Horace Vernet The Lion HuntSir Henry Raeburn The Reverend Robert Walker SkatingJean Auguste Dominique Ingres Princesse Albert de BrogliePeter Paul Rubens The Judgment of ParisPeter Paul Rubens Landscape with a Rainbow
, or dead. The only medicine they generally required was an antacid formula and a dark room until lunch.
‘Brought you something to read,’ said the voice, diffidently.
The Bursar managed to focus on the spine of Adventures with Crossbow and Rod.
‘Nasty streets. So far the disguise was working perfectly. People were even jostling them. No‑one ever knowingly jostled a wizard. It was a whole new experience.
There was a huge crowd of people outside the entrance to the Odium, and a queue that stretched down the street. The Dean ignored it, and led the party straight up to the doors, whereupon someone said ‘Oi!’
He looked up at a red‑faced troll in an ill‑fitting military‑looking outfit that included epaulettes the size of kettle‑drums and no trousers.knock you had there, Bursar. Been asleep all day.’The Bursar looked blearily at the pink and orange haze, which gradually refined itself into the Archchancellor’s pink and orange face.Let’s see, he thought, exactly how did IHe sat bolt upright and grabbed the Archchancellor’s robe and screamed into the big pink and orange face: ‘Something dreadful’s going to happen!’ The wizards strolled through the twilight
Tuesday, March 31, 2009
Monday, March 30, 2009
Thomas Kinkade Conquering the Storms
Thomas Kinkade Conquering the StormsThomas Kinkade bloomsbury cafeEdward Hopper The Martha McKeen of WellfleetEdward Hopper Rocks and SeaEdward Hopper Railroad Crossing
Dawna Time starts wavin’ at you from under your bed, jus’ you don’t come complainin’ to me.’
‘What are you going on about?’ said Victor.
‘Oh, nothin’. Nothin’.’
Dibbler looked up, caught sight of Victor’s craning face, and waved at it.
‘You, lad! Come here! Have I got a part for you!’
‘Have you?’ said Victor, pushing his way through the crowd.
‘That’s what I said!’
‘No, you asked if-’ Victor began, and gave up.
‘And where’s Miss Ginger, may I ask?’ said Dibbler. ‘Late again?’
‘ . . . prob’ly sleepin’ in . . . ‘ grumbled a sullen and totally ignored voice from down below in the sea of legs, ‘. . . prob’ly takes it out of you, messin’ with the occult . . . ‘
‘Soll, send someone to fetch her here-’ ‘. . . wot can you expect, huh, people who like cats’re capable of anythin’, you can’t trust ‘em. . . ’ ‘And find someone to transcribe the bed.’ ‘Yes, Uncle.’ ‘ . . . but do they listen! Not them. Bet if I had a glossy coat an’ ran aroun’ yappin’ they’d listen all right . . . ‘ Dibbler opened his mouth to speak, and then frowned and raised a hand. ‘Where’s that muttering coming from?’ he said. ‘ . . . prob’ly saved the whole world for ‘em, by rights I’d get a statchoo put up to me nose but no, oh no, not for you Mr Gaspode, on account of you not bein’ the right kinda person, so . . . ‘ The whine stopped. The crowd shuffled aside, revealing
‘Yes, Uncle.’ a small bowlegged grey dog, which looked up impassively at Dibbler.
‘Bark?’ it said, innocently.
Dawna Time starts wavin’ at you from under your bed, jus’ you don’t come complainin’ to me.’
‘What are you going on about?’ said Victor.
‘Oh, nothin’. Nothin’.’
Dibbler looked up, caught sight of Victor’s craning face, and waved at it.
‘You, lad! Come here! Have I got a part for you!’
‘Have you?’ said Victor, pushing his way through the crowd.
‘That’s what I said!’
‘No, you asked if-’ Victor began, and gave up.
‘And where’s Miss Ginger, may I ask?’ said Dibbler. ‘Late again?’
‘ . . . prob’ly sleepin’ in . . . ‘ grumbled a sullen and totally ignored voice from down below in the sea of legs, ‘. . . prob’ly takes it out of you, messin’ with the occult . . . ‘
‘Soll, send someone to fetch her here-’ ‘. . . wot can you expect, huh, people who like cats’re capable of anythin’, you can’t trust ‘em. . . ’ ‘And find someone to transcribe the bed.’ ‘Yes, Uncle.’ ‘ . . . but do they listen! Not them. Bet if I had a glossy coat an’ ran aroun’ yappin’ they’d listen all right . . . ‘ Dibbler opened his mouth to speak, and then frowned and raised a hand. ‘Where’s that muttering coming from?’ he said. ‘ . . . prob’ly saved the whole world for ‘em, by rights I’d get a statchoo put up to me nose but no, oh no, not for you Mr Gaspode, on account of you not bein’ the right kinda person, so . . . ‘ The whine stopped. The crowd shuffled aside, revealing
‘Yes, Uncle.’ a small bowlegged grey dog, which looked up impassively at Dibbler.
‘Bark?’ it said, innocently.
Thursday, March 26, 2009
Edward Hopper Chair Car
Edward Hopper Chair CarEdward Hopper A Woman in the SunUnknown Artist Mary Magdalene at the TombThomas Kinkade yankee stadiumThomas Kinkade ny yankee stadium
a cat person, myself,’ she said, vaguely.
A low-level voice said: ‘Yeah? Yeah? Wash in your own spit, do you?’
‘What was that?’
Victor backed away, waving his hands frantically. ‘Don’t look at me!’ he said. ‘I didn’t say it!’
‘Oh? I suppose it was the dog, was it?’ she demanded.
‘Who, me?’ said Gaspode.
Ginger , eh?’
Victor gaped at him. ‘The what?’ he said.
‘The what?’ said Ginger.
‘Been looking all over for you two,’ said Dibbler. ‘Someone said he’d seen you come up here. Very romantic. Could do something with that. Look good on the posters. Rightfroze. Her eyes swivelled around and down, to where Gaspode was icily scratching an ear. ‘Woof?’ he said. ‘That dog spoke–’ Ginger began, pointing a shaking finger at him. ‘I know,’ said Victor. ‘That means he likes you.’ He looked past her. Another light was coming up the hill. ‘Did you bring someone with you?’ he said. ‘Me?’ Ginger turned round. Now the light was accompanied by the cracking of dry twigs, and Dibbler stepped out of the dusk with Detritus trailing behind like a particularly scary shadow. ‘Ah-ha!’ he said. ‘The lovebirds surprised
a cat person, myself,’ she said, vaguely.
A low-level voice said: ‘Yeah? Yeah? Wash in your own spit, do you?’
‘What was that?’
Victor backed away, waving his hands frantically. ‘Don’t look at me!’ he said. ‘I didn’t say it!’
‘Oh? I suppose it was the dog, was it?’ she demanded.
‘Who, me?’ said Gaspode.
Ginger , eh?’
Victor gaped at him. ‘The what?’ he said.
‘The what?’ said Ginger.
‘Been looking all over for you two,’ said Dibbler. ‘Someone said he’d seen you come up here. Very romantic. Could do something with that. Look good on the posters. Rightfroze. Her eyes swivelled around and down, to where Gaspode was icily scratching an ear. ‘Woof?’ he said. ‘That dog spoke–’ Ginger began, pointing a shaking finger at him. ‘I know,’ said Victor. ‘That means he likes you.’ He looked past her. Another light was coming up the hill. ‘Did you bring someone with you?’ he said. ‘Me?’ Ginger turned round. Now the light was accompanied by the cracking of dry twigs, and Dibbler stepped out of the dusk with Detritus trailing behind like a particularly scary shadow. ‘Ah-ha!’ he said. ‘The lovebirds surprised
Wednesday, March 25, 2009
Thomas Kinkade Beyond Summer Gate
Thomas Kinkade Beyond Summer GateThomas Kinkade Autumn SnowEdward Hopper The Lighthouse at Two LightsEdward Hopper Tables for LadiesEdward Hopper Sunlight in a Cafeteria
Ridcully the Brown wasn’t the least interested in running anything except maybe a string of hounds. If you couldn’t shoot arrows at it, hunt it or hook it, he couldn’t see much point in it.
Beer at breakfast! The Bursar shuddered. Wizards weren’t at their best before noon, and breakfast in the Great Hall On the lines of:
‘I expect it must be a, mm, a change for you, mm, sleeping in a real bed, instead of under the, mm, stars?’ And: ‘These things, mm, here, are called knives and forks, mm.’ And: ‘This, mm, green stuff on the scrambled egg, mm, would it be parsley, do you think?’ was a quiet, fragile occasion, broken only by coughs, the quiet shuffling of the servants, and the occasional groan. People shouting for kidneys and black pudding and beer were a new phenomenon. The only person not terrified of the ghastly man was old Windle Poons, who was one hundred and thirty years old and deaf and, while an expert on ancient magical writings, needed adequate. notice and a good run-up to deal with the present day. He’d managed to absorb the fact that the new Archchancellor was going to be one of those hedgerow-and-dickie-bird chappies, it would take a week or two for him to grasp the change of events, and in the meantime he made polite and civilized conversation based on what little he could remember about Nature and things.
Ridcully the Brown wasn’t the least interested in running anything except maybe a string of hounds. If you couldn’t shoot arrows at it, hunt it or hook it, he couldn’t see much point in it.
Beer at breakfast! The Bursar shuddered. Wizards weren’t at their best before noon, and breakfast in the Great Hall On the lines of:
‘I expect it must be a, mm, a change for you, mm, sleeping in a real bed, instead of under the, mm, stars?’ And: ‘These things, mm, here, are called knives and forks, mm.’ And: ‘This, mm, green stuff on the scrambled egg, mm, would it be parsley, do you think?’ was a quiet, fragile occasion, broken only by coughs, the quiet shuffling of the servants, and the occasional groan. People shouting for kidneys and black pudding and beer were a new phenomenon. The only person not terrified of the ghastly man was old Windle Poons, who was one hundred and thirty years old and deaf and, while an expert on ancient magical writings, needed adequate. notice and a good run-up to deal with the present day. He’d managed to absorb the fact that the new Archchancellor was going to be one of those hedgerow-and-dickie-bird chappies, it would take a week or two for him to grasp the change of events, and in the meantime he made polite and civilized conversation based on what little he could remember about Nature and things.
Tuesday, March 24, 2009
Jean Fragonard The Bathers
Jean Fragonard The BathersThomas Gainsborough Mrs SheridanSandro Botticelli Venus and MarsJean Beraud La Rue de la PaixHenri Rousseau The Snake Charmer
it thronged:
Teppic watched from the top of a wind-etched obelisk as the grey and brown, and here and there somewhat greenish, armies of the departed passed beneath him. The kings had been democratic. After the pyramids had been emptied gangs of them had turned their attention to the lesser tombs, and now the necropolis really did have its as he leapt from monument to monument, zig-zagging high above the shuffling army.
Behind him shoots appeared briefly in the ancient stone, cracking it a little, and then withered and died.
This, said his blood as it tingled around his body, is what you trained for. Even Mericet couldn't mark you down for this. Speeding in the shadows above a silent city, running like a cat, finding handholds that would have perplexed a gecko - and, at the destination, a victim.
True, it was a billion tons of pyramid, and hitherto the largest client of an intradesmen, its nobles and even its artisans. Not that there was, by and large, any way of telling the difference. They were, to a corpse, heading for the Great Pyramid. It loomed like a carbuncle over the lesser, older buildings. And they all seemed very angry about something. Teppic dropped lightly on to the wide flat roof of a mastaba, jogged to its far end, cleared the gap on to an ornamental sphinx - not without a moment's worry, but this one seemed inert enough - and from there it was but the throw of a grapnel to one of the lower storeys of a step pyramid. The long light of the contentious sun lanced across the spent landscape
it thronged:
Teppic watched from the top of a wind-etched obelisk as the grey and brown, and here and there somewhat greenish, armies of the departed passed beneath him. The kings had been democratic. After the pyramids had been emptied gangs of them had turned their attention to the lesser tombs, and now the necropolis really did have its as he leapt from monument to monument, zig-zagging high above the shuffling army.
Behind him shoots appeared briefly in the ancient stone, cracking it a little, and then withered and died.
This, said his blood as it tingled around his body, is what you trained for. Even Mericet couldn't mark you down for this. Speeding in the shadows above a silent city, running like a cat, finding handholds that would have perplexed a gecko - and, at the destination, a victim.
True, it was a billion tons of pyramid, and hitherto the largest client of an intradesmen, its nobles and even its artisans. Not that there was, by and large, any way of telling the difference. They were, to a corpse, heading for the Great Pyramid. It loomed like a carbuncle over the lesser, older buildings. And they all seemed very angry about something. Teppic dropped lightly on to the wide flat roof of a mastaba, jogged to its far end, cleared the gap on to an ornamental sphinx - not without a moment's worry, but this one seemed inert enough - and from there it was but the throw of a grapnel to one of the lower storeys of a step pyramid. The long light of the contentious sun lanced across the spent landscape
Friday, March 20, 2009
Thomas Kinkade Boston
Thomas Kinkade BostonEdward Hopper Soir BleuEdward Hopper Cape Cod MorningAmedeo Modigliani the Reclining NudeAlphonse Maria Mucha Summer
straightforward and practical, and only disapproved of by barbershop quartets.**) (** Because you feel an idiot singing 'In hours of daylight left.'
Teppic nodded.
'Thank you,' said the architect. 'May your loins be truly fruitful. Saving your presence, Lord Dios.'
They heard him running down the steps outside.the Good Old Inundation', that's why.) 'What?' 'You are talking to the 1,398th monarch,' said Dios icily. Ptaclusp swallowed. 'I'm sorry,' he whispered, 'I mean, what?, O great king. I mean, block haulage alone will take. Uh.' The architect's lips trembled as he tried out various comments and, in his imagination, ran them full tilt into Dios's stare. 'Tsort wasn't built in a day,' he mumbled. 'We do not believe we laid the specifications for that job,' said Dios. He gave Ptaclusp a smile. In some ways it was worse than everything else. 'We will, of course,' he said, 'pay extra.' 'But you never pa-' Ptaclusp began, and then sagged. 'The penalties for not completing on time will, of course, be terrible,' said Dios. 'The usual clause.' Ptaclusp hadn't the nerve left to argue. 'Of course,' he said, utterly defeated. 'It is an honour. Will your eminences excuse me? There are still some
straightforward and practical, and only disapproved of by barbershop quartets.**) (** Because you feel an idiot singing 'In hours of daylight left.'
Teppic nodded.
'Thank you,' said the architect. 'May your loins be truly fruitful. Saving your presence, Lord Dios.'
They heard him running down the steps outside.the Good Old Inundation', that's why.) 'What?' 'You are talking to the 1,398th monarch,' said Dios icily. Ptaclusp swallowed. 'I'm sorry,' he whispered, 'I mean, what?, O great king. I mean, block haulage alone will take. Uh.' The architect's lips trembled as he tried out various comments and, in his imagination, ran them full tilt into Dios's stare. 'Tsort wasn't built in a day,' he mumbled. 'We do not believe we laid the specifications for that job,' said Dios. He gave Ptaclusp a smile. In some ways it was worse than everything else. 'We will, of course,' he said, 'pay extra.' 'But you never pa-' Ptaclusp began, and then sagged. 'The penalties for not completing on time will, of course, be terrible,' said Dios. 'The usual clause.' Ptaclusp hadn't the nerve left to argue. 'Of course,' he said, utterly defeated. 'It is an honour. Will your eminences excuse me? There are still some
Wednesday, March 18, 2009
Horace Vernet The Lion Hunt
Horace Vernet The Lion HuntSir Henry Raeburn The Reverend Robert Walker SkatingJean Auguste Dominique Ingres Princesse Albert de BrogliePeter Paul Rubens The Judgment of ParisPeter Paul Rubens Landscape with a Rainbow
one becomes like she is without building walls inside their head,' she said. Tve just knocked them down. Every scream. Every plea. Every pang of guilt. Every twinge of conscience. All at once. There's a little trick to it.'
She gave Magrat a condescending smile. 'I'll show you one day, if you like.'
Magrat thought about it. 'It's horrible,' she said.
'Nonsense,' Granny smiled terribly. 'Everyone wants to know their true self. Now, she does.'
'Sometimes you have to be kind to be cruel,' said Nanny Ogg approvingly.
'I think A noise like a gas leak escaped from the duchess's lips. Her head jerked back suddenly. She opened her eyes, blinked, and focused on Granny. Sheer hatred suffused her features.
'Guards!' she said. 'I told you to take them!'
Granny's jaw sagged. 'What?' she said. 'But – but I showed you your it's probably the worst thing that could happen to anyone,' said Magrat, as the duchess swayed backwards and forwards.'For goodness' sake use your imagination, girl,' said Granny. 'There are far worse things. Needles under the fingernails, for one. Stuff with pliers.''Red-hot knives up the jacksie,' said Nanny Ogg. 'Handle first, too, so you cut your fingers trying to pull them out—''This is simply the worst that I can do,' said Granny Weatherwax primly. 'It's all right and proper, too. A witch should act like that, you know. There's no need for any dramatic stuff. Most magic goes on in the head. It's headology. Now, if you'd—'
one becomes like she is without building walls inside their head,' she said. Tve just knocked them down. Every scream. Every plea. Every pang of guilt. Every twinge of conscience. All at once. There's a little trick to it.'
She gave Magrat a condescending smile. 'I'll show you one day, if you like.'
Magrat thought about it. 'It's horrible,' she said.
'Nonsense,' Granny smiled terribly. 'Everyone wants to know their true self. Now, she does.'
'Sometimes you have to be kind to be cruel,' said Nanny Ogg approvingly.
'I think A noise like a gas leak escaped from the duchess's lips. Her head jerked back suddenly. She opened her eyes, blinked, and focused on Granny. Sheer hatred suffused her features.
'Guards!' she said. 'I told you to take them!'
Granny's jaw sagged. 'What?' she said. 'But – but I showed you your it's probably the worst thing that could happen to anyone,' said Magrat, as the duchess swayed backwards and forwards.'For goodness' sake use your imagination, girl,' said Granny. 'There are far worse things. Needles under the fingernails, for one. Stuff with pliers.''Red-hot knives up the jacksie,' said Nanny Ogg. 'Handle first, too, so you cut your fingers trying to pull them out—''This is simply the worst that I can do,' said Granny Weatherwax primly. 'It's all right and proper, too. A witch should act like that, you know. There's no need for any dramatic stuff. Most magic goes on in the head. It's headology. Now, if you'd—'
Tuesday, March 17, 2009
Unknown Artist Aeneas Carrying Anchises by Carl van Loo
Unknown Artist Aeneas Carrying Anchises by Carl van LooPablo Picasso BULLFIGHT DEATH OF THE TOREADOR La corridaAlbert Bierstadt Quiet PondAlbert Bierstadt A Quiet lakeFabian Perez Waiting for the romance to come
Granny had also browbeaten the dwarfs who lived under the mountains and in fear of their lives into speeding the thing up. Many an egg had been laid in mid-air by unsuspecting fowls who had suddenly glimpsed Granny bearing down on them, scowling over the top of the broomstick.
'Oh dear,' thought Magrat. 'I hope she hasn't happened to someone.'
A midnight Granny, who was lying almost full length along her broomstick to reduce wind resistance. Dark treetops roared far below them as Magrat came alongside. Granny turned to her, holding her hat on with one hand.
'Not before time,' she snapped. 'I don't reckon this one's got more'n a few minutes flight left. Come on, get a move on.'
She reached out a hand. So did Magrat. Unsteadily, the broomsticks bucking and dipping breeze turned her gently around in the air, like an unsupported weathercock. She shivered and squinted at the moonlit mountains, the high Ramtops, whose freezing crags and ice-green chasms acknowledged no king or cartographer. Only on the Rim ward side was Lancre open to the world; the rest of its borders looked as jagged as a wolfs mouth and far more impassable. From up here it was possible to see the whole kingdom . . .There was a ripping noise in the sky above her, a blast of wind that spun her around again, and a Doppler-distorted cry of, 'Stop dreaming, girl!'She gripped the bristles with her knees and urged the stick upward.It took several minutes to catch up with
Granny had also browbeaten the dwarfs who lived under the mountains and in fear of their lives into speeding the thing up. Many an egg had been laid in mid-air by unsuspecting fowls who had suddenly glimpsed Granny bearing down on them, scowling over the top of the broomstick.
'Oh dear,' thought Magrat. 'I hope she hasn't happened to someone.'
A midnight Granny, who was lying almost full length along her broomstick to reduce wind resistance. Dark treetops roared far below them as Magrat came alongside. Granny turned to her, holding her hat on with one hand.
'Not before time,' she snapped. 'I don't reckon this one's got more'n a few minutes flight left. Come on, get a move on.'
She reached out a hand. So did Magrat. Unsteadily, the broomsticks bucking and dipping breeze turned her gently around in the air, like an unsupported weathercock. She shivered and squinted at the moonlit mountains, the high Ramtops, whose freezing crags and ice-green chasms acknowledged no king or cartographer. Only on the Rim ward side was Lancre open to the world; the rest of its borders looked as jagged as a wolfs mouth and far more impassable. From up here it was possible to see the whole kingdom . . .There was a ripping noise in the sky above her, a blast of wind that spun her around again, and a Doppler-distorted cry of, 'Stop dreaming, girl!'She gripped the bristles with her knees and urged the stick upward.It took several minutes to catch up with
Monday, March 16, 2009
Leroy Neiman Femlin
Leroy Neiman FemlinUnknown Artist Abstract Autumn by DougallAndy Warhol Shot Blue Marilyn 1964Andy Warhol Pink CowAndy Warhol Ingrid with Hat
'What's that?' said the duke sharply.
'Nothing,' said Nanny. 'Is this going to take long? I haven't had breakfast.'
The Fool lit a match. There was the faintest disturbance in the air beside him, and it went out. He swore, and tried another. This time his shaking hands managed to get it as far as the brazier before it, too, flared and darkened.
'Hurry 'It's common knowledge. Treason. Malicious witchcraft. Harbouring the king's enemies. Theft of the crown—'
A tinkling noise made them look down. A blood-stained dagger up, man!' said the duchess, laying out a tray of tools.'Doesn't seem to want to light—' muttered the Fool, as another match became a fluttering streak of flame and then went out.The duke snatched the box from his trembling fingers and caught him across the cheek with a handful of rings.'Can no orders of mine be obeyed?' he screamed. 'Infirm of purpose! Weak! Give me the box!'The Fool backed away. Someone he couldn't see was whispering things he couldn't quite make out in his ear.'Go outside,' hissed the duke, 'and see that we are not disturbed!'The Fool tripped over the bottom step, turned and, with a last imploring look at Nanny, scampered through the door He capered a little bit, out of force of habit.'The fire isn't completely necessary,' said the Duchess. 'It merely assists. Now, woman, will you confess?''What to?' said Nanny.
'What's that?' said the duke sharply.
'Nothing,' said Nanny. 'Is this going to take long? I haven't had breakfast.'
The Fool lit a match. There was the faintest disturbance in the air beside him, and it went out. He swore, and tried another. This time his shaking hands managed to get it as far as the brazier before it, too, flared and darkened.
'Hurry 'It's common knowledge. Treason. Malicious witchcraft. Harbouring the king's enemies. Theft of the crown—'
A tinkling noise made them look down. A blood-stained dagger up, man!' said the duchess, laying out a tray of tools.'Doesn't seem to want to light—' muttered the Fool, as another match became a fluttering streak of flame and then went out.The duke snatched the box from his trembling fingers and caught him across the cheek with a handful of rings.'Can no orders of mine be obeyed?' he screamed. 'Infirm of purpose! Weak! Give me the box!'The Fool backed away. Someone he couldn't see was whispering things he couldn't quite make out in his ear.'Go outside,' hissed the duke, 'and see that we are not disturbed!'The Fool tripped over the bottom step, turned and, with a last imploring look at Nanny, scampered through the door He capered a little bit, out of force of habit.'The fire isn't completely necessary,' said the Duchess. 'It merely assists. Now, woman, will you confess?''What to?' said Nanny.
Sunday, March 15, 2009
Unknown Artist Les Vins Blancs
Unknown Artist Les Vins BlancsGeorge Stubbs Horse Attacked by a LionSalvador Dali The Land of Milk and HoneyCaravaggio Sick BacchusUnknown Artist Wave Rider
you good to get out,' said Nanny happily.
Magrat had been disappointed about the dancing, and was relieved that she hadn't ventured one or two other ideas that had been on her mind. She fumbled in the packet she had brought with her. It was her first sabbat, and she was determined to do it right.
'Would anyone care for a scone?' she said.
Granny xMeanwhile King Verence, monarch of Lancre, was making a discovery.
Like most people – most people, at any rate, below the age of sixty or so – Verence hadn't exercised his mind much about what happened to you when you died. Like most people since the dawn of time, he assumed it all somehow worked out all right in the end. you good to get out,' said Nanny happily.
Magrat had been disappointed about the dancing, and was relieved that she hadn't ventured one or two other ideas that had been on her mind. She fumbled in the packet she had brought with her. It was her first sabbat, and she was determined to do it right.
'Would anyone care for a scone?' she said.
Granny looked hard at hers before she bit. Magrat had baked bat designs on it. They had little eyes made of currants.
The coach crashed through the trees at the forest edge, ran on two wheels for a few seconds as it hit a stone, righted itself against all the laws of balance, and rumbled on. But it was going slower now. The slope was dragging at it.
The coachman, standing upright in the manner of a charioteer, pushed his hair out of his eyes and peered through the murk. No-one lived up here, in the lap of the Ramtops themselves, but there was a light ahead. By all that was merciful, there was a light there.
An arrow buried itself in the coach roof behind him.
Meanwhile King Verence, monarch of Lancre, was making a discovery.
Like most people – most people, at any rate, below the age of sixty or so – Verence hadn't exercised his mind much about what happened to you when you died. Like most people since the dawn of time, he assumed it all somehow worked out all right in the end.
you good to get out,' said Nanny happily.
Magrat had been disappointed about the dancing, and was relieved that she hadn't ventured one or two other ideas that had been on her mind. She fumbled in the packet she had brought with her. It was her first sabbat, and she was determined to do it right.
'Would anyone care for a scone?' she said.
Granny xMeanwhile King Verence, monarch of Lancre, was making a discovery.
Like most people – most people, at any rate, below the age of sixty or so – Verence hadn't exercised his mind much about what happened to you when you died. Like most people since the dawn of time, he assumed it all somehow worked out all right in the end. you good to get out,' said Nanny happily.
Magrat had been disappointed about the dancing, and was relieved that she hadn't ventured one or two other ideas that had been on her mind. She fumbled in the packet she had brought with her. It was her first sabbat, and she was determined to do it right.
'Would anyone care for a scone?' she said.
Granny looked hard at hers before she bit. Magrat had baked bat designs on it. They had little eyes made of currants.
The coach crashed through the trees at the forest edge, ran on two wheels for a few seconds as it hit a stone, righted itself against all the laws of balance, and rumbled on. But it was going slower now. The slope was dragging at it.
The coachman, standing upright in the manner of a charioteer, pushed his hair out of his eyes and peered through the murk. No-one lived up here, in the lap of the Ramtops themselves, but there was a light ahead. By all that was merciful, there was a light there.
An arrow buried itself in the coach roof behind him.
Meanwhile King Verence, monarch of Lancre, was making a discovery.
Like most people – most people, at any rate, below the age of sixty or so – Verence hadn't exercised his mind much about what happened to you when you died. Like most people since the dawn of time, he assumed it all somehow worked out all right in the end.
Thursday, March 12, 2009
Unknown Artist Tango Rouge by Hamish Blakely
Unknown Artist Tango Rouge by Hamish BlakelyUnknown Artist Aeneas Carrying Anchises by Carl van LooPablo Picasso BULLFIGHT DEATH OF THE TOREADOR La corrida
Goodie watched him for some time, with her head on one side. Then she said, 'I see. What is your name, young man?'
'Mort,' sniffed shooed him out into the snow and followed behind him, pulling the door shut and locking it with a heavy iron key which she hung on a nail by the door.
The frost had tightened its grip on the forest, squeezing it until the roots creaked. The moon was setting, but the sky was full of hard white stars that made the winter seem colder still. Goodie Hamstring shivered.Mort. 'Short for Mortimer.''Well, Mort, I expect you've got an hourglass somewhere about your person,'Mort nodded vaguely. He reached down to his belt and produced the glass. The witch inspected it critically.'Still a minute or so,' she said. 'We don't have much time to lose. Just give me a moment to lock p.''But you don't understand!' Mort wailed. 'I'll mess it all up! I've never done this before!'She patted his hand. 'Neither have I,' she said. 'We can learn together. Now pick up the scythe and try to act your age, there's a good boy.'Against his protestations she
Goodie watched him for some time, with her head on one side. Then she said, 'I see. What is your name, young man?'
'Mort,' sniffed shooed him out into the snow and followed behind him, pulling the door shut and locking it with a heavy iron key which she hung on a nail by the door.
The frost had tightened its grip on the forest, squeezing it until the roots creaked. The moon was setting, but the sky was full of hard white stars that made the winter seem colder still. Goodie Hamstring shivered.Mort. 'Short for Mortimer.''Well, Mort, I expect you've got an hourglass somewhere about your person,'Mort nodded vaguely. He reached down to his belt and produced the glass. The witch inspected it critically.'Still a minute or so,' she said. 'We don't have much time to lose. Just give me a moment to lock p.''But you don't understand!' Mort wailed. 'I'll mess it all up! I've never done this before!'She patted his hand. 'Neither have I,' she said. 'We can learn together. Now pick up the scythe and try to act your age, there's a good boy.'Against his protestations she
Wednesday, March 11, 2009
Thomas Kinkade Beacon of hope
Thomas Kinkade Beacon of hopeThomas Kinkade The Sea Of TranquilityThomas Kinkade The Beginning of a Perfect Day
'Um. Thank you,' said Mort. He held the hourglasses up to the light, noting the one that was on its very last few grains of sand.
'Does this mean I'm in charge?' he called, but Death had turned the corner.
Binky Behind them Cutwell burst out of his doorway, accelerating down the frosty street with his robes flying out behind him.
Now the horse was cantering, widening the distance between its hooves and the cobbles. With greeted him with a faint whinny of recognition. Mort mounted up, his heart pounding with apprehension and responsibility. His fingers worked automatically, taking the scythe out of its sheath and adjusting and locking the blade (which flashed steely blue in the night, slicing the starlight like salami). He mounted carefully, wincing at the stab from his saddlesores, but Binky was like riding a pillow. As an afterthought, drunk with delegated authority, he pulled Death's riding cloak out of its saddlebag and fastened it by its silver brooch.He took another look at the first hourglass, and nudged Binky with his knees. The horse sniffed the chilly air, and began to trot.
'Um. Thank you,' said Mort. He held the hourglasses up to the light, noting the one that was on its very last few grains of sand.
'Does this mean I'm in charge?' he called, but Death had turned the corner.
Binky Behind them Cutwell burst out of his doorway, accelerating down the frosty street with his robes flying out behind him.
Now the horse was cantering, widening the distance between its hooves and the cobbles. With greeted him with a faint whinny of recognition. Mort mounted up, his heart pounding with apprehension and responsibility. His fingers worked automatically, taking the scythe out of its sheath and adjusting and locking the blade (which flashed steely blue in the night, slicing the starlight like salami). He mounted carefully, wincing at the stab from his saddlesores, but Binky was like riding a pillow. As an afterthought, drunk with delegated authority, he pulled Death's riding cloak out of its saddlebag and fastened it by its silver brooch.He took another look at the first hourglass, and nudged Binky with his knees. The horse sniffed the chilly air, and began to trot.
Salvador Dali The Persistence of Memory
Salvador Dali The Persistence of MemorySalvador Dali Figure at a WindowGeorgia O'Keeffe From the Lake No. 1
said Mort, and then remembered. 'Only I think I left them in the shop. Dad, we left the sack in the clothes shop!'
'It'll be shut,' said Lezek. 'Shops don't open on Hogswatch Day. You'll have to go back the day after tomorrow – well, tomorrow now.'
IT is OF LITTLE ACCOUNT, said Death. WE WILL LEAVE NOW. NO DOUBT I SOON ENOUGH.
'I hope you'll be able to drop in and see us soon,' said Lezek. He seemed to be struggling with his thoughts.
'I'm not with some difficulty in view of their difference in height, and gently propelled him across the square.
'Mort, you know your uncle Hemesh told me about this .
'Yes?'
'Well, he told me something else,' the old man confided. 'He said it's not unknown for an apprentice to inherit his do you think of that, then?'sure that will be a good idea,' said Mort.'Well, goodbye, lad,' said Lezek. 'You're to do what you're told, you understand? And – excuse me, sir, do you have a son?'Death looked rather taken aback.NO, he said, I HAVE NO SONS.'I'll just have a last word with my boy, if you've no objection.'THEN I WILL GO AND SEE TO THE HORSE, said Death, with more than normal tact.Lezek put his arm around his son's shoulders,
said Mort, and then remembered. 'Only I think I left them in the shop. Dad, we left the sack in the clothes shop!'
'It'll be shut,' said Lezek. 'Shops don't open on Hogswatch Day. You'll have to go back the day after tomorrow – well, tomorrow now.'
IT is OF LITTLE ACCOUNT, said Death. WE WILL LEAVE NOW. NO DOUBT I SOON ENOUGH.
'I hope you'll be able to drop in and see us soon,' said Lezek. He seemed to be struggling with his thoughts.
'I'm not with some difficulty in view of their difference in height, and gently propelled him across the square.
'Mort, you know your uncle Hemesh told me about this .
'Yes?'
'Well, he told me something else,' the old man confided. 'He said it's not unknown for an apprentice to inherit his do you think of that, then?'sure that will be a good idea,' said Mort.'Well, goodbye, lad,' said Lezek. 'You're to do what you're told, you understand? And – excuse me, sir, do you have a son?'Death looked rather taken aback.NO, he said, I HAVE NO SONS.'I'll just have a last word with my boy, if you've no objection.'THEN I WILL GO AND SEE TO THE HORSE, said Death, with more than normal tact.Lezek put his arm around his son's shoulders,
Monday, March 9, 2009
Franz Marc Blue Horse
Franz Marc Blue HorseMarc Chagall The Three CandlesMarc Chagall Paris Through the Window
around with the Pleistocene). And the words people said were just shadows of real things. But some things were too big to be really trapped in words, and even the words were too powerful to be completely tamed by writing So it followed that actually trying to become things. Esk's thoughts became confused things at this point, but she was certain that the really magic words were the ones that pulsed angrily, trying to escape and pointy boots at the instructor. It was very restful, with the droning of the lecturers drifting over her as gently as the buzzing of the slightly zonked bees in Granny's never seemed to be any practical magic, it always seemed to be just words. Wizards seemed to like words.
But yesterday had been different. Esk had been sitting in the dusty gloom, trying to do even some very simple magic, when she heard the door open and boots clump across the floor. That was surprising become real. They didn't look very nice. But then she remembered the previous day. It had been rather odd. The University classrooms were designed on the funnel principle, with tiers of seats - polished by the bottoms of the Disc's greatest mages - looking precipitously down into a central area where there was a workbench, a couple of blackboards and enough floor space for a decent-sized instructional octogram. There was a lot of dead space under the tiers and Esk had found it a quite useful observation post, peering around between the apprentice wizards'
around with the Pleistocene). And the words people said were just shadows of real things. But some things were too big to be really trapped in words, and even the words were too powerful to be completely tamed by writing So it followed that actually trying to become things. Esk's thoughts became confused things at this point, but she was certain that the really magic words were the ones that pulsed angrily, trying to escape and pointy boots at the instructor. It was very restful, with the droning of the lecturers drifting over her as gently as the buzzing of the slightly zonked bees in Granny's never seemed to be any practical magic, it always seemed to be just words. Wizards seemed to like words.
But yesterday had been different. Esk had been sitting in the dusty gloom, trying to do even some very simple magic, when she heard the door open and boots clump across the floor. That was surprising become real. They didn't look very nice. But then she remembered the previous day. It had been rather odd. The University classrooms were designed on the funnel principle, with tiers of seats - polished by the bottoms of the Disc's greatest mages - looking precipitously down into a central area where there was a workbench, a couple of blackboards and enough floor space for a decent-sized instructional octogram. There was a lot of dead space under the tiers and Esk had found it a quite useful observation post, peering around between the apprentice wizards'
Vincent van Gogh Reaper
Vincent van Gogh ReaperEdmund Blair Leighton OffFord Madox Brown Work
was the Vice-Chancellor of Unseen University, and quite used to seeing vague scurrying figures getting on with essential but unimportant jobs like serving his meals and dusting his rooms. He was stupid, yes, in the particular well invent a male witch!"
"Warlocks," said Esk.
"Pardon me?"
"My granny says men can't be witches," said Esk. "She says if men tried to be witches they'd be wizards."
"She sounds a very wise woman," said Treatle.
"She says women should stick to what they're good at," Esk went on.
"Very sensible of her."way that very clever people can be stupid, and maybe he had all the tact of an avalanche and was as selfcentred as a tornado, but it would never have occurred to him that children were important enough to be unkind to. From long white hair to curly boots, Treatle was a wizard's wizard. He had the appropriate long bushy eyebrows, spangled robe and patriarchal beard that was only slightly spoiled by the yellow nicotine stains (wizards are celibate but, nevertheless, enjoy a good cigar. "It will all become clear to you when you grow up," he said. "It's an amusing idea, of course, a nice play on words. A female wizard! You might as
was the Vice-Chancellor of Unseen University, and quite used to seeing vague scurrying figures getting on with essential but unimportant jobs like serving his meals and dusting his rooms. He was stupid, yes, in the particular well invent a male witch!"
"Warlocks," said Esk.
"Pardon me?"
"My granny says men can't be witches," said Esk. "She says if men tried to be witches they'd be wizards."
"She sounds a very wise woman," said Treatle.
"She says women should stick to what they're good at," Esk went on.
"Very sensible of her."way that very clever people can be stupid, and maybe he had all the tact of an avalanche and was as selfcentred as a tornado, but it would never have occurred to him that children were important enough to be unkind to. From long white hair to curly boots, Treatle was a wizard's wizard. He had the appropriate long bushy eyebrows, spangled robe and patriarchal beard that was only slightly spoiled by the yellow nicotine stains (wizards are celibate but, nevertheless, enjoy a good cigar. "It will all become clear to you when you grow up," he said. "It's an amusing idea, of course, a nice play on words. A female wizard! You might as
Thursday, March 5, 2009
Wassily Kandinsky Several Circles
Wassily Kandinsky Several CirclesWassily Kandinsky Composition VIIIVincent van Gogh Sunflowers
Hardly ever," said Granny. "You wanted magic. Watch."
She put a hand into the struggling mass of insects and made a shrill, faint piping noise at the back of her throat. There was a movement in the mass, and a large bee, longer and fatter than the others, crawled on to her hand. A few workers followed it, stroking it and generally ministering to it.
"How did you do that?" said Esk.
"Ah," said "And I think it's time you learned a few secrets," she added.
At last, thought Esk.
"But first, we must pay our respects to the Hive," said Granny. She managed to sound the capital H.
Without thinking, Esk bobbed a curtsey.Granny, "Wouldn't you like to know?" "Yes. I would. That's why I asked, Granny," said Esk, severely. "Do you think I used magic?" Esk looked down at the queen bee. She looked up at the witch. "No," she said, "I think you just know a lot about bees." Granny grinned. "Exactly correct. That's one form of magic, of course." "What, just knowing things?" "Knowing things that other people don't know," said Granny. She carefully dropped the queen back among her subjects and closed the lid of the hive.
Hardly ever," said Granny. "You wanted magic. Watch."
She put a hand into the struggling mass of insects and made a shrill, faint piping noise at the back of her throat. There was a movement in the mass, and a large bee, longer and fatter than the others, crawled on to her hand. A few workers followed it, stroking it and generally ministering to it.
"How did you do that?" said Esk.
"Ah," said "And I think it's time you learned a few secrets," she added.
At last, thought Esk.
"But first, we must pay our respects to the Hive," said Granny. She managed to sound the capital H.
Without thinking, Esk bobbed a curtsey.Granny, "Wouldn't you like to know?" "Yes. I would. That's why I asked, Granny," said Esk, severely. "Do you think I used magic?" Esk looked down at the queen bee. She looked up at the witch. "No," she said, "I think you just know a lot about bees." Granny grinned. "Exactly correct. That's one form of magic, of course." "What, just knowing things?" "Knowing things that other people don't know," said Granny. She carefully dropped the queen back among her subjects and closed the lid of the hive.
Vincent van Gogh Road with Cypresses
Vincent van Gogh Road with CypressesVincent van Gogh Peach Tree in BlossomVincent van Gogh Orchard in BlossomVincent van Gogh Olive grove I
the square outside the gates several large bonfires had been lit, for effect as much as anything else, because the heat from the star was scorching.
'But you can still see the stars,' said Twoflower, 'the ther stars, I mean. The little ones. In a black sky.'
Rincewind ignored him. He was looking at the gates. A group of star people and citizens were trying to batter them .
'Just find me a knife,' said Rincewind. He started to tap stones.
Twoflower and Bethan looked at each other, and shrugged. A few minutes later they returned with a selection of knives, and Twoflower had even managed to find a sword.
'We just helped ourselves,' said Bethan.down.'It's hopeless,' said Bethan. 'We'll never get in. Where are you going?''For a walk,' said Rincewind. He was setting off determinedly down a side street.There were one or two freelance rioters here, mostly engaged in wrecking shops. Rincewind took no notice, but followed the wall until it ran parallel to a dark alley that had the usual unfortunate smell of all alleys, everywhere.Then he started looking very closely at the stonework. The wall here was twenty feet high, and topped with cruel metal spikes.'I need a knife,' he said.'You're going to cut your way through?' said Bethan
the square outside the gates several large bonfires had been lit, for effect as much as anything else, because the heat from the star was scorching.
'But you can still see the stars,' said Twoflower, 'the ther stars, I mean. The little ones. In a black sky.'
Rincewind ignored him. He was looking at the gates. A group of star people and citizens were trying to batter them .
'Just find me a knife,' said Rincewind. He started to tap stones.
Twoflower and Bethan looked at each other, and shrugged. A few minutes later they returned with a selection of knives, and Twoflower had even managed to find a sword.
'We just helped ourselves,' said Bethan.down.'It's hopeless,' said Bethan. 'We'll never get in. Where are you going?''For a walk,' said Rincewind. He was setting off determinedly down a side street.There were one or two freelance rioters here, mostly engaged in wrecking shops. Rincewind took no notice, but followed the wall until it ran parallel to a dark alley that had the usual unfortunate smell of all alleys, everywhere.Then he started looking very closely at the stonework. The wall here was twenty feet high, and topped with cruel metal spikes.'I need a knife,' he said.'You're going to cut your way through?' said Bethan
Tuesday, March 3, 2009
Vincent van Gogh Harvest Landscape
Vincent van Gogh Harvest LandscapeUnknown Artist Apple Tree with Red FruitGeorge Frederick Watts Orpheus and EurydiceGeorge Frederick Watts Orpheus and Eurydice detail
paused uncertainly, although that isn't precisely true because he was totally certain of several things, for example that he didn't want to jump, and that he certainly didn't want to face whatever it was coming up behind him, and that in the spirit world Twoflower was quite heavy, and that there were worse things than being dead.
'Name two,' he muttered, and jumped.
A few 'You call them rubbers,' said War.
RIGHT, RUBBERS, said Death. He looked up at the new star, puzzled as to what it might mean.
I THINK WE'VE GOT TIME, he repeated, a trifle uncertainly.seconds later the horsemen arrived and didn't stop when they reached the edge of the rock but simply rode into the air and reined their horses over nothingness.Death looked down.THAT ALWAYS ANNOYS ME, he said. I MIGHT AS WELL INSTALL A REVOLVING DOOR.'I wonder what they wanted!' said Pestilence.'Search me,' said War. though.''Right,' agreed Famine. 'Compelling, I thought.'WE'VE GOT TIME FOR ANOTHER FONDLE, said Death.'Rubber,' corrected War.RUBBER WHAT?
paused uncertainly, although that isn't precisely true because he was totally certain of several things, for example that he didn't want to jump, and that he certainly didn't want to face whatever it was coming up behind him, and that in the spirit world Twoflower was quite heavy, and that there were worse things than being dead.
'Name two,' he muttered, and jumped.
A few 'You call them rubbers,' said War.
RIGHT, RUBBERS, said Death. He looked up at the new star, puzzled as to what it might mean.
I THINK WE'VE GOT TIME, he repeated, a trifle uncertainly.seconds later the horsemen arrived and didn't stop when they reached the edge of the rock but simply rode into the air and reined their horses over nothingness.Death looked down.THAT ALWAYS ANNOYS ME, he said. I MIGHT AS WELL INSTALL A REVOLVING DOOR.'I wonder what they wanted!' said Pestilence.'Search me,' said War. though.''Right,' agreed Famine. 'Compelling, I thought.'WE'VE GOT TIME FOR ANOTHER FONDLE, said Death.'Rubber,' corrected War.RUBBER WHAT?
Monday, March 2, 2009
Leroy Neiman Lady Liberty
Leroy Neiman Lady LibertyLeroy Neiman Jour du SoleilLeroy Neiman Jazz HornsLeroy Neiman Island Hole at Sawgrass
The cottage was small, tumbledown and as ornate as a doily. Some mad whittler had got to work on it, Rincewind decided, and had created terrible havoc before he could be dragged away. Every door, every shutter had its clusters of wooden grapes and half-moon cutouts, and there were massed outbreaks of fretwork pinecones to keep it going?' said Rincewind. Twoflower touched a wall gingerly.
'It's all sticky!'
'Nougat,' said Swires.
cottage! Rincewind, a real—'
Rincewind nodded glumly. Yeah, the Confectionary School of Architecture,' he said. 'It never caught on.'
He looked suspiciously at the liquorice doorknocker.
'It sort of regenerates,' said Swires. 'Marvellous, really. You just don't get this all over the walls. He half expected a giant cuckoo to come hurtling out of an upper window.What he also noticed was the characteristic greasy feel in the air. Tiny green and purple sparks flashed from his fingernails.'Strong magical field,' he muttered. 'A hundred milli.''There's magic all over the place,' said Swires. 'An old witch used to live around here. She went a long time ago but the magic still keeps the house going.''Here, there's something odd about that door,' said Twoflower.Why should a house need magic
The cottage was small, tumbledown and as ornate as a doily. Some mad whittler had got to work on it, Rincewind decided, and had created terrible havoc before he could be dragged away. Every door, every shutter had its clusters of wooden grapes and half-moon cutouts, and there were massed outbreaks of fretwork pinecones to keep it going?' said Rincewind. Twoflower touched a wall gingerly.
'It's all sticky!'
'Nougat,' said Swires.
cottage! Rincewind, a real—'
Rincewind nodded glumly. Yeah, the Confectionary School of Architecture,' he said. 'It never caught on.'
He looked suspiciously at the liquorice doorknocker.
'It sort of regenerates,' said Swires. 'Marvellous, really. You just don't get this all over the walls. He half expected a giant cuckoo to come hurtling out of an upper window.What he also noticed was the characteristic greasy feel in the air. Tiny green and purple sparks flashed from his fingernails.'Strong magical field,' he muttered. 'A hundred milli.''There's magic all over the place,' said Swires. 'An old witch used to live around here. She went a long time ago but the magic still keeps the house going.''Here, there's something odd about that door,' said Twoflower.Why should a house need magic
Paul Cezanne Young Man with a Skull
Paul Cezanne Young Man with a SkullPaul Cezanne Trees in ParkPaul Cezanne The Railway CuttingPaul Cezanne The Hanged Man's House
snapped the troll. "I'm holding you, aren't I? Look."
Rincewind looked.
In front of him was a soft black night whose mist-muted stars glowed peacefully. But his eyes turned downwards, drawn by some irresistible fascination.
It was midnight curtains of water hurtled towards infinity as the sea swept around the island on its way to the long fall. A hundred yards below the wizard the largest sea salmon he had ever seen flicked itself out of the foam in a wild, jerky and ultimately hopeless leap. Then it fell back, over and over, in the golden underworld light.
Huge shadows grew out of that light like pillars supporting the roof of the universe. Hundreds of miles be
snapped the troll. "I'm holding you, aren't I? Look."
Rincewind looked.
In front of him was a soft black night whose mist-muted stars glowed peacefully. But his eyes turned downwards, drawn by some irresistible fascination.
It was midnight curtains of water hurtled towards infinity as the sea swept around the island on its way to the long fall. A hundred yards below the wizard the largest sea salmon he had ever seen flicked itself out of the foam in a wild, jerky and ultimately hopeless leap. Then it fell back, over and over, in the golden underworld light.
Huge shadows grew out of that light like pillars supporting the roof of the universe. Hundreds of miles be
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