Winslow Homer The Herring Net

Winslow Homer The Herring NetWinslow Homer The Fog WarningWinslow Homer Rowing Home
and the dwarf walked towards it, occasionally barging into each other by deliberate accident.
'Anyway, you so clever, he gave paper to me?'
'Hah! Can you read it, then? Can you?'
'No, I tell you to read it. That called del-eg-ay-shun.'
'Hah! Can't read! Can't count! Stupid troll!'
'Not stupid!''How come you read notice? Get someone to hold you up?'
They walked into the door of the Alchemists' Guild.
'I knock. My job!'
'I'll knock!'
When Mr Sendivoge, the Guild secretary, opened the door it was to find a dwarf hanging on the knocker and being swung up and down by a troll. He adjusted his crash helmet.
'Yes?' he said.
Cuddy let go.'Hah! Yes? Everyone knows trolls can't even count up to four!''Eater of rats!''How many fingers am I holding up? You tell me, Mr Clever Rocks in the Head.''Many,' Detritus hazarded.'Har har, no, five. You'll be in big trouble on payday. Sergeant Colon'11 say, stupid troll, he won't know how many dollars I give him! Hah! How come you read the notice about joining the Watch, anyway? Got someone to read it to you?'
Detritus'massive brows knitted.

Vincent van Gogh The potato eaters

Vincent van Gogh The potato eatersVincent van Gogh The Bedroom at ArlesVincent van Gogh Couple in the Park,Arles
Maybe the guards weren't so good now anyway. Politics. Hah! Watchmen like old Kepple would turn in their graves if they knew that the Watch had taken on a w—
And the world exploded.
The window blew in, peppering the wall behind Vimes'desk with fragments and cutting one of his ears.
He threw himself to the floor and rolled under the desk.
Right, that did it! The alchemists had blown up their Guild House for the last time, if Vimes had anything to do with it . . .of the city, such as they were, stopped outside the Guild Houses. The Guilds had their own laws. The Guild owned the . . .
He stopped.
Behind him, Lance-Constable Angua reached down and picked up a fragment of glass.
Then she stirred the debris with her foot.But when he peered over the window sill he saw, across the river, the column of dust rising over the Assassins' Guild . . . The rest of the Watch came trotting along Filigree Street as Vimes reached the Guild entrance. A couple of black-clad Assassins barred his way, in a polite manner which nevertheless indicated that impoliteness was a future option. There were sounds of hurrying feet behind the gates.'You see this badge? You see it?' Vimes demanded.'Nevertheless, this is Guild property,' said an Assassin.'Let us in, in the name of the law!' bellowed Vimes.The Assassin smiled nervously at him. 'The law is that Guild law prevails inside Guild walls,' he said.Vimes glared at him. But it was true. The laws

Johannes Vermeer View Of Delft

Johannes Vermeer View Of DelftJohannes Vermeer The Kitchen MaidDiane Romanello Sunset BeachGustav Klimt The Virgins (Le Vergini)
Ogg turned to look at it.
“She arranged it all!” said Magrat. “You know what
Verence is like. I mean, she hardly disguised who she was,
did she? And I got back and it was all arranged—“
“What would , in what Magrat thought of as her nursery voice.
“Yes, but she pushed me on one side and shut me up in
the castle and I got so wound up—“
“You were so angry that you actually stood Up to the Queen. You actually laid hands on her,” said Nanny. “Well done. The old Magrat wouldn’t have done that, would she? Esme could always see the real thing. Now nip out of the back door and look at the log pile, there’s a love.”you have done if nothing had been arranged?” said Nanny.Magrat looked momentarily taken aback.292LOR06 ft^O Lft0/£6“Well, I would ... I mean, if he had ... I’d—““You’d be getting married today, would you?” said Nanny, but in a distant voice, as if she was thinking about something else.“Well, that depends on—““You want to, don’t you?”“Well, yes, of course, but—““That’s nice, then,” said Nanny

Pop art miles 1960, on rust

Pop art miles 1960, on rustPop art miles 1960, on bluePop art long stage ray
pleasing noise.”
“What?”
“Just thinking to myself.” Magrat stood up. “OK. I’ll build up the fire and fetch a couple of crossbows and load them up for you. And you keep the door shut and let no one in, d’you hear? And if I don’t come back ... try and go somewhere where there’s people. Get up to the dwarfs at Copperhead. Or the trolls.”
“What are you going to do?”
“I’m going to see what’s happened to everyone.”
Magrat opened the sack she’d brought down from the
armory. There was a helmet in it. It had wings on, and to
231or the other.”
“But—“
“Shut up!”
She’s going to get killed, Shawn thought. It’s enough to be able to pick up a sword. You Terry PratehettShawn’s mind was quite impractical.* There was also a pair of mail gloves and a choice assortment of rusty weaponry.“But there’s probably more of those things out there!”“Better out there than in here.”“Can you fight?”“Don’t know. Never tried,” said Magrat.“But if we wait here, someone’s bound to come.”“Yes. I’m afraid they will.”“What I mean is, you don’t have to do this!”“Yes I do. I’m getting married tomorrow. One way

Thomas Gainsborough River Landscape

Thomas Gainsborough River LandscapeThomas Gainsborough Mary Countess of HoweThomas Gainsborough John Plampin
Tis his delight every night,” said Jason.
“Hey,” said Baker the weaver, “we’re getting really good at this rude mechanism, ain’t we?”
“Let’s go right,” said Jason.
“Nah, it’s all briars and thorns that way.”
“All right, then, left then.”
141
Terry “Ah, come on,” said Weaver. “What’s wrong with it?”
“Goes up to the Dancers, that path does,” said Jason. “Me mam said no one was to go up to the Dancers ‘cos of them young women dancing round ‘em in the nudd.”
“Yeah, but they’ve been stopped from that,” said Thatcher. “Old Granny Weatherwax put her foot down hard and made ‘em put their drawers on.”
“And they ain’t to go there anymore, neither,” said Carter. “So it’ll be nice and quiet for the rehearsing.”
“Me mam said no one was to go there,” said JasonPratchett“It’s all winding,” said Weaver.“What about the middle road?” said Carter.Jason peered ahead.There was a middle track, hardly more than an animalpath, which wound away under shady trees. Ferns grewthickly alongside it. There was a general green, rich, darkfeel to it, suggested by the word “bosky”*His blacksmith’s senses stood up and screamed.“Not that way,” he said.

George Bellows Fog Rainbow

George Bellows Fog RainbowGeorge Bellows Both Members of This ClubGeorge Bellows Anne in White
flowed out from the ears like porridge. It was the kind of landscape where, if you saw a distant figure cutting cab-bages, you’d watch him until he was out of sight because there was simply nothing else for the eye to do.
“I spy,” said the Bursar, “with my little eye, something beginning with .. . H.”
“Oook.”
“No.”
“Horizon,” said Ponder.
“You guessed!”
“Of course I guessed. I’m supposed to guess. We’ve had S for Sky, C for Cabbage, 0 for ... for Ook, and there’s nothing else.”
“I’m not on it. Someone was going to suffer for this.
The Bursar was trying to use his hat like a limpet uses its shell.
86
LOR08 ft/VO iftQ/£6going to play anymore if you’re going to guess.” The Bursar pulled his hat down over his ears and tried to curl up on the hard seat.“There’ll be lots to see in Lancre,” said the Archchancellor. “The only piece of flat land they’ve got up there is in a museum.”Ponder said nothing.“Used to spend whole summers up there,” said Ridcully. He sighed. “You know . . . things could have been very different.”Ridcully looked around. If you’re going to relate an inti-mate piece of personal history, you want to be sure it’s going to be heard.The Librarian looked out at the jolting scenery. He was sulking. This had a lot to do with the new bright blue collar around his neck with the word “PONGO’
“There was this girl.”

Andy Warhol Pink Cow

Andy Warhol Pink CowAndy Warhol Ingrid with HatAndy Warhol Flowers 1964
Simony clenched his fists in anger.
"Look . . . listen . . . We died for lies, for centuries we died for lies." He waved a hand towards the god. "Now we've got a truth to die for!"
"No. Men should die for lies, every day of along life."
"And how long is that going to be?"
"We shall see."
Brutha looked up at Om.
"You will not show yourself like this again?"
Chap. III v. I. No. Once Is Enough.
"Remember Urn and Simony watched him go.
"He's going to die," said Simony. "He won't even be a patch of grease on the sand." He turned to Om. "Can you stop him?"
III. It May Be That I Cannot.
Brutha was already halfway across the Place.
"Well, we're not deserting him," said Simony.the desert."II. I Will Remember."Walk with me."Brutha went over to the body of Vorbis and picked it up."I think," he said, "that they will land on the beach on the Ephebian side of the forts. They won't use the rock shore and they can't use the cliffs. I'll meet them there." He glanced down at Vorbis. "Someone should.""You can't mean you want to go by yourself?""Ten thousand won't be sufficient. One might be enough."He walked down the steps.
IV. Good.

Winslow Homer Gloucester Harbor

Winslow Homer Gloucester HarborEdward Hopper Second Story SunlightEdward Hopper Route 6 Eastham
Chilopoda aridius, the common desert centipede, his memory resident library supplied
-scuttled beneath the altar.
"Yes," said Brutha. "We will." He raised the bowl over his head, and turned.
Om ducked into his shell.
"But here-” Brutha gritted his teeth as he staggered under the weight. "And now-”
He threw the years' time we'll all be dead, you said."
"Yes! Yes!" said Om desperately. "But here and now-”
"Right."
spoken many times to crowds in Ephebe, but they were invariably made up of other philosophers, whose shouts of "Bloody daft!," "You're making it up as you go along!" and other contributions to the debate always put him at his ease. That was because no one really paid any attention. They were just working out what they were going to say next.
But this crowd put him in mind of Brutha. Their listening was like a huge pit waiting for his words to fill it. The trouble was that he was talking in philosophy, but they were listening in gibberish
Didactylos smiled. It wasn't something that came easily to him. It wasn't that he was a somber man, but he could not see the smiles of others. It took several dozen muscle movements to smile, and there was no return on his investment.

John William Waterhouse The Siren

John William Waterhouse The SirenJohn William Waterhouse The Lady ClareJohn William Waterhouse FloraJohn William Waterhouse Circe offering the Cup to Ulysses
Next day the ship rounded a headland and the bay of Ephebe lay before it, with the city a white smudge on the horizon which time and distance turned into a spilling of blindingly white houses, all the way up a rock.
It seemed of considerable interest to Sergeant Simony. Brutha had not exchanged a word with him. And always silent, except when spoken to. Brutha tried to be friends.
"Looks very . . . white, doesn't it?" he said. "The city. Very white. Sergeant Simony?"
The sergeant turned slowly, and stared at Brutha.
Vorbis's gaze was dreadful. Vorbis looked through your head to the sins inside, hardly interested in you except as a vehicle for your sins. But Simony's glance was pure, simple hatred.
Brutha stepped back.Fraternization between clergy and soldiers was not encouraged; there was a certain tendency to unholiness about soldiers . . .Brutha, left to his own devices again as the crew made ready for port, watched the soldier carefully. Most soldiers were a bit slovenly and generally rude to minor clergy. Simony was different. Apart from anything else, he gleamed. His breastplate hurt the eyes. His skin looked scrubbed.The sergeant stood at the prow, staring fixedly as the city drew nearer. It was unusual to see him very far away from Vorbis. Wherever Vorbis stood there was the sergeant, hand on sword, eyes scanning the surroundings for . . . what?

Andy Warhol Guns

Andy Warhol GunsAndy Warhol Gun 1982Andy Warhol Dollar Sign 1981
assumed the creased-eyebrow squint that meant serious thought was being undertaken. " `Let the holy fire destroy utterly the unbeliever.' That's verse sixty-five."
"Did I say that?"
"In the Year of the Lenient Vegetable the Bishop Kreeblephor converted a demon by the power of reason alone," said

There was a bit of breeze on the roof of the Citadel. It also offered a good view of the high desert.
Fri'it and Drunah waited for a while to get their breath back.Brutha. "It actually joined the Church and became a subdeacon. Or so it is said.""Fighting I don't mind," the tortoise began."Your lying tongue cannot tempt me, reptile," said Brutha. "For I am strong in my faith!"The tortoise grunted with effort."Smite you with thunderbolts!"A small, a very small black cloud appeared over Brutha's head and a small, a very small bolt of lightning lightly singed an eyebrow.It was about the same strength as the spark off a cat's fur in hot dry weather."Ouch!""Now do you believe me?" said the tortoise.

John Collier Spring

John Collier SpringCaravaggio The Crucifixion of Saint PeterCaravaggio The Cardsharps
minute later the tortoise finds the world dropping away from it. And it sees the world for the first time, no longer one inch from the ground but five hundred feet above it, and it thinks: what a great friend I have in the eagle.
And then the eagle lets go.
And almost always the tortoise plunges to its death. Everyone knows why the tortoise does this. Gravity is a habit that is took place above the snowline, thousands of miles away in the mountains around the Hub.[1]
One of the recurring philosophical questions is:
"Does a falling tree in the forest make a sound when there is no one to hear?"
Which says something about the nature of philosophers, because there is always someone in a forest. It may only be a badger, wondering what that cracking noise was, or a squirrel hard to shake off. No one knows why the eagle does this. There's good eating on a tortoise but, considering the effort involved, there's much better eating on practically anything else. It's simply the delight of eagles to torment tortoises.But of course, what the eagle does not realize is that it is participating in a very crude form of natural selection.One day a tortoise will learn how to fly. The story takes place in desert lands, in shades of umber and orange. When it begins and ends is more problematical, but at least one of its beginnings

Paul Cezanne Table Corner

Paul Cezanne Table CornerPaul Cezanne Still Life with Soup TureenPaul Cezanne Still Life with Fruit Pitcher and Fruit-Vase
got through, didn't he?' said Rincewind.
There was a tapped Rincewind on the shoulder. As he swung around, the first hook hung a yellowing notice on his back and retracted into the roof.
'What'd it do? What'd it do?’ screamed Rincewind, try­ing to read his own shoulderblades.
'It says, Kick Me,' said Conina.
A section of wall slid up beside the petrified wizard. A large boot on the end of a complicated noise like a damp finger dragged across glass, but amplified a billion times, and the floor shook.'Anyway, we haven't got a lot of choice,' he added, and ducked into the tunnel. The others followed him. Many people who had got to know Rincewind had come to treat him as a sort of two-legged miner's canary[20] and tended to assume that if Rincewind was still upright and not actually running then some hope remained.'This is fun,' said Creosote. 'Me, robbing my own treasury. If I catch myself I can have myself flung into the snake pit.''But you could throw yourself on your mercy,' said Conina, running a paranoid eye over the dusty stone­work.'Oh, no. I think I would have to teach me a lesson, as an example to myself.'There was a little click above them. A small slab slid aside and a rusty metal hook descended slowly and jerkily. Another bar creaked out of the wall and

Rodney White Share a Random Moment

Rodney White Share a Random MomentUnknown Artist Woodland WalkUnknown Artist football
to edge with prime lean pork, with none oft hose spacious areas of good fresh air under the lid that represented his own profit margin. It was the kind of pie piglets hope to be when they grew up.
His heart sank. His ruin was floating in front of him with short-crust pastry on it.
'Want a taste?' him out of a dreadful dream in which a hundred masked women were attempting to trim his hair with broadswords and cutting it very fine indeed. Some people, having a nightmare like that, would dismiss it as castration anxiety, but Rincewind's subconscious knew being-cut-to-tiny-bits-mortal dread when it saw it. It saw it most of the time.
He sat up.said the wizard. 'There's plenty more where that came from.''Wherever it came from,' said Ardrothy.He looked past the shiny pastry to the face of the wizard, and in the manic gleam of those eyes he saw the world turning upside down.He turned away, a broken man, and set out for the nearest city gate.As if it wasn't bad enough that wizards were killing people, he thought bitterly, they were taking away their livelihood as well. A bucket of water splashed into Rincewind's face, jerking

Sung Kim Paradise

Sung Kim ParadiseSung Kim Palm ReflectionSung Kim Overlook Cafe II
didn't blush!'
'Precisely,' said Carding, 'my point.'
'All right,' Spelter conceded. 'But you think you know something else.'
The fat wizard shrugged. 'A mere suspicion of a hunch,' he said. 'But why should I ally,' he rolled the unfamiliar word around The two spells cannoned into one another, turned into a ball of green fire and exploded, filling the room with fine yellow crystals.
The wizards exchanged the kind of long, slow glare you could roast chestnuts on.
Bluntly, Carding was surprised. He shouldn't have been. Eighth-level wizards are seldom faced with challenging tests of magical skill. In theory there are only sevenhis tongue, 'with you, a mere fifth level? I could more certainly obtain the information by rendering down your living brain. I mean no offence, you understand, I ask only for knowledge.'The events of the next few seconds happened far too fast to be understood by non-wizards, but went approximately like this:Spelter had been drawing the signs of Megrim's Accelerator in the air under cover of the table. Now he muttered a syllable under his breath and fired the spell along the tabletop, where it left a smoking path in the varnish and met, about halfway, the silver snakes of Brother Hushmaster's Potent Asp-Spray as they spewed from Carding's fingertips.

Guido Reni Salome with the head of St John the Baptist

Guido Reni Salome with the head of St John the BaptistGuido Reni CleopatraGuido Reni Reni Charity
Yes, I do. And I think, somehow, that they do too.’ but he’ll become a wolfman.
‘Yes. And she’ll become a wolfwoman.’ all Tight, but what kind of relationship can people have one week in four? ‘Maybe at least as good a chance of happiness as most people get. Life isn’t perfect, One-Man-Bucket.’ you’re telling me?
‘Now, can I ask you a personal question?’ said Windle. ‘I mean I’ve just got to know . . .’ huh.
‘After allout ten seconds before me to give him his name. Windle Poons thought about it.
‘Don’t tell me, let me guess,’ he said. ‘Two-Dogs-Fighting?’

Two-Dogs-Fighting a Two-Dogs-Fighting? said One-Man-Bucket. Wow, he’d have given his right arm to be called Two-Dogs-Fighting.
It was later that the story of Windle Poons really came to an end, if “story, you’ve got the astral plane to yourself again.’ oh, all right.‘Why are you called One -‘ is that all? I thought you could work that one out, a clever man like you. in my tribe we’re traditionally named after the First thing the mother sees when she looks out of the teepee after the birth. it’s short for One-Man-Pouring-a-Bucket-of- Water-over-Two-Dogs.‘That’s pretty unfortunate, ‘ said Windle. it’s not too bad, said One-Man-Bucket. it was my twin brother you had to feel sorry for. she looked

Thomas Kinkade Pinocchio Wishes Upon a Star

Thomas Kinkade Pinocchio Wishes Upon a StarCao Yong CatalinaUnknown Artist Lazlo Emmerich Kenya
The mobile stage,’ breathed Windle Poons.
The wire basket tried to inch backwards without appearing to move.
Lupine growled.
‘Is that what would be something that would be handy, and get everywhere, and no-one would ever think it had got there by itself. But it’s all happening at the wrong time!’
‘But how can a city be alive? It’s only made up of dead parts !’ said Ludmilla.
‘So’re people. Take it from me. I know. But you are right, I think. This shouldn’t be happening. It’s all this extra life force. It’s . . . it’s tipping the balance. It’s turning something that isn’t really real into a reality. And it’s happening too early, and it’s happening too ‘Oh, the poor thing! Look at him!’
Ludmilla rushed across the floor and knelt down by the stricken wolf.One-Man-Bucket was talking about?’ said Ludmilla. The trolley vanished. The Librarian grunted, and went after it. ‘Oh, yes. Something that would make itself useful,’ said Windle, suddenly almost maniacally cheerful. ‘That’s how it’d work. First, something that you’d want to keep, and put away somewhere. Thousands wouldn’t get the right conditions, but that wouldn’t matter, because there would be thousands. And then the next stage

Leonardo da Vinci Madonna Litta

Leonardo da Vinci Madonna LittaLeonardo da Vinci Female HeadLeonardo da Vinci Annunciation
The girl’s still in there,’ said Miss Flitworth. ‘Is that what he said?’
YES.
Flames curtained every upper window.
‘There’s got to at her knuckles.
‘You leave my farm tonight, Mr Bill Door,’ she growled. ‘Understand?’
Then she turned on her heel and ran towards the pump. Some of the men had brought long hooks to drag the burning thatch off the roof. Miss Flitworth organised a team to get a ladder up to one of the bedroom windows but, by the time a man was persuaded to climb it behind the steaming protection of a damp blanket, the top of the be some way,’ said Miss Flitworth. ‘Maybe we could find a ladder -‘ WE SHOULD NOT.‘What? We’ve got to try. We can’t leave people in there!’ YOU DON’T UNDERSTAND, said Bill Door. TO TINKER WITH THE FATE OF ONE INDIVIDUAL COULD DESTROY THE WHOLE WORLD.Miss FIitworth looked at him as if he had gone mad.‘What kind of garbage is that?’I MEAN THAT THERE IS A TIME FOR EVERYONE TO DIE.She stared. Then she drew her hand back. and gave him a ringing slap across the face.He was harder than she’d expected. She yelped and sucked

Salvador Dali Mirage

Salvador Dali MirageSalvador Dali Melting WatchSalvador Dali Dream Caused by the Flight of a Bee around a Pomegranate
stared at them, mystified. He shook them, and watched the tiny snowfalls. He read the writing, noting how it wasn’t so door.
‘Hallo?’ he said.
A deep, rumbling, but very diffident voice said,
‘S’only me, Mr Poons.’
Windle wrinkled his forehead with the effort of recollection.
‘Schleppel?’ he said.much writing as a drawing of writing. He reached down and picked up the third object; it was a little bent metal wheel. Just one little metal wheel. And, beside it, a broken sphere.Windle stared at them.Of course, he had been a bit non-compos mentis in his last thirty years or so, and maybe he’d worn his underwear outside his clothes and dribbled a bit, but . . . he’d collected souvenirs? And little wheels? There was a cough behind him.Windle dropped the mysterious objects back into the hole and looked around. The room was empty, but there seemed to be a shadow behind the open

Louis Aston Knight A Riverside Cottage

Louis Aston Knight A Riverside CottageAndrea Mantegna Madonna with Sleeping ChildAlbert Bierstadt California SpringAlbert Bierstadt The Mountain BrookJames Jacques Joseph Tissot Journey of the Magi
.’Take your time from me. One...two...’
Modo the gardener was trundling a barrow load of hedge trimmings to a bonfire behind the new High Energy Magic research building when about half a dozen wizards went past at, for wizards, high speed. Windle Poons was being borne aloft between them.
Modo again and pushed it thoughtfully towards the secluded area where he kept his bonfire, his compost heaps, his leaf-mould pile, and the little shed he sat in when it rained.
He used to be assistant gardener at the palace, but this job was a lot more interesting. You really got to see life.

Ankh-Morpork society is street society. There is always something interesting going on. At the moment, the driver of a two-horse fruit wagon was holding the Dean six inches in the air by the scruff of the heard him to say, ‘Really, Archchancellor, are you quite sure this one will work -?’‘We’ve got your best interests at heart,’ said Ridcully.‘I’m sure, but -‘‘We’ll soon have you feeling your old self again,’ said the Bursar.‘No, we won’t,’ hissed the Dean.’That’s the whole point!’ ‘We’ll soon have you not feeling your old self again, that’s the whole point,’ stuttered the Bursar, as they rounded the corner. Modo picked up the handles of the barrow