Jack Vettriano Couple On The PromenadeJack Vettriano Contemplation of Betrayal 2001Jack Vettriano cold Hearts
how,' said Scum. It was actually his name.
'No‑one knows how to play the drums,' said Crash patiently. 'There's nothing to know. You just hit them with the sticks.'
'Yeah, but what if I sort of miss?'
'Sit closer. tray of possible sausages and buns. There were a couple of sacks beside him.
'Sorry we're late,' said Glod, 'but we couldn't find your office anywhere.'
Dibbler spread his arms wide.
'This is my office,' he said, equally expansively. 'Sator Square! Thousands of square feet of space! Excellent communications! Passing trade! Try these on,' he added, picking up one Right,' said Crash, sitting back. 'Now . . . the important thing, the really important thing is . . . what're we going to call ourselves?'Cliff looked around.'Well, I reckon we look at every house and I'm damned if I see der name Dibbler anywhere,' he growled.Buddy nodded. Most of Sator Square was the frontage of the University, but there was room for a few other buildings. They were the sort that have a dozen brass plates by the door. The sort that hinted that even wiping your feet on the doormat was going to cost you dear.'Hello, boys.'They turned. Dibbler beamed at them over a
Thursday, May 14, 2009
Tuesday, May 12, 2009
Jack Vettriano The Purple Cat
Jack Vettriano The Purple CatJack Vettriano the PierJack Vettriano The Picnic Party
'Under your skin,' murmured Ridcully. He scratched his chin. 'Oh, dear. One of those. Stuff leakin' into the universe again, eh? Influences coming from Outside, yes? Remember what happened when Mr Hong opened his takeaway fish bar on the site of the old temple in Dagon Street? And then there were those moving pictures. I was against them from the start. And having been seventeen; it was something that must have happened to him while he was busy. But it made him feel like he imagined it felt like when you were seventeen, which was like having a permanent red‑hot vest on under your skin.
He wanted to hear it again.
'I think they're going to have it again tonight,' he ventured. 'We could, er, go along and listen. In order to learn more about it, in case it's a threat to society,' he added virtuously.those wire things on wheels. This universe has more damn holes in it than a Quirm cheese. Well, at–’'Lancre cheese,' said the Senior Wrangler helpfully. 'That's the one with the holes. Quirm is the one with the blue veins.'Ridcully gave him a look.'Actually, it didn't feel magical,' said the Dean. He sighed. He was seventy‑two. It had made him feel that he was seventeen again. He couldn't remember
'Under your skin,' murmured Ridcully. He scratched his chin. 'Oh, dear. One of those. Stuff leakin' into the universe again, eh? Influences coming from Outside, yes? Remember what happened when Mr Hong opened his takeaway fish bar on the site of the old temple in Dagon Street? And then there were those moving pictures. I was against them from the start. And having been seventeen; it was something that must have happened to him while he was busy. But it made him feel like he imagined it felt like when you were seventeen, which was like having a permanent red‑hot vest on under your skin.
He wanted to hear it again.
'I think they're going to have it again tonight,' he ventured. 'We could, er, go along and listen. In order to learn more about it, in case it's a threat to society,' he added virtuously.those wire things on wheels. This universe has more damn holes in it than a Quirm cheese. Well, at–’'Lancre cheese,' said the Senior Wrangler helpfully. 'That's the one with the holes. Quirm is the one with the blue veins.'Ridcully gave him a look.'Actually, it didn't feel magical,' said the Dean. He sighed. He was seventy‑two. It had made him feel that he was seventeen again. He couldn't remember
Monday, May 11, 2009
Salvador Dali Leda Atomica
Salvador Dali Leda AtomicaJoseph Mallord William Turner The Grand Canal VeniceJoseph Mallord William Turner PortsmouthJohn Singer Sargent Lady Agnew
men walked through the ladder.
Either the men weren't exactly solid, and they certainly sounded solid enough, or there was something wrong with the ladder. But the girl had climbed it...
. . . and was now to do.'
'Why should I know? Do what? Whom to?' said Susan.
'Children, of course. Can't disappoint them, can I? Imagine their little faces when they lift up their little pillows, bless them.'
Ladder. Pliers. Teeth. Money. Pillows . . .climbing down again, slipping something into her pocket.'Never even woke up, the little cherub,' she said.'Sorry?' said Susan.'Didn't have Sop on me,' said the girl. She swung the ladder easily up on to her shoulder. 'Rules are rules. I had to take another tooth.''Pardon?''It's all audited, you see. I'd be in real trouble if the dollars and teeth didn't add up. You know how it is.''I do?''Still, can't stay here talking all night. Got sixty more
men walked through the ladder.
Either the men weren't exactly solid, and they certainly sounded solid enough, or there was something wrong with the ladder. But the girl had climbed it...
. . . and was now to do.'
'Why should I know? Do what? Whom to?' said Susan.
'Children, of course. Can't disappoint them, can I? Imagine their little faces when they lift up their little pillows, bless them.'
Ladder. Pliers. Teeth. Money. Pillows . . .climbing down again, slipping something into her pocket.'Never even woke up, the little cherub,' she said.'Sorry?' said Susan.'Didn't have Sop on me,' said the girl. She swung the ladder easily up on to her shoulder. 'Rules are rules. I had to take another tooth.''Pardon?''It's all audited, you see. I'd be in real trouble if the dollars and teeth didn't add up. You know how it is.''I do?''Still, can't stay here talking all night. Got sixty more
Friday, May 8, 2009
Thomas Gainsborough Mrs Sheridan
Thomas Gainsborough Mrs SheridanSandro Botticelli Venus and MarsJean Beraud La Rue de la Paix
‑ they glowed.
In theory it was, around now, Literature. Susan hated Literature. She'd much prefer to read a good book. Currently she had Wold's , school kept on trying to interfere with it.
Around her, the poet's vision was taken apart with inexpert tools.
The kitchen was built on the same gargantuan lines as the rest of the house. An army of cooks could get lost in it. The far walls were hidden in the shadows and the stovepipe, supported at intervals by soot‑covered chains and bits of greasy rope, disappeared into the gloom somewhere a quarter of a mile above the floor. At least, it did to the eye of the outsider.Logic and Paradox open on her desk and was reading it with her chin in her hands.She listened with half an ear to what the rest of the class was doing.It was a poem about daffodils.Apparently the poet had liked them very much.Susan was quite stoical about this. It was a free country. People could like daffodils if they wanted to. They just should not, in Susan's very definite and precise opinion, be allowed to take up more than a page to say so.She got on with her education. In her opinion
‑ they glowed.
In theory it was, around now, Literature. Susan hated Literature. She'd much prefer to read a good book. Currently she had Wold's , school kept on trying to interfere with it.
Around her, the poet's vision was taken apart with inexpert tools.
The kitchen was built on the same gargantuan lines as the rest of the house. An army of cooks could get lost in it. The far walls were hidden in the shadows and the stovepipe, supported at intervals by soot‑covered chains and bits of greasy rope, disappeared into the gloom somewhere a quarter of a mile above the floor. At least, it did to the eye of the outsider.Logic and Paradox open on her desk and was reading it with her chin in her hands.She listened with half an ear to what the rest of the class was doing.It was a poem about daffodils.Apparently the poet had liked them very much.Susan was quite stoical about this. It was a free country. People could like daffodils if they wanted to. They just should not, in Susan's very definite and precise opinion, be allowed to take up more than a page to say so.She got on with her education. In her opinion
Wednesday, May 6, 2009
Joaquin Sorolla y Bastida Stemming Raisins Javea
Joaquin Sorolla y Bastida Stemming Raisins JaveaJoaquin Sorolla y Bastida Sewing the SailJoaquin Sorolla y Bastida Ninos en el Mar
a quote. 'Big Fido said that?' Angua hazarded.
The poodle turned its head. For the first time she saw its eyes. They were red, and as mad as hell. Anything with eyes like that could There was no flash of light when It happened. He'd just been lying in his basket one night and he'd thought about his name, which was Fido, and the name on the basket, which was Fido. And he thought about his blanket with Fido on it, and his bowl with Fido on it, and above all he brooded on the collar with Fido on it, and something somewhere deep in his brain had gone 'click' and he'd eaten his blanket, savaged his owner and dived out through the kitchen window. In the street outside a labrador four times the size of Fido had sniggered at the collar, and thirty seconds later had fled, whimpering.
That had just been the start.kill anything it wanted because madness, true madness, can drive a fist through a plank.'Yes,' said Big Fido. He had been a normal dog. He'd begged, and rolled over, and heeled, and fetched. Every night he'd been taken for a walk.
a quote. 'Big Fido said that?' Angua hazarded.
The poodle turned its head. For the first time she saw its eyes. They were red, and as mad as hell. Anything with eyes like that could There was no flash of light when It happened. He'd just been lying in his basket one night and he'd thought about his name, which was Fido, and the name on the basket, which was Fido. And he thought about his blanket with Fido on it, and his bowl with Fido on it, and above all he brooded on the collar with Fido on it, and something somewhere deep in his brain had gone 'click' and he'd eaten his blanket, savaged his owner and dived out through the kitchen window. In the street outside a labrador four times the size of Fido had sniggered at the collar, and thirty seconds later had fled, whimpering.
That had just been the start.kill anything it wanted because madness, true madness, can drive a fist through a plank.'Yes,' said Big Fido. He had been a normal dog. He'd begged, and rolled over, and heeled, and fetched. Every night he'd been taken for a walk.
Sunday, May 3, 2009
Unknown Artist Albert Edelfelt Virginie
Unknown Artist Albert Edelfelt VirginieUnknown Artist Albert Edelfelt male nude 1George Stubbs Lion Devouring a HorseUnknown Artist Sea of Cortez Cabo San Lucas
actually a bad man. He didn't have the imagination. He dealt more in that sort of generalized low-grade unpleasantness which slightly tarnishes anything.'
'Captain Vimes—'
'It's all right. We know. Give him your weapons, people. That's an order, Carrot. One official issue sword, one pike or halberd, one night stick or truncheon, one crossbow. That's right, isn't it, Sergeant Colon?'
'Yessir.'
Carrot hesitated only a moment.
'Oh, well,' he said. 'My official sword is in the rack.'the soul of all who come into \people are in jobs that are a little beyond them, but there are ways of reacting to the situation. Sometimes they're flustered and nice, sometimes they're Quirke. Quirke handled them with the maxim: it doesn't matter if you're right or wrong, so long as you're definite. There was, on the whole, no real racial prejudice in Ankh-Morpork; when you've got dwarfs and trolls, the mere colour of other, humans is not a major item. But Quirke was the kind of man to whom it comes naturally to pronounce the word negro with two gs.He had a hat with plumes in it.'Come in, come in,' said Vimes. 'It wasn't as if we were doing
actually a bad man. He didn't have the imagination. He dealt more in that sort of generalized low-grade unpleasantness which slightly tarnishes anything.'
'Captain Vimes—'
'It's all right. We know. Give him your weapons, people. That's an order, Carrot. One official issue sword, one pike or halberd, one night stick or truncheon, one crossbow. That's right, isn't it, Sergeant Colon?'
'Yessir.'
Carrot hesitated only a moment.
'Oh, well,' he said. 'My official sword is in the rack.'the soul of all who come into \people are in jobs that are a little beyond them, but there are ways of reacting to the situation. Sometimes they're flustered and nice, sometimes they're Quirke. Quirke handled them with the maxim: it doesn't matter if you're right or wrong, so long as you're definite. There was, on the whole, no real racial prejudice in Ankh-Morpork; when you've got dwarfs and trolls, the mere colour of other, humans is not a major item. But Quirke was the kind of man to whom it comes naturally to pronounce the word negro with two gs.He had a hat with plumes in it.'Come in, come in,' said Vimes. 'It wasn't as if we were doing
Tuesday, April 28, 2009
Jean Auguste Dominique Ingres Napoleon I on His Imperial Throne
Jean Auguste Dominique Ingres Napoleon I on His Imperial ThroneJean Auguste Dominique Ingres Mme MoitessierJean Auguste Dominique Ingres La Grande baigneuse
There were various weapons, some of them half finished, on racks by the bench. Vimes picked up most of a crossbow.
'He did good work,' he said. 'Very good at mechanisms.'
'Well known for it,' 'I should think it is!'
'I mean, it's made to be buried with a dwarf. Every dwarf is buried with a weapon. You know? To take with him to . . . wherever he's going.'
'But it's fine workmanship! And it's got an edge like – aargh,' Vimes sucked his finger, 'like a razor.'
Carrot looked shocked. 'Of course. It'd be no good him facing them with an inferior weapon.'
'What them are you talking about?'said Carrot, poking around aimlessly on the bench. 'A very delicate hand. He made musical boxes for a hobby. Could never resist a mechanical challenge. Er. What are we looking for actually, sir?''Not sure. Now this is good . . .'It was a war axe, and so heavy that Vimes' arm sagged. Intricate etched lines covered the blade. It must have represented weeks of work.'Not your actual Saturday night special, eh?''Oh no,' said Carrot, 'that's a burial weapon.'
There were various weapons, some of them half finished, on racks by the bench. Vimes picked up most of a crossbow.
'He did good work,' he said. 'Very good at mechanisms.'
'Well known for it,' 'I should think it is!'
'I mean, it's made to be buried with a dwarf. Every dwarf is buried with a weapon. You know? To take with him to . . . wherever he's going.'
'But it's fine workmanship! And it's got an edge like – aargh,' Vimes sucked his finger, 'like a razor.'
Carrot looked shocked. 'Of course. It'd be no good him facing them with an inferior weapon.'
'What them are you talking about?'said Carrot, poking around aimlessly on the bench. 'A very delicate hand. He made musical boxes for a hobby. Could never resist a mechanical challenge. Er. What are we looking for actually, sir?''Not sure. Now this is good . . .'It was a war axe, and so heavy that Vimes' arm sagged. Intricate etched lines covered the blade. It must have represented weeks of work.'Not your actual Saturday night special, eh?''Oh no,' said Carrot, 'that's a burial weapon.'
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