Andy Warhol Page from Lips Book

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You know you said what could a boy find to do that was better than being a wizard?’ he said.
‘A true wizard should only be interested in one thing,’ muttered the Dean. ‘You know that.’
‘Oh, I know it.’
‘I was referring to magic.’
The Chair peered at the advancing figures.
‘You know, that is young Victor. I’ll swear it,’ he said.
‘That’s or ankles that stood in its way.
Poons’ mouth fell open.
Ginger gripped Victor’s hand.
‘There’s a group of fat old men in false beards waving at you over there,’ she said through clenched and grinning teeth.
‘Yes, I think they’re wizards,’ Victor grinned back.disgusting,’ said the Dean. ‘Fancy choosing to hang around young women when he could have been a wizard.’‘Yeah. What a fool,’ said the Lecturer in Recent Runes, who was having trouble with his breathing.There was a sort of communal sigh.‘You got to admit she’s a bit of a corker, though,’ said the Chair.‘I’m an old man and if someone doesn’t let me see very soon,’ said a cracked voice behind them, ‘someone’s going to be feeling the wrong end of, mm, my stick, all right?’Two of the wizards edged aside and eased the wheelchair through. Once moving, it coasted right up to the edge of the carpet, bruising any knees

John William Waterhouse Nymphs Finding the Head of Orpheus

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Gaspode considered barking loudly, and then if anyone drew attention to this afterwards he could always say it was to frighten her. Trouble was, he had about enough wind left for a threatening wheeze.
Ginger topped a rise and went down into the little dell among the trees.
Gaspode -supple frame and withdrew from his teeth. Plates appeared in front of him not laden with the multi-coloured and mysterious organs that he was normally expected to eat but with dark red steak. There was sweet water, no, there was beer in a bowl with his name on it. Tantalizing odours on the air suggested that a number of lady dogs would be happy to make his acquaintance after he had drunk and dined. Thousands of people thought staggered after her, righted himself, opened his mouth to whimper a warning, and almost swallowed his tongue. The door had opened several inches. More sand rolled down the heap even as Gaspode watched. And he could hear voices. They didn’t seem to be speaking words but the bones of words, meaning without disguise. They hummed around his bullet head like mendicant mosquitoes, begging and cajoling and -he was the most famous dog in the world. The knots unravelled from his coat, the frayed patches sprouted glossy curls, his fur grew on his suddenly

Joaquin Sorolla y Bastida The Two Sisters

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, good,’ said Victor weakly.
‘You play this bandit chieftain,’ said Dibbler, ‘only a nice guy, too, kind to women and so forth, and you raid this village and you carry off this slave girl only when you look into her eyes, see, you fall for her, and then there’s this raid and hundreds of men on elephants come charging-’
‘Camels,’only one camel in Holy Wood and that’s only ‘cos a guy from Klatch rode all the way here on it,’ said the youth.
‘You should have sent away for more!’ snapped Dibbler.
‘Mr Silverfish said I wasn’t to.’
Dibbler growled. said a skinny youth behind Dibbler. ‘It’s camels.’ ‘I ordered elephants!’ ‘You got camels.’ ‘Camels, elephants,’ said Dibbler dismissively. ‘We’re talking exotic here, OK? And-’ ‘And we’ve only got one,’ said the youth. ‘One what?’ ‘Camel. We could only find one camel,’ said the youth. ‘But I’ve got dozens of guys with bedsheets on their heads waiting for camels!’ shouted Dibbler, waving his hands in the air. ‘Lots of camels, right?’ ‘We only got one camel ‘cos there’s

Vincent van Gogh Souvenir de Mauve

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glittering, swirling idea from the hill had watched all this. The alchemist didn’t even know it was there. All he knew was that he was being unusually inventive today.
Now it had a particularly difficult fly.
He glanced out of the stained-glass window. A smoke cloud was rising over uptown Morpork.
‘Bursaar!’
The Bursar arrived within a few seconds, out of breath. Loud noises always upset him.
‘It’s the alchemists, Master,’ he panted. spotted the pie merchant’s mind. It knew that kind of mind. It loved minds like that. A mind that could sell nightmare pies could sell dreams. It leaped. On a hill far away the breeze stirred the cold, grey ash. Further down the hill, in a crack in a hollow between two rocks where a dwarf juniper bush struggled for a Ping, a little trickle of sand began to move. Boom. A fine film of plaster dust drifted down on to the desk of Mustrum Ridcully, the new Archchancellor of Unseen University; just as he was trying to tie

Leonardo da Vinci Female Head

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pyramid was somehow even bigger than before. If you had to design something to give the very distinct impression of mass, the pyramid was It. There was a crowd of figures around it, unidentifiable in the grey light.
Teppic 'We're talking about not-alive people here, are we?'
'Yes, O king.'
'Oh. Well, thank you. That was very succinct. Not informative, but succinct. Are there any boats around?'
'The priests took them all, O king.'
Teppic could see that this was true. The jetties near the palace were usually thronged with boats, and now they were all empty. As he stared at the water it grew two looked around the prostrate crowd until he saw someone in the uniform of the palace guard. 'You, man, on your feet,' he commanded. The man gave him a look of dread, but did stagger sheepishly upright. 'What's going on here?' 'O king, who is the lord of-' 'I don't think we have time,' said Teppic. 'I know who I am, I want to know what's happening.' 'O king, we saw the dead walking! The priests have gone to talk to them.' 'The dead walking?' 'Yes, O king.'

George Frederick Watts Charity

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hands and feet felt too cold. Foolish, foolish. He should have done this before.
The boat jerked slowly into midstream as full night rolled over the valley. On the far bank, in response to the ancient laws, the the last three thousand years,' said his father stiffly, 'and we haven't lost by it, have we? No, we haven't. Because the other kingdoms look to the Djel, they say there's a family that really knows its pyramids, connysewers, they say we'll have what they're having, if you please, with knobs on. Anyway, they're real royalty,' he added, 'not like some of the ones you get these days - here today, gone next millennium. They're half gods, too. You don't expect real royalty to pay its way. That's one opyramids started to light the sky. Lights also burned late in the house of Ptaclusp Associates, Necropolitan Builders to the Dynasties. The father and his twin Sons were hunched over the huge wax designing tray, arguing. 'It's not as if they ever pay,' said Ptaclusp IIa. 'I mean it's not just a case of not being able to, they don't seem to have grasped the idea. At least dynasties like Tsort pay up within a hundred years or so. Why didn't you-' 'We've built pyramids along the Djel for f the signs of real royalty, not having any money

Alexandre Cabanel Cleopatra Testing Poisons on Condemned Prisoners

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And tomorrow you can say I had no recollection. What a noise he made in falling! Enough to wake the dead . . . who would have thought he had so much blood in him? . . .' By now he had climbed on to the stage, and grinned brightly at the assembled company.
'I hope that sorts it all out,' he said. 'Ha. Ha.'
In the silence that followed Tomjon opened his mouth to utter something suitable, something soothing, and found that there was nothing he could say.
But another 'You were there! You saw it all!'
I SUSPECT I WOULD NOT BE CONSIDERED AN APPROPRIATE WITNESS.
'Therefore there is no proof, and where there is no proof there is no crime,' said the duchess. She motioned the soldiers forward.personality stepped into him, took over his lips, and spoke thusly:'With my own bloody dagger, you bastard! I know it was you! I saw you at the top of the stairs, sucking your thumb! I'd kill you now, except for the thought of having to spend eternity listening to your whining. I, Verence, formerly King of-''What testimony is this?' said the duchess. She stood in front of the stage, with half a dozen soldiers beside her.'These are just slanders,' she added. 'And treason to boot. The rantings of mad players.''I was bloody King of Lancre!' shouted Tomjon.'In which case you are the alleged victim,' said the duchess calmly. 'And unable to speak for the prosecution. It is against all precedent.'Tomjon's body turned towards Death.

Leroy Neiman The Brooklyn Bridge

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thus it was that Granny, her hat and iron-grey hair dripping with moisture, her boots shedding lumps of ice, heard the distant and muffled sound of a voice enthusiastically explaining to the invisible sky that the hedgehog had less to worry over than just about any other mammal. Like a hawk that has spotted something small and fluffy in the grass, like a wandering interstellar flu germ that has just seen a nice blue planet drifting by, A thousand feet and rising fast into the frosty air, the two witches were bickering again.
'It was a bloody stupid idea,' moaned Nanny. 'I never liked heights.'
'Did you bring something to drink?'
'Certainly. You said.'Granny turned the stick and plunged down through the choking billows.'Come on!' she screamed, drunk with speed and exhilaration, and the sound from five hundred feet overhead put a passing wolf severely off its supper. 'This minute, Gytha Ogg!'Nanny Ogg caught her hand with considerable reluctance and the pair of broomsticks swept up again and into the clear, starlit sky.The Disc, as always, gave the impression that the Creator has designed it specifically to be looked at from above. Streamers of cloud in white and silver stretched away to the rim, stirred into thousand-mile swirls by the turning of the world. Behind the speeding brooms the sullen roof of the fog was dragged up into a curling tunnel of white vapour, so that the watching gods – and they were certainly watching – could see the terrible flight as a furrow in the sky.

John William Waterhouse Miranda - The Tempest

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upon a time it had been black velvet; now it was just black. It was carefully and slowly fastened by a tarnished silver brooch.
No samurai, no questing knight, was ever dressed with as much ceremony.
Finally Granny drew herself up, surveyed her dark reflection in the glass, gave a thin little smile of approval, and left success. She didn't have much practice. She was beginning to wonder if she'd overdone the eyeshadow.
Her neck, fingers and arms between them carried enough silverware to make a full-sized dinner service, and over everything she had thrown a black cloak lined with red silk.via the back door.The air of menace was only slightly dispelled by the sound of her running up and down outside, trying to get her broomstick started. Magrat was also regarding herself in the mirror.She'd dug out a startlingly green dress that was designed to be both revealing and clinging, and would have been if Magrat had anything to display or cling to, so she'd shoved a couple of rolled-up stockings down the front in an effort to make good the more obvious deficiencies. She had also tried a spell on her hair, but it was naturally magic-resistant and already the natural shape was beginning to assert itself (a dandelion clock at about 2pm).Magrat had also tried makeup. This wasn't an unqualified

John William Waterhouse Ariadne

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Death didn't look back. Verence followed him through the wall; it was like walking through fog.
'Is that all?' he demanded. 'I mean, how long will I be a ghost? Why am I a ghost? You can't just leave me like this.' He halted and raised an imperious, slightly transparent finger. 'Stop! I command you!'
Death shook his head gloomily, and stepped through the next wall. The king hurried after him with as much dignity as he.
'How long will it really be?'
UNTIL YOU HAVE FULFILLED YOUR DESTINY, I ASSUME.
'And how will I know what my destiny is?' said the king, desperately.
CAN'T HELP THERE. I'M SORRY. could still muster, and found Death fiddling with the girths of a large white horse standing on the battlements. It was wearing a nosebag.'You can't leave me like this!' he repeated, in the face of the evidence.Death turned to him.I CAN, he said. YOU'RE UNDEAD, YOU SEE. GHOSTS INHABIT A WORLD BETWEEN THE LIVING AND THE DEAD. IT'S NOT MY RESPONSIBILITY. He patted the king on the shoulder. DON'T WORRY, he said, IT WON'T BE FOREVER.'Good.'IT MAY SEEM LIKE FOREVER
'Well, how can I find out?'

Andy Warhol Diamond Dust Shoes Lilac Blue Green

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frosty plains gave way to the broken lands around the mountains, and then the marching ranks of the Ramtops themselves racedetched in the faintest of lines.
Binky slowed to a canter. Mort looked down at the roof of a forest, dusted with snow that was either early or very, very late; it could have been either, because the Ramtops hoarded their weather and doled it out with no real reference to the time of year.
A gap opened up beneath them. Binky slowed again, wheeled around and descended towards a clearing that was white with drifted snow. It was circular, with a tiny cottage in the exact middle. If the across the world towards them. Binky put his head down and opened his stride, aiming for a pass between two mountains as sharp as goblins' teeth in the silver light. Somewhere a wolf howled.Mort took another look at the hourglass. Its frame was carved with oak leaves and mandrake roots, and the sand inside, even by moonlight, was pale gold. By turning the glass this way and that, he could just make out the name 'Ammeline Hamstring'

Thomas Kinkade Make a Wish Cottage 2

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sand inside, even by moonlight, was pale gold. By turning the glass this way and that, he could just make out the name 'Ammeline Hamstring' etched in the faintest of lines.
Binky slowed totrotted across the freezing crust without sinking. He left no hoofprints, of course.
Mort dismounted and walked towards the door, muttering to himself and making a canter. Mort looked down at the roof of a forest, dusted with snow that was either early or very, very late; it could have been either, because the Ramtops hoarded their weather and doled it out with no real reference to the time of year.A gap opened up beneath them. Binky slowed again, wheeled around and descended towards a clearing that was white with drifted snow. It was circular, with a tiny cottage in the exact middle. If the ground around it hadn't been covered in snow, Mort would have noticed that there were no tree stumps to be seen; the trees hadn't been cut down in the circle, they'd simply been discouraged from growing there. Or had moved away.Candlelight spilled from one downstairs window, making a pale orange pool on the snow.Binky touched down smoothly and

Pierre Auguste Renoir Girls at The Piano

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Death laid a hand on Mort's shoulder.
WHAT YOUR FATHER SEES AND HEARS IS NOT WHAT YOU SEE AND HEAR, he said. DO NOT WORRY HIM. DO YOU and fascinating and not entirely horrible, and that if he let this moment go he'd spend the rest of his it. And he remembered the humiliations of the day, and the long walk 'Er,' he began, 'I don't have to die to get the job, do I?'
BEING DEAD IS NOT COMPULSORY.
'And . . . the bones . . .?'THINK HE WOULD WANT TO SEE ME – IN THE FLESH, AS IT WERE?'But you're Death,' said Mort. 'You go around killing people!'I? KILL? said Death, obviously offended. CERTAINLY NOT. PEOPLE GET KILLED, BUT THAT'S THEIR TAKE OVER FROM THEN ON. AFTER ALL, IT'D BE A BLOODY STUPID WORLD IF PEOPLE GOT KILLED WITHOUT DYING, WOULDN'T IT?'Well, yes —' said Mort, doubtfully.Mort had never heard the word 'intrigued'. It was not in regular use in the family vocabulary. But a spark in his soul told him that here was something weird

Paul Gauguin Where Do We Come From

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After a while a stick of chalk rose from the lectern and started to write on the blackboard behind him. Esk had picked up of the possibility matrix" she couldn't guess at all.
Sometimes he seemed to be saying that nothing existed unless people thought it did, and the world was really only there at all because people kept on imagining it. But then he seemed to be saying that there was lots of worlds, all nearly the same and all sort of occupying the same place but all separated by the thickness of a shadow, so that everything that ever could happen would have somewhere enough about wizard magic to know that this was an astounding achievement- Simon had been at the University for a couple of weeks, and most students hadn't mastered Light Levitation by the end of their second year. The little white stub skittered and squeaked across the blackness to the accompaniment of Simon's voice. Even allowing for the stutter, he was not a very good speaker. He dropped notes. He corrected himself. He ummed and ahhed. And as far as Esk was concerned he wasn't saying anything very much. Phrases filtered down to her hiding place. "Basic fabric of the universe" was one, and she didn't understand what that was, unless he meant denim, or maybe flannelette. "Mutability

Pierre Auguste Renoir Dance in the City

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main gate at Unseen University and no woman has ever passed through it."
"Tell me," said Esk, "what good is high magic, exactly?"
Treatle smiled at her.
"High magic, my child," he said, "can give us everything we want."
"Oh."is for."
"I see."
The whole caravan was travelling only a little faster than walking pace. Esk jumped down, pulled the staff from its temporary hiding place among the bags and pails on the side of the wagon, and ran back along the line of carts and animals. Through her tears she caught a glimpse of Simon peering from the back of the wagon, an open book in his hands. He gave her a puzzled smile and started to say something, but she ran on and veered off the track. "So put all this wizard nonsense out of your head, all right?" Treatle gave her a benevolent smile. "What is your name, child?" "Eskarina." "And why do you go to Ankh, my dear?" "I thought I might seek my fortune," muttered Esk, "but I think perhaps girls don't have fortunes to seek. Are you sure wizards give people what they want?" "Of course. That is what high magic

Salvador Dali Melting Watch

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Granny Weatherwax, learning witch craft.
It seemed to consist mainly of things to remember.
The lessons were quite practical. There was cleaning the kitchen table and Basic Herbalism. There was mucking out the goats and The Uses of Fungi. There was doing the washing and The Summoning of the Small Gods. And there , and said: "The flowering tops of Greater Peahane, the root pith of Old Man's Trousers, the stems of the Bloodwater Lily, the seedcases of -"
"All right. Where may water gherkins be found?"
"Peat bogs and stagnant pools, from the months of -"was always tending the big copper still in the scullery and The Theory and Practice of Distillation. By the time the warm Rim winds were blowing, and the snow remained only as little streaks of slush on the Hub side of trees, Esk knew how to prepare a range of ointments, several medicinal brandies, a score of special infusions, and a number of mysterious potions that Granny said she might learn the use of in good time. What she hadn't done was any magic at all. "All in good time," repeated Granny vaguely. "But I'm supposed to be a witch!" "You're not a witch yet. Name me three herbs good for the bowels." Esk put her hands behind her back, closed her eyes

Vincent van Gogh The good Samaritan Delacroix

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And so it was that Rincewind, Twoflower and Bethan entered Unseen University.
Elsewhere on the campus—
The eight wizards inserted their keys and, with many a worried glance at one another, turned them. There was a faint little snicking sound as the lock slid open.
The Octavo was unchained. A faint octarine light played across its bindings.
Trymon reached out and picked it up, and none of the others objected. His arm tingled.
He turned towards the door.
'Now to the enraged screams of the wizards who had just discovered how impossible it is to pass spells in a room built to be impervious to magic.
The Octavo squirmed, but Trymon held it tightly. Now he ran, putting out of his mind the horrible sensations under his arm as the book shape-changed into things hairy, skeletal and spiky. His hand Great Hall, brothers,' he said, 'if I may lead the way —'And there were no objections.He reached the door with the book tucked under his rm. It felt hot, and somehow prickly.At every step he expected a cry, a protest, and none came. He had to use every ounce of control to stop himself from laughing. It was easier than he could have imagined.The others were halfway across the claustrophobic dungeon by the time he was through the door, and perhaps they had noticed something in the set of his shoulders, but it was too late because he had crossed the threshold, gripped the handle, slammed the door, turned the key, smiled the smile.He walked easily back along the corridor, ignoring the numb. The faint chittering noises he had been hearing grew in volume, and there were other

William Blake the Body of Abel Found by Adam and Eve

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added. 'Besides, I'd have no-one to talk to.'
'Who's this?' said Twoflower.
'She sort of lives here,' mumbled Rincewind. 'She's a sort of girl,' he added.
He grabbed Twoflower's shoulder and tried to shuffle imperceptibly towards the door into the dark, cold It didn't work, largely because Twoflower wasn't the sort of person who went in for nuances of expression and somehow never assumed that anything bad might apply to him.
'Charmed, I'm sure,' he said. Very nice place, you have here. Interesting baroque effect with the bones and skulls.'
Ysabell smiled. Rincewind thought: if Death ever does hand over the be better at it than he is – she's.
And the wizard, with great deliberation and a certain amount of satisfaction, hit him smartly on the bonkers.'Yes, but we must be going,' he said.'I really won't hear of it,' she said. You must stay and tell me all about yourselves. There's plenty of time and it's so boring here.'She darted sideways and swung the scythe at the shining threads. It screamed through the air like a neutered tomcat – and stopped sharply.There was the creak of wood. The Luggage had snapped its lid shut on the blade.Twoflower looked up at Rincewind in astonishment chin. As the little man fell backwards Rincewind caught him, threw him over a shoulder and ran.
Branches whipped at him in the starlit small, furry and probably horrible things scampered away as he pounded desperately along the faint that shone eerily on the freezing grass

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?' said Rincewind, gloomily.
'Come on in,' said the gnome, 'but mind the doormat.
'Why?'
1,237.98712567 times the difference between the distance to the sun and the weight of a small orange. He learned that sixty years had been devoted entirely to its construction.
It all seemed, he thought, to be rather a lot of trouble to go to just to sharpen a razor blade.
And in the Forest of Skund Twoflower and Rincewind settled down to a meal of gingerbread mantlepiece and thought longingly of pickled onions.'Candyfloss.' The great Disc spun slowly under its toiling sun, and daylight pooled in hollows and finally drained away as night fell.In his chilly room in Unseen University Trymon pored over the book, his lips moving as his finger traced the unfamiliar, ancient script. He read that the Great Pyramid of Tsort, now long vanished, was made of one million, three thousand and ten limestone blocks. He read that ten thousand slaves had been worked to death in its building. He learned that it was a maze of secret passages, their walls reputedly decorated with the distilled wisdom of ancient Tsort. He read that its height plus its length divided by half its width equalled exactly 1.67563, or precisely

Jean Beraud Le Bal Mabile

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force of a tsunami.
"I don't think you understand," explained Twoflower. "I am a citizen of the Golden Empire. I'm sure Krull would not wish to incur the displeasure of the Emperor."
"How will the . The rocking chair flicked back against the wall and one blue arm caught the wizard around the waist. A moment later the troll was striding out of the shack with Rincewind gripped carelessly in one fist.
He did not stop until he came to the Rimward edge of the island. Rincewind squealed.
"Stop that or I really will throw you over emperor know?" asked the troll."Do you think you're the first person from the Empire who has ended up on the Circumfence?""I won't be a slave," shouted Rincewind. "I'd - I'd jump over the Edge first!" He was amazed at the sound in his own voice."Would you, though?" asked the troll