　"Draco, move this scum outside," said Bellatrix, indicating the
　　　"How dare you?" he snarled, his mouth the only thing that could move as he was forced to gaze up at her. He bared his pointed teeth. "Release me, woman!"

　　　"Where did you find this sword?" she repeated, brandishing it in his face, "Snape sent it to my vault in Gringotts!"

"It was in their tent," rasped Greyback. "Release me, I say!"
unconscious men. "If you haven't got the guts to finish them, then leave them in the courtyard for me."

Courbet Landscape The Source among the Rocks of the Doubs

2008-11-20T23:59:00.000-08:00

Courbet Landscape The Source among the Rocks of the DoubsCourbet Marine de Saint AubinCourbet Study for 'Landscape with WaterfallCourbet The Hammock
Ron spent evening after evening using his wand to beat out various rhythms on top of the wireless while the dials whirled. Occasionally they would catch snatches of advice on how to treat dragonpox, and once a few bars of "A Cauldron Full of Hot, Strong Love." While he taped, Ron continued to try to hit on the correct password, muttering strings of random words under his breath.
But not until March did luck favor Ron at last. Harry was sitting in the tent entrance, on guard duty, staring idly at a clump of grape hyacinths that had forced their way through the chilly ground, when Ron shouted excitedly from inside the tent. "I've got it, I've got it! Password was ‘Albus'! Get in here, Harry." 　　　Roused for the first time in days from his contemplation
　　　"They're normally something to do with the Order," he told them. "Bill had a real knack for guessing them. I'm bound to get one in the end…"

　　　"

Rothko No. 18

2008-11-19T21:38:00.001-08:00

Rothko No. 18Rothko No 61 Brown Blue Brown on Blue c1953Rothko No 3 19672Rothko No 2031954
them?

　"He were a head case, that Aberforth," said Enid Smeek, whose family lived on the outskirts of Godric's Hollow at that time. "Ran wild. ‘Course, with his mum and dad gone you'd have felt sorry for him, only he kept chucking goat dung at my head. I don't think Albus was fussed about him. I never saw them together, anyway."

　So what was Albus doing, if not comforting his wild young brother? The answer, it seems, is ensuring the continued imprisonment of his sister. For though her first jailer had died, there was no change in the pitiful condition of Ariana Dumbledore. Her very existence continued to be known only to those few outsiders who, like "Dogbreath" Doge, could be counted

　Another such easily satisfied friend of the family was Bathilda Bagshot, the celebrated magical historian who has lived in Godric's Hollow for many years

Machado Femme au Robe Rouge

2008-11-18T20:17:00.000-08:00

Machado Femme au Robe RougeMachado Femme Au Robe OrangeMachado Dance on White PianoMachado Dance on Black Piano
Harry glanced toward Hermione and Ron, both of whom were clutching the Extendable Ears as tightly as .
The goblins started to laugh again. "I'm still not seeing the joke," said Ted.
　　　"She and a couple of friends got into Snape's office and smashed open the glass case where he was apparently keeping the sword. Snape caught them as they were trying to smuggle it down the staircase.

　　　"Ah, God bless ‘em," said Ted. "What did they think, that they'd be able to use the sword on You-Know-Who? Or on Snape himself?

　　　"Well, whatever they thought they were going to do with it, Snape decided the sword wasn't safe where it was," said Dirk. "Couple of days later, once he'd got the say-so from You-Know-Who, I imagine, he sent it down to London to be kept in Gringotts instead."

"It's a fake," rasped Griphook.

Edward Hopper Sunday painting

2008-11-17T19:28:00.000-08:00

Edward Hopper Sunday paintingAmedeo Modigliani Reclining Nude paintingAlphonse Maria Mucha The Judgement of Paris painting
opened and Mr. Weasley walked inside, talking to an elderly witch whose blonde hair was teased so high it resembled an anthill.
your wife in for questioning today? Er – what's happened to you? Why are you so wet?" 　　　"Yaxley's office is raining," said Ron. He addressed Mr. Weasley's shoulder, and Harry felt sure he was scared that his father might recognize
　　　"… I quite understand what you're saying, Wakanda, but I'm afraid I cannot be party to – "

　　　Mr. Weasley broke off; he had noticed Harry. It was very strange to have Mr. Weasley glare at him with that much dislike. The lift doors closed and the four of them trundled downward once more.

　　　"Oh hello, Reg," said Mr. Weasley, looking around at the sound of steady dripping from Ron's robes. "Isn't

William Bouguereau Innocence painting

2008-11-16T21:37:00.000-08:00

William Bouguereau Innocence paintingVincent van Gogh Poppies 1886 paintingHenri Matisse Goldfish painting
long velvet curtains and a chandelier thickly coated in dust with candle scrubs still resting in its sockets, solid wax banging in frostlike drips. A fine film of dust covered the pictures on the walls and the bed's headboard; a spiders web stretched between the chandelier and the top of the large wooden wardrobe, and as Harry moved deeper into the room, he head a scurrying of disturbed mice.

　　　The teenage Sirius had plastered the walls with so many posters and pictures that little of the wall's silvery-gray silk was visible. Harry could only assume that Sirius's parents had been unable to remove the Permanent Sticking Charm that kept them on the wall because he was sure they would not have appreciated their eldest son's taste in decoration. Sirius seemed to have long gone out of his way to annoy his parents. There were several large Gryffindor

Francois Boucher Adoration of the Shepherds painting

2008-11-14T00:34:00.000-08:00

Francois Boucher Adoration of the Shepherds paintingGustave Courbet The Origin of the World paintingGustave Courbet Plage de Normandie painting
house-elf heads on the wall throwing odd shadows up the staircase. Long dark curtains concealed the portrait of Sirius's mother. The only thing that was out of place was the troll's leg umbrella stand, which was lying on its side as if Tonks had just knocked it over again.
"So where are these jinxes they put up against Snape?" Harry asked. "Maybe they're only activated if he shows up?" suggested Ron. 　　　Yet they remained close together on the doormat, backs against the door, scared to move farther into the house. "Well, we can't stay here forever," said Harry, and he took a
"I think somebody's been in here," Hermione whispered, pointing toward it.

"That could've happened as the Order left," Ron murmured back.

Claude Monet The Luncheon painting

2008-11-12T19:54:00.001-08:00

Claude Monet The Luncheon paintingClaude Monet Terrace at St Adresse paintingClaude Monet Poplars painting
I'd do your fly by hand, though," Ron advised Harry, sniggering when Harry immediately checked it. "Here's your present. Unwrap it up here, it's not for my mother's eyes."

　　　"A book?" said Harry as he took the rectangular parcel. "Bit of a departure from tradition, isn't it?"

　　　"This isn't your average book," said Ron. "It'd pure gold: Twelve Fail-Safe Ways to Charm Witches. Explains everything you need to know about girls. If only I'd had this last year I'd have known exactly how to get rid of Lavender and I would've known how to get going with... Well, Fred and George gave me a copy, and I've learned a lot. You'd be surprised, it's not all about wandwork, either."

　　　When they arrived in the kitchen they found a pile of presents waiting on the table. Bill and Monsieur Delacour were finishing their breakfasts, while Mrs. Weasley stood chatting to them over the frying pan.

Lorenzo Lotto Venus and Cupid painting

2008-11-11T20:47:00.000-08:00

Lorenzo Lotto Venus and Cupid paintingLorenzo Lotto Mystic Marriage of St Catherine paintingWilliam Etty Hero and Leander painting
When are you at your creative peak? That is, what time of day do ideas flow most easily for you? What activities bring your best ideas to the surface where you can most easily gather them up?
A recent survey by the Crown Plaza hotel group suggests that certain times and activities are more conducive to creative thinking than others [PDF download]. The most creative time, they found, was late in the evening (around 10 pm), while their respondents were at the least creative in the late afternoon (around 4:30 pm). The survey also found that most respondents were likely to have a lot of ideas either in or just after a shower.
I’ll admit the survey is a little silly – the results were “published” in a press release touting the commission of a designer to create note cards (they call them “Think Notes”) that travelers can use to jot down their ideas – clearly this is part of a intended to promote the Crown Plaza chain as most conducive to innovation for the executives that stay there.
Still, the findings do reinforce something that many of us already know intuitively, though