Pablo Picasso Studio with Plaster Head

Pablo Picasso Studio with Plaster HeadPablo Picasso Les Demoiselles dAvignonPablo Picasso Le Moulin de la Galette
hit the floor at the same time as a pock coincided with a hole punched through the wall on one side of the window. Plaster dust puffed into the air.
His crossbow was upper windows, now long rusted shut.
He balanced his helmet on the end, wedged himself into the corner, and with a certain amount of effort moved the pole so that the helmet just showed over the window si . . .
Pock.
Splinters flew up from a point on the floor where it would undoubtedly have severely inconvenienced anyone lying on the boards cautiously raising a decoy helmet on a stick.leaning against the wall. He wasn't an expert but, hells, who was? You pointed it and you fired it. He pulled it towards him, rolled on his back, stuck his foot in the stirrup and hauled on the string until it clicked into place.Then he rolled back on to one knee and slotted a quarrel into the groove.A catapult, that's what it was. It had to be. Troll-sized, perhaps. Someone up on the roof of the opera house or somewhere high . . .Draw their fire, draw their fire . . . he picked up his helmet and balanced it on the end of another quarrel. The thing to do was crouch below the window and . . .He thought for a moment. Then he shuffled across the floor to the corner, where there was a pole with a hook on the end. Once upon a time it had been used to open the

Edward Hopper City Sunlight

Edward Hopper City SunlightEdward Hopper Chair CarEdward Hopper A Woman in the Sun
, sir?'
'Who said that?'
'Down here, sir. Lance-Constable Cuddy.'
'Oh, yes. Yes?'
'I know a bit 'Why, captain?' said Corporal Carrot.
'Because that bastard Cruces doesn't want me to know.'
'I know what could have blown the hole open,' said Angua.
'What?'
'An exploding dragon.'
They walked in stunned silence.
'That could do it, sir,' said Carrot loyally. 'The little devils go bang at the drop of a helmet.'
'Dragon,' muttered Vimes. 'What makes you think it was a dragon, Lance-Constable about fireworks, sir. There's a smell you get after fireworks. Didn't smell it, sir. Smelled something else.''Well . . . smelled, Cuddy.''And there were bits of burned rope and pulleys.''I smelled dragon,' said Vimes.'Sure, captain?''Trust me.' Vimes grimaced. If you spent any time in Lady Ramkin's company, you soon found out what dragons smelled like. If something put its head in your lap while you were dining, you said nothing, you just kept passing it titbits and hoped like hell it didn't hiccup.'There was a glass case in that room,' he said. 'It was smashed open. Hah! Something was stolen. There was a bit of card in the dust, but someone must have pinched it while old Cruces was talking to me. I'd give a hundred dollars to know what it said.'

Raphael The Sistine Madonna

Raphael The Sistine MadonnaWilliam Bouguereau BiblisWilliam Bouguereau Nymphs and Satyr.
the cemetery the solitary gravedigger filled in the hole that was the last resting place of d'Eath senior.
He became aware of what seemed to be thoughts in his head. They went something like this:
Any chance of a bone? No, no, sorry, bad taste there, forget I mentioned it. You've got beef sandwiches in your wossname, lunchboxwhen he found it. Edward was a great believer in Destiny. Such people often are.
The Guild library was one of the largest in the city. In certain specialized areas it was the largest. These areas mainly had to do with the regrettable brevity of human life and the means of bringing it about.
Edward spent a lot of time there, often at the top of a ladder, often surrounded by dust.
He read every known work on armaments. He didn't know what he was looking for and he found it in a note in the margin of an otherwise very dull and inaccurate treatise on the ballistics of crossbows. He copied it out, carefully. thingy, though. Why not give one to the nice little doggy over there?The man leaned on his shovel and looked around.The grey mongrel was watching him intently.It said, 'Woof?' It took Edward d'Eath five months to find what he was looking for. The search was hampered by the fact that he did not know what he was looking for, only that he'd know it

Thomas Kinkade Seaside Village

Thomas Kinkade Seaside VillageThomas Kinkade Bridge of HopeEdward Hopper SummertimeEdward Hopper Night Windows
Casanunda put his head on one side. You don’t move around among a different species for most of your life with-out learning to read a lot of their body language, especially since it’s in such large print.
“You won’t entirely be sorry, eh?” he said.
“Me? I don’t as a wink, her.”
More doubts were entering Magrat’s life. They concerned crossbows, for one thing. A crossbow is a very useful and usable weapon designed for speed and convenience and deadliness in the hands of the inexperienced, like a faster version of an out-of-code TV dinner. But it is designed to be used once, by someone who has somewhere safe to duck while they reload. Otherwise it is just so much metal and wood with a piece of string on it.want ‘em back! They’re untrustworthy and cruel and arrogant parasites and we don’t need ‘em one bit.”“Bet you half a dollar?”Nanny was suddenly flustered.“Don’t you look at me like that! Esme’s right. Of course she’s right. We don’t want elves anymore. Stands to reason.”“Esme’s the short one, is she?”“Hah, no, Esme’s the tall one with the nose. You know her.”“Right, yes.”“The short one is Magrat. She’s a kind-hearted soul and a bit soft. Wears flowers in her hair and believes in songs, I reckon she’d be off dancing with the elves quick

Leroy Neiman Hand Off Superbowl III

Leroy Neiman Hand Off Superbowl IIIJean-Honore Fragonard the readerJean-Honore Fragonard the lock
the side of the waiting elfs neck. It reeled away Magrat bolted for the nearest doorway, weeping in panic, and wrenched at the handle. It swung open. She darted through, slammed the door, flailed in the dark for the bars, felt them clonk home, and collapsed on to her knees.
Something hit the door outside.
After a while Magrat opened her eyes, and then won-
dered if she really had that got used recently. Most people in Lancre still used tinderboxes. Only the king could afford matches all the way from Ankh-Morpork. Granny Weatherwax and Nanny Ogg got them too, but they didn’t buy them. They got given them. It was easy to get given things, if you were a witch.
Magrat lit the stub of candle, and turned to see what kind of room she’d scuttled into.opened her eyes, because the dark-ness was no less dark. There was a feeling of space in frontl “He’s just an old soppy really”—from the Nanny Ogg Book of Cat Sayings. 216LORQ6 ft/VQ iftOf£Sof her. There were all sorts of things in the castle, old hidden rooms, anything . . . there could be a pit there, there could be anything. She fumbled for the doorframe, guided herself upright, and then groped cautiously in the general direction of the wall.There was a shelf. This was a candle. And this was a bundle of matches.So, she insisted above her own heartbeat, this was a room

Franz Marc The Monkey

Franz Marc The MonkeyFranz Marc RinderFranz Marc Rehe im Schnee
He’s got out of the river,” said Ponder. But the troll wasn’t moving very fast, because the Librarian was noncha-lantly levering one of the big stones out of the parapet.
“On this very bridge I asked—“
“That’s a big club he’s got,” said Casanunda.
“This bridge, I may say, was where I nearly—“
“Could you stop holding that rock in such a provocative way?” said Ponder.
“Oook.”
“It’d be a help.”
“The actual bridge, if anyone’s interested, is where my
whole life took a diff—“
“Why don’t we “Well, you know what they say. You can’t cross the same river twice, Archchancellor,” he said.
Ridcully stared at him.
“Why not? This is a bridge.”
On the roof of the coach the Librarian picked up the coacjust go on?” said Ponder. “He’s got a steep climb.”“Good thing for him he hasn’t got up here, eh?” said Casanunda. Ponder swiveled the Librarian around and pushed him toward the coach.“This is the bridge, in fact, where—“Ridcully turned around.“Are you coming or not?” said Casanunda, with the reins in his hand.“I was actually having a quality moment of misty nostalgicTerry Pratchettremembrance,” said Ridcully. “Not that any of you buggers noticed, of course.”Ponder held the door open.h-hom, bit the end of it reflectively—well, you never knew—and then blew it so hard that it uncurled.

Salvador Dali Figure at a Window I

Salvador Dali Figure at a Window ISalvador Dali Corpus HypercubusVincent van Gogh View of Arles with Irises I
darted through the few inches of space
64
LORDS htib l.ft0f£6
between their stares it would have flashed into flame in the
air.
“I learned my craft“Look,” said Nanny Ogg hurriedly, nudging the trem-bling Perdita, “right through the lining and everything. Two dollars and curing his pig that hat cost me. That’s two dol-lars and a pig cure I shan’t see again in a hurry.”
“So you can just go away, old woman,” said Diamanda.
“But we ought to meet again,” said Granny Weatherwax.
The old witch and the young witch weighed one another up.
“Midnight?” said Diamanda. from Nanny^Gripes,” said GrannyWeatherwax, “who learned it from Goody Heggety, who got itfrom Nanna Plumb, who was taught it by Black Aliss, who—““So what you’re saying is,” said Diamanda, loading the words into the sentence like cartridges in a chamber, “that no one has actually learned anything new?”The silence that followed was broken by Nanny Ogg say-ing: “Bugger, I’ve bitten right through the brim. Right through.”“I see, said Granny Weatherwax.

Mark Spain The Pink Dress

Mark Spain The Pink DressMark Spain SevillaMark Spain Reflection
out of Copperhead Mountain, and flattened the forest for ten miles around?
Probably at the first pawn.
Gods like a jokegot free by struggling out of their chain-mail trousers.
Many worlds are iron, at the core. But the Discworld is as coreless as a pancake.
On the Disc, if you enchant a needle it will point to the Hub, where the magical field is strongest. It’s simple.
Elsewhere, on worlds designed with less imagination, the needle turns because of the love of iron.
At the time, the dwarfs and the humans had a very pressing need for the love of iron.
And now, spool time forward for thousands of years to a point fifty years or more before the ever-moving now, to a hillside and a young woman, running. Not running away from something, exactly, or precisely running toward any-thing, but running just fast enough to keep ahead of a young man although, of course, not so far ahead that as much as anyone else. 1.The dwarfs dug them up, because they were made of a kind of iron, and dwarfs, contrary to general opinion, love iron more than gold. It’s just that although there’s more iron than gold it’s harder to sing songs about. Dwarfs love iron.And that’s what the stones contained. The love of iron. A love so strong that it drew all iron things to itself. The three dwarfs who found the first of the rocks only

Edgar Degas Ballerina and Lady with a Fan

Edgar Degas Ballerina and Lady with a FanEdgar Degas At the MillinersFrida Kahlo Without Hope
fall. From the rocks. In the desert. You were with the Prophet," said Nhumrod. "You walked with the Prophet. One of my novices."it," said Nhumrod. "I was privileged to be in the Place of Lamentation when he arrived. It was just after the Sestine prayers. The Cenobiarch was just departing . . . well, you know the ceremony. And there was Vorbis. Covered in dust and leading a donkey. I'm afraid you were across the back of the donkey."
"I don't remember a donkey," said Brutha.
"-donkey. He'd picked it up at one of the farms. There was quite a crowd with him!"
Nhumrod was flushed with excitement."I remember . . . the desert . . ." said Brutha, touching his head gingerly. "But . . . the . . . Prophet . . . ?""-Prophet. People are saying you could be made a bishop, or even an Iam," said Nhumrod. "There's a precedent, you know. The Most Holy St. Bobby was made a bishop because he was in the desert with the Prophet Ossory, and he was a donkey.""But I don't . . . remember . . . any Prophet. There was just me and-”Brutha stopped. Nhumrod was beaming."Vorbis?""He most graciously told me all about

Joaquin Sorolla y Bastida The Two Sisters

Joaquin Sorolla y Bastida The Two SistersJoaquin Sorolla y Bastida MariaAlexandre Cabanel OpheliaAlexandre Cabanel Cleopatra
You lazy bugger!"
The younger one sat up.
"Honest, Uncle-”
"I turn my back for half an hour and you go to sleep on the job!"
"What job? We haven't had anything since Mr. Piloxi the farmer last week-”
"How d'you know? How d'you know? While you were snoring dozens of people could've been goin' past, every one of 'em in need of a pers'nal philosophy!"
"-and he only paid in olives."
"I shall prob'ly get a good price for them olives!"
"They're rotten, Uncle."
"Nonsense! You said they were green!"
"Yes, but they're supposed to be black."
In the shadows, the tortoise's head turned back and forth like a spectator's at a tennis match.
The young man stood up.
"Mrs. "Shifted that one, eh?"
"She said she'd give it a try. She gave me a whole dried squid for it. She said I looked like I needed feeding up."
"Right? You're learning. That's lunch sorted out at any rate. See, Urn? Told you it would work if we stuck at it."
"I don't call one dried squid and a box of greasy olives much of a return, master. Not for two weeks' thinking."
"We got three obols for doing that proverb for old Grillos the cobblerBylaxis came in this morning," he said. "She said the proverb you did for her last week has stopped working."Didactylos scratched his head."Which one was that?" he said."You gave her `It's always darkest before dawn.' ""Nothing wrong with that. Damn good philosophy.""She said she didn't feel any better. Anyway, she said she'd stayed up all night because of her bad leg and it was actually quite light just before dawn, so it wasn't true. And her leg still dropped off. So I gave her part exchange on `Still, it does you good to laugh.' "Didactylos brightened up a bit.

Jean Francois Millet Man with a hoe

Jean Francois Millet Man with a hoeLorenzo Lotto Venus and CupidJean Fragonard The Bathers
weren't many superior members of the hierarchy he could recognize. Even the Cenobiarch was a distant blob in the crowd. But everyone recognized Vorbis the exquisitor. Something about him projected itself on your conscience within a few days of your arrival at the Citadel. The God was merely to be feared in the perfunctory ways of habit, but , and put the reptile down, on its back. After a moment's thought he took a couple of pebbles from one of the vegetable beds and wedged them under the shell so that the creature's movement wouldn't tip it over.
Vorbis believed that no opportunity to acquire esoteric knowledge should ever be lost, and made a mental note to come back again in a few hours to see how it was getting on, if work permitted.
Then he turned his attention to Brutha.Vorbis was dreaded.Brutha fainted."How very strange," said Vorbis.A hissing noise made him look round.There was a small tortoise near his foot. As he glared, it tried to back away, and all the time it was staring at him and hissing like a kettle.He picked it up and examined it carefully, turning it over and over in his hands. Then he looked around the walled garden until he found a spot in full sunshine

William Blake Nebuchadnezzar

William Blake NebuchadnezzarWilliam Blake Jacob's LadderVincent van Gogh The Olive Trees
we do that?' said Conina.
'It would inn and were sitting on a bench in the afternoon sunshine. Even War had been persuaded to take off some of his armour.
'Dunno,' said Famine, 'Don't think so.'
Pestilence shut his crusted eyes and leaned back against the warm stones.
'I think,' he said, 'it was something about the end of the world.'
War sat and thoughtfully scratched his chin. He hic­cuped.
'What, the whole world?' he said.
'I reckon.'be nice to think so, wouldn't it?' said Nijel.'Yes, but did-’ she began.'Probably not. Who knows? Let's just find a horse,' he said. 'The Apogee,' said War, 'or something. I'm pretty sure.'They had staggered out of the

Albert Moore Idyll

Albert Moore IdyllAlbert Moore GardenAlbert Moore Apples
'How did-’ Conina began, but Nijel interrupted her.
'Wizards are privy to arcane knowledge, that's prob­ably what it is,' he said. 'Probably the carpet's got a geas on it to do the opposite of anything that's said. Can you make it go up further?'
'Yes, but build­ing its own tower. It's a sort of reaction. Wizards always used to build a tower around themselves, like those ... what do you call those things you find at the bottom of rivers?'
'Frogs.'
'Stones.'
'Unsuccessful gangsters.'
'Caddis flies is what I meant,' said Rincewind. 'When a wizard set I'm not going to,' said Rincewind. The carpet drifted slowly forward and, as happens so often at times like this, a rolling of masonry bounced right across the spot where it had lain.A moment later they were out in the open air, the storm of stone behind them.The palace was pulling itself to pieces, and the pieces were funnelling up into the air like a volcanic eruption in reverse. The sourcerous tower had completely disap­peared, but the stones were dancing towards the spot where it had stood and ...'They're building another tower!' said Nijel.'Out of my palace, too,' said Creosote.'The hat's won,' said Rincewind. 'That's why it's

John William Waterhouse The Enchanted Garden

John William Waterhouse The Enchanted GardenJohn William Waterhouse Psyche Entering Cupid's GardenJohn William Waterhouse Nymphs Finding the Head of Orpheus
muscular organ which powers the circulation of the blood. But look at it like this - you quite like her, don't you?
Well ... was missing. It took him a little while to realise what it was.
No-one had tried to sell him anything for several minutes. In Al Khali, that probably meant you were dead.
He, Corona and the Luggage were alone in a long, shady alley. He could hear the bustle of the city some way away, but immediately around them there was nothing except a rather expectant Rincewind hesitated. Yes, he thought, er ...She's pretty good company, eh? Nice voice?Well, of course ...You'd like to see more of her?Well ... Rincewind realised with some surprise that, yes, he would. It wasn't that he was entirely unused to the company of women, but it always seemed to cause trouble and, of course, it was a well known fact that it was bad for the magical abilities, although he had to admit that his particular magical abilities, being approximately those of a rubber hammer, were shaky enough to start with.Then you've got nothing to lose, have you? his libido put in, in an oily tone of thought.It was at this point Rincewind realised that something important

George Frederick Watts Watts Choosing

George Frederick Watts Watts ChoosingFrancisco de Zurbaran Rest on the flight to EgyptClaude Lorrain Seaport with the Embarkation of the Queen of Sheba
higher levels of wizardry are a perilous place. Every wizard is trying to dislodge the wizards above him while stamping on the fingers of those below; to say that wizards are healthily competitive by nature is like saying that bad form to kill a brother wizard, and wizards felt able to let their hair down without fear of being strangled with it.
The Archchancellor's chair was empty. Wayzygoose was dining alone in his study, as befits a man chosen by the gods after their serious discussion with sensible senior wizards earlier in the day. Despite his eighty years, he was feeling a little bit nervous and hardly touched his second chicken.
In a few minutes he would have to make a speech. Wayzygoose piranhas are naturally a little peckish. However, ever since the great Mage Wars left whole areas of the Disc uninhabitable[5], wizards have been forbidden to settle their differences by magical means, because it caused a lot of trouble for the population at large and in any case it was often difficult to tell which of the resultant patches of smoking fat had been the winner. So they traditionally resort to knives, subtle poisons, scorpions in shoes and hilarious booby traps involving razor-sharp pendulums.On Small Gods' Eve, however, it was considered extremely

Mark Rothko White over Red

Mark Rothko White over RedPaul Klee Red BridgePaul Klee Red And White Domes
There’s just panels of light,’ said Ludmilla.
‘Something else! Look for something it could be coming from!’
‘It’s coming from everywhere!’
‘Whatever you’re thinking of doing,’ said Doreen, picking up a potted plant and holding it like a club, ‘I hope you do it fast.’ ‘What’s that round black thing up there?’ said Arthur.
‘Where?’
‘There.
‘Artor! Nobblyesse obligay!’
‘What? Is that some sort of vampire code?’ Reg whispered. ‘It means something like: a count’s gotta do what a count’s gotta do,’ said Windle.
‘Count!’ snarled Arthur, swaying dangerously. ‘I
.’ Arthur pointed.‘OK, Reg and me will help you up, come on -‘‘Me? But I can’t stand heights!’‘I thought you could turn into a bat?’‘Yeah, but a very nervous one!’‘Stop complaining. Right - one foot here, now your hand here, now put your foot on Reg’s shoulder -‘ ‘And don’t go through,’ said Reg.‘I don’t like this!’ Arthur moaned, as they hoisted him up.Doreen stopped glaring at the creeping trolleys

Jean Francois Millet Man with a hoe

Jean Francois Millet Man with a hoeLorenzo Lotto Venus and CupidJean Fragonard The Bathers
crowd. ‘No-one could have got out of there alive! We saw it all blow up!’ Bill Door turned around slowly.
WE HID. he said, IN THE CELLAR.
‘the stairs and back into the night. The door slammed. He didn’t hear her come back up the stairs with a bowl of cold water and a flannel.
Miss Flitworth could walk lightly, too, when she had a mind to.
She came in and shut the door behind her.
‘Her parents’ll want to see her,’ she said.’Her mum’s in a faint and Big Henry from the mill knocked her dad out when he tried to run into the flames, but they’ll be here directly.’
She bent down and ran the flannel over the girl’s forehead.There! See?’ said Miss Flitworth. ‘In the cellar. Makes sense.’ ‘But the inn hasn’t got -‘ the doubter began, and stopped. Bill Door was glaring at him.‘In the cellar,’ he corrected himself. ‘Yeah. Right. Clever.’‘Very clever,’ said Miss Flitworth. ‘Now get along with the lot of you.’He heard her shoo them down

Pablo Picasso Seated Bather

Pablo Picasso Seated BatherPablo Picasso Mandolin and GuitarPablo Picasso Girl Before a Mirror
even think of setting foot in a religious establishment I get a pain all down my leg.’
‘Yes, but there was no need for him to say what he said when you pushed the lid off,’ said Doreen. ‘And him a priest, too. They shouldn’t know those kind of words.’
‘I enjoyed that temple,’ said Arthur, wistfully. ‘It was something to do on a Wednesday.’
It dawned on Windle Poons that Doreen had miraculously acquired the ability to use her double-yous.
‘And you’re a vampire too, Mrs Win . . . I do beg your pardon . . . Countess Notfaroutoe?’ he enquired politely.share her husband’s hobbies,’ said Doreen.’It iss vot keeps a marriage intervesting.’
‘Who wants an interesting marriage? I never said I wanted an interesting marriage. That’s what’s wrong with people today, expecting things like marriage to be interesting. And it’s not a hobby, anyway,’ moaned Arthur. ‘This vampiring’s not all it’s cracked up to be, you know. Can’t go out in daylight, can’t eat garlic, can’t have a decent shave -‘ ‘Why can’t you have a -‘ Windle began.
‘Can’t use a mirror,’ said Arthur.’I thought theThe Countess smiled. ‘My vord, yes, ‘ she said.‘By marriage,’ said Arthur.‘Can you do that? I thought you had to be bitten,’ said Windle.The voice under the chair sniggered.‘I don’t see why I should have to go around biting my wife after thirty years of marriage, and that’s flat,’ said the Count. ‘Every voman should

Paul Gauguin The Loss of Virginity

Paul Gauguin The Loss of VirginityPaul Gauguin Tahitian WomanPaul Gauguin JoyousnessThomas Kinkade country livingHenri Matisse View of Collioure
Thank goodness for old Teatar, he thought. Otherwise I’d already be looking at the underside of a rather cheap pine lid. Funny thing, he thought. I’m thinking. Clearly.
Wow.
Windle lay back, feeling his spirit refilling his body like gleaming molten metal ?filling? through a mould.
White-hot thoughts seared across the darkness of his brain, fired sluggish neurones into action.
It was of muscles. Now the body stood up. The knee joints resisted for a while, but they were no more able to withstand the onslaught of will-power than a sick mosquito can withstand a blowtorch.never like this when I was alive.But I’m not dead.Not alive and not dead.Sort of non-alive.Or un-dead.Oh dear . . . He swung himself upright. Muscles that hadn’t worked properly for seventy or eighty years jerked into overdrive. For the first time in his entire life, he corrected himself, better make that ‘period of existence’, Windle Poons’ body was entirely under Windle Poons’ control. And Windle Poons ‘ spirit wasn’t about to take any lip from a bunch