Frederic Remington paintings

Frederic Remington paintings
Francisco de Goya paintings
Filippino Lippi paintings
temple, and, far away on the last spur, a glittering obelisk; her hands lay open in her lap and loosely between them, a rosary; she was fast asleep. Long hours of work in her youth, authority in middle life, repose and security in her age, had set their stamp on her lined and serene face’.

‘Well, ‘ she said, waking; ‘this is a surprise.’
Sebastian kissed her.
‘Who’s this?’ she said, looking at me. ‘I don’ t think I know him.’
Sebastian introduced us.
‘You’ve come just the right time. Julia’s here for the day. Such a time they’re all having. It’s dull without them. Just Mrs Chandler and two of the girls and old Bert. And then they’re all going on and the boiler’s being done out in August and you going to see his Lordship in Italy, and the rest on visits

Edward Hopper paintings

Edward Hopper paintings
Edgar Degas paintings
Emile Munier paintings
been? I told you to inspect the lines.’
‘ ‘M I late? Sorry. Had a rush getting my gear together.’
‘That’s what you have a servant for.’
‘Well, I suppose it is, strictly speaking. But you know how it is. He had his own stuff to do. If you get on the wrong side of these fellows they take it out of you other ways.’ ‘Well, go and inspect the lines,now.’
‘Rightyoh.’
‘And for Christ’s sake don’t say “rightyoh”.’
‘Sorry. I do try to remember. It just slips out.’
When Hooper left the sergeant-major returned.
‘C.O. just coming up the path, sir,’ he said.
I went out to meet him.
There were beads of moisture on the hog-bristles of his little red moustache.
‘Well, everything squared up here?’
‘Yes, I think so, sir.’
‘Think so? You ought to know.’

Leon Bazile Perrault paintings

Leon Bazile Perrault paintings
Leon-Augustin L'hermitte paintings
Lady Laura Teresa Alma-Tadema paintings
Nine o’clock struck and Ralfe paced his sell restlesly He put his hand to his hot head “could it be true? or was only a dreadful nightmare?” he flung himselfe on the hard bench “What if the trial did go against him? hung” he shuddered there was one window in his sell a small grating he could not escape.
Ralfe clung to the rail of the box as one witness after another rose and then suddenly there staggered into the room a young man his colar undone his tie twisted and blood on his face a bandage round his head. it was Tom. It is needless to desscribe the whole trial. Let it be said only that Tom’s arival saved Ralfe who was aquitted “without a stain on his character. Now he has a pretty wife and two children and often on Autumn evening they sit round the fire never tiered of following with their father his adventures and those of his brother in the race against time to get Fidon’s confetion.

Pierre-Auguste Cot spring painting

Pierre-Auguste Cot spring paintingWilliam Bouguereau the first kiss paintingClaude Monet Water Lily Pond painting
The Commissar confirmed that he had received instructions.
“I suggest we send the Kanyis.”
“He say, why de Kanyis?”
“Because they make most sense.”
“Pardon me?”
“Because they seem the most responsible pair.”
“De Commissar says, responsible for what?”
“They are the best able to put their case sensibly.”
A long discussion followed between the Commissar and Bakic. “He won’t send de Kanyis.”
“Why not?”
“Kanyi got plenty work with de dynamo.”
So another pair was chosen and sent to Bari, the grocer and the lawyer who had first called on him. Major Gordon saw them off. They seemed stupefied and sat huddled among bundles and blankets on the airfield during the long wait. Only when the aeroplane was

William Bouguereau Birth of Venus painting

William Bouguereau Birth of Venus paintingWilliam Bouguereau Nymphs and Satyr. paintingWilliam Bouguereau The Virgin with Angels painting
sometimes kind and give me employment, as at the present occasion. But at any moment they may make a trade agreement with the Russians and hand us over.”
Scott-King attempted to reply. .”
“J’en ai affreusement.”
“Évidemment, mon professeur. Il faut du cognac.”
The waiters had drunk and were drinking profusely of brandy and there was a bottle at hand. Scott-King tossed off a glassful and his affliction was doubled. He hiccuped without intermission throughout the long dinner.
This neighbour, who had so
“You must take some more brandy, Professor. It is the only thing. Often, I remember, in Ragusa I have had the hiccups

Lord Frederick Leighton The Last Watch of Hero painting

Lord Frederick Leighton The Last Watch of Hero paintingLord Frederick Leighton The Garden of the Hesperides paintingLord Frederick Leighton The Fisherman and the Syren painting
death his country has suffered every conceivable ill the body politic is heir to. Dynastic wars, foreign invasion, disputed successions, revolting colonies, endemic syphilis, impoverished soil, masonic intrigues, revolutions, restorations, cabals, juntas, pronunciamentos, liberations, constitutions, coups d’état, dictatorships, assassinations, agrarian reforms, popular elections, foreign intervention, repudiation of loans, inflations of currency, trades unions, massacres, arson, atheism, secret societies—make the list full, slip in as many personal foibles as you will, you will find all these in the last three centuries of Neutralian history. Out of it emerged the present republic of Neutralia, a typical modern state, governed by a single party, acclaiming a dominant Marshal, supporting a vast ill-paid bureaucracy whose work is tempered and humanized by corruption. This you must know; also that the Neutralians being a clever Latin race are little given to hero-worship and make considerable fun of their Marshal behind his back. In one thing only did he earn their full-hearted esteem. He kept out of the Second World War. Neutralia sequestered herself and, from having been the cockpit of factious sympathies, became remote, unconsidered

William Etty Hero and Leander painting

William Etty Hero and Leander paintingCarl Fredrik Aagard The Rose Garden paintingJean Fragonard The Swing 1767 painting
Yes, of course. How stupid of me. I always forget. There’s probably some in the dining room.”
He went out and I stayed with Lucy in her hired drawing room. She sat quite still listening to the announcer’s voice. She was five months gone with child—“Even Roger has to admit that it’s proletarian action,” she said later—but as yet scarcely showed it in body; but she was pale, paler, I guessed, than normal, and she wore that incurious, self-regarding expression which sometimes goes with a first Above the sound of the wireless I heard Basil outside, calling upstairs, “Roger. Where do you keep the cork-screw?” When they got to the stock prices, Lucy switched off. “Nothing from Madras,” she said. “But perhaps you aren’t interested in .”
“Not much,” I said.
“Very few of Roger’s friends seem to be.”
“It’s rather a new thing with him,” I said.
“I expect he doesn’t talk about it unless he thinks people are interested.”
That was outrageous, first because it amounted to the claim to know Roger better than I did and, secondly, because I was still smarting from the ruthless boredom of

Fabian Perez Balcony at Buenos Aires II painting

Fabian Perez Balcony at Buenos Aires II paintingFabian Perez Balcony at Buenos Aires I paintingJohannes Vermeer View Of Delft painting
their final stage, painting over a monochrome sketch, methodically, in fine detail, left to right across the canvas as though he were lifting the backing of a child’s “transfer.” “Do your thinking first,” he used to tell the Academy students. “Don’t muddle it out on the canvas. Have the whole composition clear in your head before you start,” and if anyone objected that this was seldom the method of the greatest masters, he would say, “You’re here to become Royal Academicians, not great masters. This was the way Ford Madox Brown worked, and it will be a great day for English art when one of you is half as good as he was. If you want to write books on Art, trot round Europe studying the Rubenses. If you want to learn to paint, watch me.” The four or five square feet of finished painting were a monument of my father’s art. There had been a time when I had scant respect for it. Lately I had come to see that it was more than a mere matter of dexterity and resolution. He had a historic position for he completed a period of English painting that through other circumstances had never, until him, come to maturity. Phrases, as though for an obituary article, came to

Paul Cezanne Card Players painting

Paul Cezanne Card Players paintingPaul Cezanne Bread and Eggs paintingLaurie Maitland Symphony in Red and Khaki I painting
very well. I am going to hunt again before I go back to school. Love from Gervase.”
“Dear Uncle Ted,” wrote Tom, “Thank you ever so much for the lovely present. It is just what I wanted. Again thanking you very much. With love from Tom.”
“So that’s all the thanks I get. Ungrateful little beggar,” said Uncle Ted, resolving to be more economical in future.
But when Gervase went back to school, he said, “You can have the motor-car, Tom, to keep.”
“What, for my own?”
“Yes. It’s a kid’s toy, anyway.”
And by this act of generosity he increased Tom’s respect and love for him a hundredfold.
The War came and profoundly changed the lives of the two boys. It engendered none of the neuroses threatened by pacifists. Air raids remained among Tom’s happiest memories, when the school used to be awakened in the middle of the night and hustled downstairs to the basements where, wrapped in eiderdowns, they were regaled with cocoa and cake by the matron, who looked supremely ridiculous in a flannel nightgown. Once a Zeppelin

Gustav Klimt Mother and Child detail from The Three Ages of Woman painting

Gustav Klimt Mother and Child detail from The Three Ages of Woman paintingGuido Reni The Archangel Michael paintingFrancois Boucher The Rape of Europa painting
was not everybody’s nose; many prefer one with greater body; it was not a nose to appeal to painters, for it was far too small and quite without shape, a mere dab of putty without apparent bone structure; a nose which made it impossible for its wearer to be haughty or imposing or astute. It would not have done for a governess or a cellist or even for a post office clerk, but it suited Miss Blade’s book perfectly, for it was a nose that pierced the thin surface crust of the English heart to its warm and pulpy core; a nose to take the thoughts of English manhood back to its schooldays, to the doughy-faced urchins on whom it had squandered its first affection, to memories of changing room and chapel and battered straw boaters. Three Englishmen in five, it is true, grow snobbish about these things in later and prefer a nose that makes more show in public—but two in five is an average with which any girl of modest fortune may be reasonably content.
Hector kissed her reverently on the tip of this nose. As he did so, his senses

Jacques-Louis David Napoleon crossing the Alps painting

Jacques-Louis David Napoleon crossing the Alps paintingJoaquin Sorolla y Bastida Children on the Beach paintingThomas Gainsborough The Morning Walk painting
the news that a white man was approaching through the forest, alone and very sick. He closed the cartridge and loaded his gun with it, put those that were finished into his pocket and set out in the direction indicated.
The man was already clear of the bush when Mr. McMaster reached him, sitting on the ground, clearly in a very bad way. He was without hat or boots, and his clothes were so torn that it was only by the dampness of his body that they adhered to it; his feet were cut and grossly swollen, every exposed surface of skin was scarred by insect and bat bites; his eyes were wild with fever. He was talking to himself in delirium, but stopped when Mr. McMaster approached and addressed him in English.
“I’m tired,” the man said; then: “Can’t go any farther. My name is Henty and I’m tired. Anderson died. That was a long time ago. I expect you think I’m very odd.”
“I think you are ill, my friend.”
“Just tired. It must be several months since I had anything to eat.”

Claude Monet The Water Lily Pond painting

Claude Monet The Water Lily Pond paintingFrancisco de Goya Nude Maja paintingchilde hassam Wayside Inn Sudbury Massachusetts painting
Now he realized that these were not the clothes which prosperous young men usually wear.
“My dear friend,” he said, “forgive me for laughing. I didn’t realize..... Come and dine with me this evening at my flat, and we will talk about what is to be done.”
“And so,” concluded Boris, “I became the manager of ‘The Kremlin.’ If I had not gone to Larne that day it is about certain we should never have met!
“My friend said that I might have a part in his motor Business, but that he thought anyone who could spend his last 300 francs on one meal was ordained by God to keep a restaurant.
“So it has been. He financed me. I collected some of my old friends to work with us. Now, you see, I am comparatively a rich man.”
The last visitors had paid their bill and risen, rather unsteadily, to go. Boris rose, too, to bow them out. The daylight shone into the room as they lifted the curtain to go out.
Suddenly, in the new light, all the decorations looked bogus and tawdry; the

Salvador Dali clock melting clocks painting

Salvador Dali clock melting clocks paintingJean Beraud Pont des arts paintingJean Beraud Boulevard des capucines painting
He makes a wry face at its bitterness and stands for a minute uncertain. Then moved by some odd instinct he turns out the light and curls himself up under the coverlet. up outside the Town Hall. Ernest climbs into the first of them—a decrepit Ford—and starts the engine. Adam attempts to stop him. A policeman hurries up. There is a wrenching of gears and the car starts.
The policeman blows his whistlesaves everyone from further anxiety.
“DO YOU KNOW, I THINK I’M GOING TO BE SICK?”
And makes his way unmolested and with perfect dignity to the quad. The gramophone starts playing “Everybody loves my baby.” Fade out.

THE OXFORD CITY LIBERAL ASSOCIATION At the foot of a low banyan tree the savage lies very still. A large fly settles on his shoulder; two birds of prey perch on the branch above him, waiting. The tropical sun begins to set, and in the brief twilight animals begin

Wassily Kandinsky Improvisation painting

Wassily Kandinsky Improvisation paintingVincent van Gogh The Sower paintingVincent van Gogh The Night Cafe painting
At two (I could read a goat-crook's shadow in any season quite as accurately as Ira Hector a man's, and set Lady Creamhair's watch with perfect confidence) I rose refreshed from My full-friggèd Ladyship, re-cleansed my organ in the dip, and donned my wrap. Fetching the spare horn from the gear-chest I nipped its point to mouthpiece-size with a docking-tool and fed for it a stout sling of binder-twine. Then to all the herd, save two, I bade farewell, pledging to return one day and to send a better keeper to them in the meanwhile. Hedda and Tommy's Tommy's Tom were the exceptions: the latter because I meant to take him with me; the former because when I bent into her lousy pen I found her passed away. I closed her glassed eyes, touched my lips to those withered teats once prouder and more speckled than my dam's, and left her, trusting that even Grandfather's aide would not deny her a respectful grave. Triple-T we tethered behind the motorcycle; a handsome buckling he was now, dipped and groomed, with a proper lunch in him; he pranced and snorted and butted without fear the very fender! Anastasia (who

Claude Monet The Picnic painting

Claude Monet The Picnic paintingClaude Monet Sunset paintingClaude Monet La Japonaise painting
Chancellor his first allegiance was to the whose best interests he would pursue at whatever cost -- enlightenedly, he hoped, and in the final service of all the Free Campus, even all studentdom. But if circumstances forced the choice ("Which Founder forfend!") between repudiating me and breaching the vows of his office, he would consent even to my Shafting, as he had to Max's. That Remusian vice-administrator of the Moishian quads in terms gone by, who had winked at Enos Enoch's lynching, was to Rexford's mind a tragic figure, unjustly maligned by simplistic Enochists unaware of the responsibilities of power.
"You'd Shaft me if you had to, sir? For teaching administrative subversion, say, ifI had to?"
He gave me a level look. "It might flunk me forever. But I'd do it."
The professor-generals clapped one another on the back; the military escort cheered. For just a moment Rexford surveyed them with an expression of distaste, even loathing; then he flashed the famous grin, mischievously winked at Anastasia while embracing Mrs. Rexford, and sped away.
"Is he a Candidate or not?" Anastasia asked me.

John William Waterhouse John William Waterhouse waterhouse Ophelia painting

John William Waterhouse John William Waterhouse waterhouse Ophelia paintingJohn William Waterhouse Hylas and the Nymphs paintingJohn William Waterhouse John William Waterhouse Waterhouse Ophelia painting
while I endeavored to assess my position -- what the net import was of the day's events, and what I ought to do next -- he took the man's microphone and called for attention.
"Now hear this, ladies and gentlemen! Now hear this, Tutees and classmates! George Giles the Goat-Boy, by his own admission and intent, has Failed All!" An angry cry came from the crowd, but as they moved to seize me Bray bade them stay and drew me to his side, asking cordially behind his hand to borrow my stick for a brief but necessary ritual. I understood: as I had formerly declared myself passed and he me failed, now that I owned myself flunked he would pass and Certify me to the student body, even dub me Grand Tutor with a rap on the scapula -- his Assignment on this campus (as he'd told me in March, when things had gone badly) and the explanation of his survival! To be sure, not all was clear; indeed I was assailed by doubts and questions; but my troubled heart surged like the torched crowd. Granted, it was for me and no one else to decide my condition, nature, and policy, when circumstances should permit reflection; yet whether in failing I had passed or in thus passing failed, official public Certification would do no violence to the paradox and might

Orpheus and Eurydice

Orpheus and EurydiceThe Deer ParkThe Great Masturbator
reason it was written in the Founder's Scroll:A proph-prof is never cum laudein his own quad. That this was so was the failing of studentdom; yet there was no help for it; it was the nature of the student condition that one was obliged to honor one's Tutors as true or condemn them as false, and yet such a judgment could not be made truly except by a true Grand Tutor. Had he said that studentdom necessarily judged wrong? The truth was, they might honor the true and condemn the false as easily as the reverse, but in either case they judged ignorantly. Yet did he say "as easily"? Nay, not as easily, for the false more often pleased than the true; wherefore it followed that the true Grand Tutor was almost invariably condemned as false, and the false celebrated as true -- but not always.
"Assemble at the Belly-exit," he exhorted them. "In a little while I will pass judgment on George Giles, and he on me, and WESCAC on us both. And for all mere studentdom can know, one of us may judge falsely, or mistakenly; or both of us may; or neither. For a false Grand Tutor is no wiser than his Tutees, and may in his ignorance sincerely

Carl Fredrik Aagard paintings

Carl Fredrik Aagard paintings
Caravaggio paintings
Claude Lorrain paintings
said: "Listen, Goat-Boy: A man sacrifices his only son -- the only thing he loves -- exactly tokeep from being selfish. That man is no father." He snapped something in Nikolayan, and the party moved gatewards.
"Self-discipline is selfish, too!" I called after. "You can't escape yourself, Dr. Chementinski! You couldn't even if you could!"
"Did he say Chementinski?" one reporter asked another, and then asked me directly, while his colleague hurried after Classmate X. I confirmed that the Nikolayan representative to the U.C. and the famous defector Chementinski were the same man, and explained briefly how I knew, insisting that Max was wholly innocent of the plot and that Leonid, while guilty of intent to kidnap, had altogether repudiated that intention, as witness his remaining in a cell which he could easily walk out of if he chose to. Everyone pressed after Classmate X then, despite his refusal to comment or uncover his face. Even some of his colleagues, it seemed to me, scowled now as questioningly at him and each other

Rudolf Ernst paintings

Rudolf Ernst paintings
Robert Campin paintings
Rembrandt paintings
authorization, not even repairmen, and since the Chancellor seemed not to care any more about lists or anything else, one could only suppose that Dr. Eierkopf had starved to death and rotted many months ago -- if he'd not been killed when Croaker went berserk. "Serves the Bonifacist right, either way," he concluded.
Alarmed, I sprang liftwards, though there was no hope of saving one so long abandoned. The guard drew his pistol, threatened to shoot if I touched a button, and repeated, for the benefit of startled bystanders, that nobody could use the Belfry-lift.. Perspiring, I bethought me of the trick old Laertides had played upon the one-eyed shepherd. I handed him my ID-card, and, hoping he'd miss the one not-quite-eradicated name, I said,"I'm Nobody," and pushed theBelfry -button. The doors began to close.
"Oh no you don't!" the guard cried, and would have leaped me, but his classmates-in-arms restrained him on the grounds that while my authority to use the lift was

William Bouguereau paintings

William Bouguereau paintings
Yvonne Jeanette Karlsen paintings
Avtandil paintings
keep it secret; it's like you were found in a rare-book vault, you know, that nobody but an old grand chancellor and his viziers had got the keys to."
A dismaying thing occurred to me. "Then Billy Bocksfuss might not even be my right name!"
Max patted my leg -- which owing to the hard oak tabletop had gone numb to pain and love-pats alike. "It was the right name for you when I got you, boy, but it's not yourreal one, the way you mean. You were an orphan of the storm, like me, that the student race made their goats. Your poor leg and foot were bunged up so by the tape-cans I didn't think you'd ever walk, even if nobody stole you away or killed you in the play-pound. And when I saw what a fine little buck you were growing to be on Mary Appenzeller's milk, I said, 'Well Mary, that's some billy we got ourselves,nein ?And it shouldn't surprise me he'll sprout two horns to go with that hoof of his. . .' "
Now he grasped hard my senseless limb."Ach, Billy, I tell you, I loved you so fr

Vincent van Gogh Cafe Terrace at Night painting

Vincent van Gogh Cafe Terrace at Night paintingVincent van Gogh Wheatfield with Crows paintingVincent van Gogh Roses painting
others to failure by no longer exemplifying and tempting them to it (thereby himself to fail, I suspected, and thus, by his inverted logic, to pass -- the same end he'd originally pursued, only essayed now by transvaluated means); and he supposed he had succeeded. Shaven and suited, he'd gone to the Light House in order at once to embrace and to deny kinship with Lucius Rexford, whom he met returning from the aborted Summit Symposium. The two had made polite, if distracted, conversation, even toasted each other's in Dry Sack; but though the Chancellor was astonished to see him there and gratified to hear that the claim of their fraternity would need be denied no more, Stoker had distinctly felt that for the first time Lucky Rexford disliked him in addition to repudiating him. To be sure, the Chancellor was distraught by the events at the University Council, by Mrs. Rexford's chilly announcement that she'd be dining out that evening, and (what Stoker hadn't been aware of) not least by my several counsels to him, which though he'd scoffed at them he couldn't forget. Nevertheless Stoker felt so clearly the distaste that took the place of Rexford's

Gustav Klimt The Kiss (Le Baiser _ Il Baccio) painting

Gustav Klimt The Kiss (Le Baiser _ Il Baccio) paintingGustav Klimt Sea Serpents paintingVincent van Gogh Self Portrait painting
away" at birth (of one thing Anastasia was certain: it could never have been our mother's wish), that circumstance went far, she thought, to explain Virginia Hector's subsequent lapses of reason, and even her rejection of Anastasia -- by what mechanism of psychology I did not grasp. But why had "Uncle Ira" and "Grandpa Reg" never mentioned a brother? And if, as it now appeared, neither Dr. Spielman nor Dr. Eierkopf was our father, who oncampus did I suppose was? And whatever could have happened to spirit me away?
"Let's hurry, George! Aren't you thrilled topieces? Oh,darn. . ." She snapped her fingers. "I really must call Maurice. Only take a sec."
She hurried off to telephone the Powerhouse from the receptionist's desk, and I availed myself of the respite to herd my scattered thoughts and address them to the work at hand -- more important by far, to my mind, than the details of my genealogy. Mother or no mother, sister or no sister, I had Finals to pass, an impostor to rout, and studentdom to tutor from its error.Re-place the Founder's Scroll. With humble pride, not unmixed with awe, I remarked how clearly each new task, so far from exhausting me, left me stronger for the