Jack Vettriano The Duellists

Jack Vettriano The DuellistsJack Vettriano The DrifterJack Vettriano The Direct Approach
background.
They'd never told her about this. Parents never do. Your father could be Death's apprentice and your mother Death's adopted daughter, but that's just fine detail when they become Parents. Parents were never young. They were merely waiting to become At least . . . the normal kind . . .
Her mother . . . the girl who would become her mother . . . was pressed against a pillar. She had actually improved with age, Susan thought. Her dress sense certainly had. And she mentally shook herself. Fashion comments? Now?
Death stood over Mort, sword in one hand and Mort's own lifetimer in the other.
YOU DON'T KNOW HOW SORRY THIS MAKES ME, he said.
'I might,' said Mort.Parents.Susan reached the end of the shelves.Death was standing over her father . . . she corrected herself, the boy who would be her father.Three red marks burned on his cheek where Death had struck him. Susan raised a hand to the pale marks on her own face.But that's not how heredity works.

Wassily Kandinsky Dominant Curve

Wassily Kandinsky Dominant CurveWassily Kandinsky Several CirclesWassily Kandinsky Composition VIII
put his foot down and that was the end of it. He was about the only one who could argue with the Master, your dad. You'd have been about four then, I think.'
Susan raised her in her head.
'I remember about that bathroom now,' she said. 'It's all coming back to me.'
'Nah, it never went away. It just got papered over.'
'He was no good at plumbing. What does Y M R‑C‑I‑G‑B‑S A, A­M mean?'
'Young Men's Reformed‑Cultists‑of‑the‑Ichor‑God‑Bel­Shamharoth Association, Ankh‑Morpork,' said Albert. 'It's where I stay if I have to go back down for anything. Soap and suchlike.'hand thoughtfully and touched the pale lines on her cheek.'The Master said they were raising you according to,' Albert sneered, 'modern methods. Logic. And thinking old stuff is silly. I dunno . . . I suppose they wanted to keep you away from . . . ideas like this . . .''I was given a ride on the horse,' said Susan, not listening to him. ' I had a bath in the big bathroom.''Soap all over the place,' said Albert. His face contorted into something approaching a smile. 'I could hear the Master laughing from here. And he made you a swing, too. Tried to, anyway. No magic or anything. With his actual hands.'Susan sat while memories woke and yawned and unfolded

Franz Marc Drei Katzen

Franz Marc Drei KatzenFranz Marc Dog Lying in the SnowFranz Marc Die kleinen gelben PferdeFranz Marc Deer in the Woods II
Detritus hit him over the head with his club.
'Up you get, now!' Detritus boomed.
'Thank you, Acting-Constable Detritus,' said Colon wearily. 'Captain Vimes is getting married today. We're Koing to provide a guard of honour. That's what we always used to do in the old days when a Watchman got wed. So I want helmets and breastplates bright and shiny. And cohorts gleaming. Not a speck of muck . . . where's Corporal Nobbs?'
There was a dink as Acting-Constable Detritus' hand bounced off his new helmet.
' Hasn't been seen for hours, sir!' he reported.
Colon rolled his eyes.soldiers! Hand off rock and on with sock! It another beautiful day inna Watch! Lance-Constable Coalface, on your feet, you horrible little man!'Twenty minutes later a bleary-eyed Sergeant Colon surveyed the troops. They were slumped on the benches, except for Acting-Constable Detritus, who was sitting bolt upright with an air of official helpfulness.'Right, men,' Colon began, 'now, as you—''You men, you listen up good right

Leroy Neiman Beach at Cannes

Leroy Neiman Beach at CannesLeroy Neiman April at AugustaLeroy Neiman Amphitheatre at RiveraLeroy Neiman American Stock Exchange
of meat in the middle of a piranha school.
Everyone dealt with it in their own way. Colon never thought about it, and Nobby didn't worry about it, and the new ones hadn't been in long enough to be worn down by it, and Carrot . . . was just himself.
Hundreds of people She stopped when she saw his expression. 'There's something wrong, isn't there?'
'I'm not going back,' said Vimes.
'Really? Last week you said you'd do a full watch. You said you were looking forward to it.'
Not much gets past old Sybil, Vimes thought.died in the city every day, often of suicide. So what did a few more matter?The Vimes inside hammered on the walls.There were quite a few coaches outside the Ramkin mansion, and the place seemed to be infested with assorted female relatives and Interchangeable Emmas. They were baking things and polishing things. Vimes strolled through, more or less unregarded.He found Sybil out in the dragon house, in her rubber boots and protective dragon armour. She was mucking out, apparently blissfully unaware of the controlled uproar in the mansion.She looked up as the door shut behind Vimes.'Oh, there you are. You're home early,' she said. 'I couldn't stand the fuss, so I came out here. But I'll have to go and change soon—'

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