Alfred Gockel Stroking the KeysAlfred Gockel Moved By The Music VWassily Kandinsky Upward
voice was normal now, no trace of whine or wheedle. The figure turned and brought her stick down hard on something in the corridor.
'Naughty boy, Dribbling Sidney! You could have told I it were Corporal Carrot!'
'Arrgh!'
The figure strode into the room.
'And who's your ladyfriend, Mr Carrot?'
'This is Lance-Constable Angua. Angua, this is Queen Molly of the Beggars.'
For once, Angua 'Mine. It's my dressing room.'
'Then whoever did it wasn't after her. He was after you, Molly. "Some in rags, and some in tags, and one in a velvet gown" . . . it's in your Charter, isn't it? Official dress of the chief beggar. She probably couldn't resist seeing what it looked like on her. Right gown, right room. Wrong person.'noted, someone wasn't surprised to find a female in the Watch. Queen Molly nodded at her as one working woman to another. The Beggars' Guild was an equal-opportunity non-employer.'Good day to you. You couldn't spare I ten thousand dollars for a small mansion, could you?''No.''Just asking.'Queen Molly prodded at the gown.'What was it, corporal?''I think it's a new kind of weapon.''We heard the glass smash and there she was,' said Molly. 'Why would anyone want to kill her?'Carrot looked at the velvet cloak.'Whose room is this?' he said.
Tuesday 28 April 2009
Claude Monet Water Lilies
Claude Monet Water LiliesClaude Monet Chemin dans les Bles a PourvilleVincent van Gogh Wheatfield under a Cloudy SkyClaude Monet Water Lilies 1903
gets me is that he was murdered,' said Carrot.
Mr Cheese passed along the line again. They stared at the drinks. They drank the drinks.
Because the fact was that, despite all evidence to the contrary, murder was not a commonplace occurrence in Ankh-Morpork. There were, it was true, assassinations. And as aforesaid there were many ways one could inadvertently commit suicide. And there were occasional domestic fracas on a Saturday night as people sought a cheaper alternative to . 'I wouldn't do that for a big clock. They can be fearsome when they're angry, those little buggers.'
Everyone nodded gloomily, including the little bugger and the bigger little bugger by adoption.
They stared at the drinks. They drank the drinks.divorce. There were all these things, but at least they had a reason, however unreasonable.'Big man in the dwarfs, was Mr Hammerhock,' said Carrot. 'A good citizen, too. Wasn't always stirring up old trouble like Mr Stronginthearm.''He's got a workshop in Rime Street,' said Nobby.'Had,' said Sergeant Colon.They stared at the drinks. They drank the drinks.'What I want to know is,' said Angua, 'what put that hole in him?''Never see anything like that,' said Colon.'Hadn't someone better go and tell Mrs Hammer-hock?' said Angua.'Captain Vimes is doing it,' said Carrot. 'He said he wouldn't ask anyone else to do it.''Rather him than me,' said Colon fervently
gets me is that he was murdered,' said Carrot.
Mr Cheese passed along the line again. They stared at the drinks. They drank the drinks.
Because the fact was that, despite all evidence to the contrary, murder was not a commonplace occurrence in Ankh-Morpork. There were, it was true, assassinations. And as aforesaid there were many ways one could inadvertently commit suicide. And there were occasional domestic fracas on a Saturday night as people sought a cheaper alternative to . 'I wouldn't do that for a big clock. They can be fearsome when they're angry, those little buggers.'
Everyone nodded gloomily, including the little bugger and the bigger little bugger by adoption.
They stared at the drinks. They drank the drinks.divorce. There were all these things, but at least they had a reason, however unreasonable.'Big man in the dwarfs, was Mr Hammerhock,' said Carrot. 'A good citizen, too. Wasn't always stirring up old trouble like Mr Stronginthearm.''He's got a workshop in Rime Street,' said Nobby.'Had,' said Sergeant Colon.They stared at the drinks. They drank the drinks.'What I want to know is,' said Angua, 'what put that hole in him?''Never see anything like that,' said Colon.'Hadn't someone better go and tell Mrs Hammer-hock?' said Angua.'Captain Vimes is doing it,' said Carrot. 'He said he wouldn't ask anyone else to do it.''Rather him than me,' said Colon fervently
Sunday 26 April 2009
Piet Mondrian Gray Tree
Piet Mondrian Gray TreePiet Mondrian Composition with Yellow Blue and RedPiet Mondrian Composition with Red YellowPiet Mondrian Composition with Red Yellow and Blue
done. The exact amount.'
'No, the shopkeeper said—'
'Come on. Back to who is fully paid up this year with the Thieves' Guild when a hooded figure stepped out in front of him.
'Beano?'
'Oh, hello . . . it's Edward, right?'
The figure hesitated.the Watch House. Come on, Here'n'now. It's your lucky day.''Why is it his lucky day?' said Angua. 'He was caught, wasn't he?''Yes. By us. Thieves' Guild didn't get him first. They aren't so kind as us.'Here'n'now's head bounced from cobblestone to cobblestone.'Pinching three dollars and then trotting straight home,' sighed Carrot. 'That's Here'n'now. Worst thief in the world.''But you said Thieves' Guild—''When you've been here a while, you'll understand how it all works,' said Carrot. Here'n'now's head banged on the kerb. 'Eventually,' Carrot added. 'But it all does work. You'd be amazed. It all works. I wish it didn't. But it does.' While Here'n'now was being mildly concussed on the way to the safety of the Watch's jail, a down was being killed.He was ambling along an alley with the assurance of one
done. The exact amount.'
'No, the shopkeeper said—'
'Come on. Back to who is fully paid up this year with the Thieves' Guild when a hooded figure stepped out in front of him.
'Beano?'
'Oh, hello . . . it's Edward, right?'
The figure hesitated.the Watch House. Come on, Here'n'now. It's your lucky day.''Why is it his lucky day?' said Angua. 'He was caught, wasn't he?''Yes. By us. Thieves' Guild didn't get him first. They aren't so kind as us.'Here'n'now's head bounced from cobblestone to cobblestone.'Pinching three dollars and then trotting straight home,' sighed Carrot. 'That's Here'n'now. Worst thief in the world.''But you said Thieves' Guild—''When you've been here a while, you'll understand how it all works,' said Carrot. Here'n'now's head banged on the kerb. 'Eventually,' Carrot added. 'But it all does work. You'd be amazed. It all works. I wish it didn't. But it does.' While Here'n'now was being mildly concussed on the way to the safety of the Watch's jail, a down was being killed.He was ambling along an alley with the assurance of one
Friday 24 April 2009
Vincent van Gogh Fishing in Spring
Vincent van Gogh Fishing in SpringUnknown Artist Ranson Apple Tree with Red FruitUnknown Artist Spring is in the AirSalvador Dali The Great Masturbator
knew there was such a thing as heroic odds. Songs and ballads and stories and poems were full of stories about one person single-handedly taking on and defeating a vast number of enemies.
Only now was it dawning on her that the trouble was that they were songs and ballads and stories and poems because they dealt with things that were, not to put too fine a point on it, untrue.
Terry Pratchett
She couldn’t, now she had time to think about it, ever remember an example from history.
In the woods to onethen its world flowed away from it...
This is the inside of the mind of an elf:
Here are the normal five senses but they are all subordi-nate to the sixth sense. There is no formal word for it on the Discworld, because the force is so weak that it is only ever encountered by observant blacksmiths, who call it the Love of Iron. Navigators might have discovered it were it not that the Disc’s standing magical field is much more reliable. But bees sense side of her an elf raised its bow and took careful aim.A twig snapped behind it. It turned.The Bursar beamed.“Whoopsy daisy, old trouser, my bean’s all runny.”The elf swung the bow.A pair of prehensile feet dropped out of the greenery, gripped it by the shoulders, and pulled it upward sharply. There was a crack as its head hit the underside of a branch.“Oook.”“Move right along!”On the other side of the path another elf took aim. And
knew there was such a thing as heroic odds. Songs and ballads and stories and poems were full of stories about one person single-handedly taking on and defeating a vast number of enemies.
Only now was it dawning on her that the trouble was that they were songs and ballads and stories and poems because they dealt with things that were, not to put too fine a point on it, untrue.
Terry Pratchett
She couldn’t, now she had time to think about it, ever remember an example from history.
In the woods to onethen its world flowed away from it...
This is the inside of the mind of an elf:
Here are the normal five senses but they are all subordi-nate to the sixth sense. There is no formal word for it on the Discworld, because the force is so weak that it is only ever encountered by observant blacksmiths, who call it the Love of Iron. Navigators might have discovered it were it not that the Disc’s standing magical field is much more reliable. But bees sense side of her an elf raised its bow and took careful aim.A twig snapped behind it. It turned.The Bursar beamed.“Whoopsy daisy, old trouser, my bean’s all runny.”The elf swung the bow.A pair of prehensile feet dropped out of the greenery, gripped it by the shoulders, and pulled it upward sharply. There was a crack as its head hit the underside of a branch.“Oook.”“Move right along!”On the other side of the path another elf took aim. And
Wednesday 22 April 2009
Salvador Dali The Transparent Simulacrum of the Feigned Image
Salvador Dali The Transparent Simulacrum of the Feigned ImageSalvador Dali The Disintegration of the Persistence of MemorySalvador Dali The Crucifixion
wonderful about walking home with your boots full of wine. Ain’t you hungry? If you don’t want that bit of gristle, I’ll eat it. anymore of them lobsters? Never had lobster before. And that mayonnaise. And them little eggs stuffed with stuff. Mind you, that bramble jam tasted of fish, to my mind.”
“ ‘S caviar,” murmured Casanunda.
He was sitting bottle.
As for the food . . . well, she enjoyed that, too. Casanunda had never seen that elbow action before. Show Nanny Ogg a good dinner and she went at it with knife, fork, and rammer. Watching her eat a lobster was a particu-lar experience he would not forget in a hurry. They’d be picking bits of claw out of the woodwork for weeks.
And the asparagus ... he might actually try to forget Nanny Ogg putting away asparagus, but he suspected the with his chin on his hand, watching her in rapt infatuation.He was, he was surprised to find, enjoying himself immensely while not horizontal.198LOR06 ft/YO LftD/eSHe knew how this sort of dinner was supposed to go. It was one of the basic weapons in the seducer’s armory. The amoratrix was plied with fine wines and expensive yet light dishes. There was much knowing eye contact across the table, and tangling of feet underneath it. There was much pointed eating of pears and bananas and so on. And thus the ship of temptation steered, gently yet inexorably, to a good docking.And then there was Nanny Ogg.Nanny Ogg appreciated fine wine in her very own way. It would never have occurred to Casanunda that anyone would top up white wine with port merely because she’d reached the end of the
wonderful about walking home with your boots full of wine. Ain’t you hungry? If you don’t want that bit of gristle, I’ll eat it. anymore of them lobsters? Never had lobster before. And that mayonnaise. And them little eggs stuffed with stuff. Mind you, that bramble jam tasted of fish, to my mind.”
“ ‘S caviar,” murmured Casanunda.
He was sitting bottle.
As for the food . . . well, she enjoyed that, too. Casanunda had never seen that elbow action before. Show Nanny Ogg a good dinner and she went at it with knife, fork, and rammer. Watching her eat a lobster was a particu-lar experience he would not forget in a hurry. They’d be picking bits of claw out of the woodwork for weeks.
And the asparagus ... he might actually try to forget Nanny Ogg putting away asparagus, but he suspected the with his chin on his hand, watching her in rapt infatuation.He was, he was surprised to find, enjoying himself immensely while not horizontal.198LOR06 ft/YO LftD/eSHe knew how this sort of dinner was supposed to go. It was one of the basic weapons in the seducer’s armory. The amoratrix was plied with fine wines and expensive yet light dishes. There was much knowing eye contact across the table, and tangling of feet underneath it. There was much pointed eating of pears and bananas and so on. And thus the ship of temptation steered, gently yet inexorably, to a good docking.And then there was Nanny Ogg.Nanny Ogg appreciated fine wine in her very own way. It would never have occurred to Casanunda that anyone would top up white wine with port merely because she’d reached the end of the
Tuesday 21 April 2009
Pop art miles davis no.8
Pop art miles davis no.8Pop art miles 1960Pop art miles 1960, on rust
home of some daft old bat who reads tea leaves and
talks to her cat.
Cottages It was a cottage of questioning witches, research witches.
Eye of what newt? What species of ravined salt-sea shark? It’s all very well a potion calling for Love-in-idleness, but which of the thirty-seven common plants called by that name in various parts of the continent was actually meant?
The reason that Granny Weatherwax was a better witch than Magrat was that she knew that in witchcraft it didn’t mat-ter a damn which one it was, or even if it was a piece of grass.
The reason that Magrat was a better doctor than Granny was that she thought it didtend to attract similar kinds of witches. It’s nat-ural. Every witch trains up one or two young witches in their life, and when in the course of mortal time the cottage becomes vacant it’s only sense for one of them to move Terry PratchettMagrat’s cottage traditionally housed thoughtful witches who noticed things and wrote things down. Which herbs were better than others for headaches, fragments of old sto-ries, odds and ends like that.There were a dozen books of tiny handwriting and draw-ings, the occasional interesting flower or unusual frog pressed carefully between the pages.
home of some daft old bat who reads tea leaves and
talks to her cat.
Cottages It was a cottage of questioning witches, research witches.
Eye of what newt? What species of ravined salt-sea shark? It’s all very well a potion calling for Love-in-idleness, but which of the thirty-seven common plants called by that name in various parts of the continent was actually meant?
The reason that Granny Weatherwax was a better witch than Magrat was that she knew that in witchcraft it didn’t mat-ter a damn which one it was, or even if it was a piece of grass.
The reason that Magrat was a better doctor than Granny was that she thought it didtend to attract similar kinds of witches. It’s nat-ural. Every witch trains up one or two young witches in their life, and when in the course of mortal time the cottage becomes vacant it’s only sense for one of them to move Terry PratchettMagrat’s cottage traditionally housed thoughtful witches who noticed things and wrote things down. Which herbs were better than others for headaches, fragments of old sto-ries, odds and ends like that.There were a dozen books of tiny handwriting and draw-ings, the occasional interesting flower or unusual frog pressed carefully between the pages.
Monday 20 April 2009
Camille Pissarro The Harvest 1882
Camille Pissarro The Harvest 1882Camille Pissarro The garden at Pontoise 1877Camille Pissarro The Chestnut Trees at OsnyCamille Pissarro Rue de Louveciennes 1872
falconer appeared around the comer, dabbing at his face with a handkerchief. On his other arm, claws gripping like a torture instrument, was a bird. Evil red eyes glared at Magrat over a razor-sharp beak.
“I’ve got a new hawk,” said Hodgesaargh proudly. “It’s a
Lancre crowhawk. They’ve never been tamed before. I’m
taming it. I’ve much patient breeding and training Hodgesaargh had man-aged to get them to let go of someone’s wrist, and now he was working on stopping them viciously attacking the per-son who had just been holding them, i.e., invariably Hodgesaargh. He was nevertheless a remarkably optimistic and good-natured man who lived for the day when his hawks would be the finest in the world. The hawks lived for the day when they could eat his other ear.
“I can see you’re doing very well,” said Magrat. “You don’t think, do you, that already stopped it pecking myooooow—“He flailed the hawk madly against the wall until it let go of his nose.Strictly speaking, Hodgesaargh wasn’t his real name. Onthe other hand, on the basis that someone’s real name is the97Terry Pratchettname they introduce themselves to you by, he was definitely Hodgesaargh.This was because the hawks and falcons in the castle mews were all Lancre birds and therefore naturally pos-sessed of a certain “sod you” independence of mind. After
falconer appeared around the comer, dabbing at his face with a handkerchief. On his other arm, claws gripping like a torture instrument, was a bird. Evil red eyes glared at Magrat over a razor-sharp beak.
“I’ve got a new hawk,” said Hodgesaargh proudly. “It’s a
Lancre crowhawk. They’ve never been tamed before. I’m
taming it. I’ve much patient breeding and training Hodgesaargh had man-aged to get them to let go of someone’s wrist, and now he was working on stopping them viciously attacking the per-son who had just been holding them, i.e., invariably Hodgesaargh. He was nevertheless a remarkably optimistic and good-natured man who lived for the day when his hawks would be the finest in the world. The hawks lived for the day when they could eat his other ear.
“I can see you’re doing very well,” said Magrat. “You don’t think, do you, that already stopped it pecking myooooow—“He flailed the hawk madly against the wall until it let go of his nose.Strictly speaking, Hodgesaargh wasn’t his real name. Onthe other hand, on the basis that someone’s real name is the97Terry Pratchettname they introduce themselves to you by, he was definitely Hodgesaargh.This was because the hawks and falcons in the castle mews were all Lancre birds and therefore naturally pos-sessed of a certain “sod you” independence of mind. After
Friday 17 April 2009
Cao Yong SUMMER BREEZE
Cao Yong SUMMER BREEZECao Yong SACRED POOLSCao Yong Red Umbrella
Beans, peas . . . you know. Nitrogen fixers. And marl and lime, of course. Scientific husbandry. Come and look at this.”
He bounced away enthusiastically.
“You know,” he said, “we could really make this king-dom work.”
Magrat trailed with it.
21
Terry Pratchett
Perhaps that was normal. Kings were busy people.
Magrat’s experience of marrying them was limited.
“Where are we going?” she said.
“The old rose garden.”after him.So that was all settled, then. Not a proposal, just a state-ment. She hadn’t been quite sure how the moment would be, even in the darkest hours of the night, but she’d had an idea that roses and sunsets and bluebirds might just possibly be involved. Clover had not figured largely Beans and other leguminous nitrogen fixers were not a central feature.On the other hand Magrat was, at the core, far more practical than most people believed who saw no further than her vague smile and collection of more than three hundred pieces of occult jewelry, none of which worked.So this was how you got married to a king. It all got arranged for you. There were no white horses. The past flipped straight into the future, carrying you
Beans, peas . . . you know. Nitrogen fixers. And marl and lime, of course. Scientific husbandry. Come and look at this.”
He bounced away enthusiastically.
“You know,” he said, “we could really make this king-dom work.”
Magrat trailed with it.
21
Terry Pratchett
Perhaps that was normal. Kings were busy people.
Magrat’s experience of marrying them was limited.
“Where are we going?” she said.
“The old rose garden.”after him.So that was all settled, then. Not a proposal, just a state-ment. She hadn’t been quite sure how the moment would be, even in the darkest hours of the night, but she’d had an idea that roses and sunsets and bluebirds might just possibly be involved. Clover had not figured largely Beans and other leguminous nitrogen fixers were not a central feature.On the other hand Magrat was, at the core, far more practical than most people believed who saw no further than her vague smile and collection of more than three hundred pieces of occult jewelry, none of which worked.So this was how you got married to a king. It all got arranged for you. There were no white horses. The past flipped straight into the future, carrying you
Thursday 16 April 2009
Arthur Hughes April Love
Arthur Hughes April LoveAlbert Bierstadt The Buffalo TrailAlbert Bierstadt The Shore of the Turquoise Sea
Careful, careful. Concentrate, concentrate. It'll let go any second . . .
Om stuck out his long scrawny neck, stared at the body just above him, picked what he hoped was about the right spot, plunged his beak through the brown feathers between the talons, and gripped.
The eagle blinked. No tortoise had ever done that to an eagle, anywhere else in history.
Om's thoughts with you. Understand? This is important. This is what I want you to do . . ."
The eagle soared on a thermal off the hot rocks, and sped towards the distant gleam of the Citadel.
No tortoise had ever done this before. No tortoise in the whole universe. But no tortoise had ever been a god, and knew the unwritten motto of the Quisition: Cuius testiculos habes, habeas cardia et cerebellum.
When you have their full attention in your grip, their hearts and minds will follow.
arrived in the little silvery world of its mind:"We don't want to hurt one another, now do we?"The eagle blinked again.Eagles have never evolved much imagination or forethought, beyond that necessary to know that a turtle smashes when you drop it on the rocks. But it was forming a mental picture of what happened when you let go of a heavy tortoise that was still intimately gripping an essential bit of you.Its eyes watered.Another thought crept into its mind."Now. You play, uh, ball with me, I'll play . . . ball
Careful, careful. Concentrate, concentrate. It'll let go any second . . .
Om stuck out his long scrawny neck, stared at the body just above him, picked what he hoped was about the right spot, plunged his beak through the brown feathers between the talons, and gripped.
The eagle blinked. No tortoise had ever done that to an eagle, anywhere else in history.
Om's thoughts with you. Understand? This is important. This is what I want you to do . . ."
The eagle soared on a thermal off the hot rocks, and sped towards the distant gleam of the Citadel.
No tortoise had ever done this before. No tortoise in the whole universe. But no tortoise had ever been a god, and knew the unwritten motto of the Quisition: Cuius testiculos habes, habeas cardia et cerebellum.
When you have their full attention in your grip, their hearts and minds will follow.
arrived in the little silvery world of its mind:"We don't want to hurt one another, now do we?"The eagle blinked again.Eagles have never evolved much imagination or forethought, beyond that necessary to know that a turtle smashes when you drop it on the rocks. But it was forming a mental picture of what happened when you let go of a heavy tortoise that was still intimately gripping an essential bit of you.Its eyes watered.Another thought crept into its mind."Now. You play, uh, ball with me, I'll play . . . ball
Wednesday 15 April 2009
Paul Gauguin When Will You Marry
Paul Gauguin When Will You MarryPaul Gauguin What Are You JealousPaul Gauguin Two Tahitian Women
lies have already poisoned the world!"
"Then I shall write another book," said Didactylos calmly. "Think how it will look-proud Didactylos swayed by the arguments of the Omnians. A full retraction. Hmm? In fact, with your permission, lord-I know you have much to do, looting and burning and so on-I will retire to my barrel right away and start work on it. A universe of spheres. Balls spinning through space. Hmm. Yes. With your permission, lord, I will write you more balls than you can imagine . . ."
The old philosopher turned and, very slowly, walked towards the exit.
Vorbis watched him go.
Brutha saw him half-raise his hand to signal the guards, and then lower it again.
Vorbis turned to the Tyrant.
"So much for your-" rush of blood in his ears. Didactylos had been a better thinker than he'd thought.
"Yes, lord?"
"You will take a party of men, and you will take them to the Library . . . and then, Brutha, you will burn the Library."
he began."Coo-ee!"The lantern sailed through the doorway and shattered against Vorbis's skull."Nevertheless . . . the Turtle Moves!"Vorbis leapt to his feet."I-” he screamed, and then got a grip on himself. He waved irritably at a couple of the guards. "I want him caught. Now. And . . . Brutha?"Brutha could hardly hear him for the Didactylos was blind, but it was dark. The pursuing guards could see, except that there was nothing to see by
lies have already poisoned the world!"
"Then I shall write another book," said Didactylos calmly. "Think how it will look-proud Didactylos swayed by the arguments of the Omnians. A full retraction. Hmm? In fact, with your permission, lord-I know you have much to do, looting and burning and so on-I will retire to my barrel right away and start work on it. A universe of spheres. Balls spinning through space. Hmm. Yes. With your permission, lord, I will write you more balls than you can imagine . . ."
The old philosopher turned and, very slowly, walked towards the exit.
Vorbis watched him go.
Brutha saw him half-raise his hand to signal the guards, and then lower it again.
Vorbis turned to the Tyrant.
"So much for your-" rush of blood in his ears. Didactylos had been a better thinker than he'd thought.
"Yes, lord?"
"You will take a party of men, and you will take them to the Library . . . and then, Brutha, you will burn the Library."
he began."Coo-ee!"The lantern sailed through the doorway and shattered against Vorbis's skull."Nevertheless . . . the Turtle Moves!"Vorbis leapt to his feet."I-” he screamed, and then got a grip on himself. He waved irritably at a couple of the guards. "I want him caught. Now. And . . . Brutha?"Brutha could hardly hear him for the Didactylos was blind, but it was dark. The pursuing guards could see, except that there was nothing to see by
Tuesday 14 April 2009
Salvador Dali Paysage aux papillons (Landscape with Butterflies)
Salvador Dali Paysage aux papillons (Landscape with Butterflies)Salvador Dali MirageSalvador Dali Melting Watch
Vorbis was standing there. In the flickering light of the oil lamp, his face registered polite concern.
"Excuse the lateness of the hour, my lord," he said. "But I thought we should talk. About tomorrow."
The "I'm going to rattle around like a pea in a pot," grumbled the tortoise.
"I could put some more straw in. And, look, I've got these."
A pile of greenstuff dropped on Om's head.
"From the kitchen," said Brutha. "Peelings and cabbage. I stole them," he added, "but then I thought it can't be stealing if I'm doing it for you."
The fetid smell of the half-rotten leaves suggested strongly that sword clattered out of Fri'it's hand.Vorbis leaned forward."Is there something wrong, brother?" he said.He smiled, and stepped into the room. Two hooded inquisitors slipped in behind him."Brother," Vorbis said again. And shut the door. "How is it in there?" said Brutha.
Vorbis was standing there. In the flickering light of the oil lamp, his face registered polite concern.
"Excuse the lateness of the hour, my lord," he said. "But I thought we should talk. About tomorrow."
The "I'm going to rattle around like a pea in a pot," grumbled the tortoise.
"I could put some more straw in. And, look, I've got these."
A pile of greenstuff dropped on Om's head.
"From the kitchen," said Brutha. "Peelings and cabbage. I stole them," he added, "but then I thought it can't be stealing if I'm doing it for you."
The fetid smell of the half-rotten leaves suggested strongly that sword clattered out of Fri'it's hand.Vorbis leaned forward."Is there something wrong, brother?" he said.He smiled, and stepped into the room. Two hooded inquisitors slipped in behind him."Brother," Vorbis said again. And shut the door. "How is it in there?" said Brutha.
Monday 13 April 2009
Thomas Cole Kaaterskill Falls
Thomas Cole Kaaterskill FallsClaude Monet Vetheuil In SummerClaude Monet The Luncheon
going to Ephebe, on a mission to the infidels. Deacon Vorbis picked me. He's my friend."
"Who's he?"
"He's the chief exquisitor. He . . . makes sure you're worshiped properly."
Om picked up the hesitation in Brutha's voice, and remembered the grating. And the sheer busyness below . . .
"He tortures people," he said coldly.
"Oh, no! The the process?"
"But that doesn't matter," said Brutha earnestly.
"What happens to us in this life is not really real.
There may be a little pain, but that doesn't matter. Not if it ensures less time in the hells after death."
"But what if the exquisitors are wrong?" said the tortoise.
"They can't be wrong," said Brutha. "They are guided by the hand of . . . by your hand . . . your front leg . . . I mean, your claw," he mumbled.inquisitors do that. They work very long hours for not much money, too, Brother Nhumrod says. No, the exquisitors just . . . arrange matters. Every inquisitor wants to become an exquisitor one day, Brother Nhumrod says. That's why they put up with being on duty at all hours. They go for days without sleep, sometimes.""Torturing people," mused the God. No, a mind like that one in the garden wouldn't pick up a knife. Other people would do that. Vorbis would enjoy other methods."Letting out the badness and the heresy in people," said Brutha."But people . . . perhaps . . . don't survive
going to Ephebe, on a mission to the infidels. Deacon Vorbis picked me. He's my friend."
"Who's he?"
"He's the chief exquisitor. He . . . makes sure you're worshiped properly."
Om picked up the hesitation in Brutha's voice, and remembered the grating. And the sheer busyness below . . .
"He tortures people," he said coldly.
"Oh, no! The the process?"
"But that doesn't matter," said Brutha earnestly.
"What happens to us in this life is not really real.
There may be a little pain, but that doesn't matter. Not if it ensures less time in the hells after death."
"But what if the exquisitors are wrong?" said the tortoise.
"They can't be wrong," said Brutha. "They are guided by the hand of . . . by your hand . . . your front leg . . . I mean, your claw," he mumbled.inquisitors do that. They work very long hours for not much money, too, Brother Nhumrod says. No, the exquisitors just . . . arrange matters. Every inquisitor wants to become an exquisitor one day, Brother Nhumrod says. That's why they put up with being on duty at all hours. They go for days without sleep, sometimes.""Torturing people," mused the God. No, a mind like that one in the garden wouldn't pick up a knife. Other people would do that. Vorbis would enjoy other methods."Letting out the badness and the heresy in people," said Brutha."But people . . . perhaps . . . don't survive
Tamara de Lempicka Dormeuse
Tamara de Lempicka DormeuseTamara de Lempicka AndromedaTamara de Lempicka Adam and Eve
any case, hard to talk to Brother Nhumrod, who had a nervous habit of squinting at the speaker's lips and repeating the last few words they said practically as they said them. He also touched things all the time-walls, infinite wisdom sees fit, the God speaks to a chosen one and he becomes a great prophet," said Nhumrod. "Now, I am sure you wouldn't presume to consider yourself one of them? Mmm?"
"No, master."
"-master. But there are other voices," said Brother Nhumrod, and now his voice had a slight tremolofurniture, people-as if he was afraid the universe would disappear if he didn't keep hold of it. And he had so many nervous tics that they had to queue. Brother Nhumrod was perfectly normal for someone who had survived in the Citadel for fifty years."Well . . ." Brutha began.Brother Nhumrod held up a skinny hand. Brutha could see the pale blue veins in it."And I am sure you know that there are two kinds of voice that are heard by the spiritual," said the master of novices. One eyebrow began to twitch."Yes, master. Brother Murduck told us that," said Brutha, meekly."-told us that. Yes. Sometimes, as He in His
any case, hard to talk to Brother Nhumrod, who had a nervous habit of squinting at the speaker's lips and repeating the last few words they said practically as they said them. He also touched things all the time-walls, infinite wisdom sees fit, the God speaks to a chosen one and he becomes a great prophet," said Nhumrod. "Now, I am sure you wouldn't presume to consider yourself one of them? Mmm?"
"No, master."
"-master. But there are other voices," said Brother Nhumrod, and now his voice had a slight tremolofurniture, people-as if he was afraid the universe would disappear if he didn't keep hold of it. And he had so many nervous tics that they had to queue. Brother Nhumrod was perfectly normal for someone who had survived in the Citadel for fifty years."Well . . ." Brutha began.Brother Nhumrod held up a skinny hand. Brutha could see the pale blue veins in it."And I am sure you know that there are two kinds of voice that are heard by the spiritual," said the master of novices. One eyebrow began to twitch."Yes, master. Brother Murduck told us that," said Brutha, meekly."-told us that. Yes. Sometimes, as He in His
Friday 10 April 2009
Salvador Dali Asummpta Corpuscularia Lapislazulina
Salvador Dali Asummpta Corpuscularia LapislazulinaJohn Singer Sargent A Morning Walk ladyJohn Singer Sargent The Chess Game
'Great,' said the genie, sincerely, and glanced at his wrist. 'Hey, is that the time?' He vanished.
The three of them looked at the lamp in thoughtful silence, and then Nijel said, 'Whatever happened to, you know, He was now holding something curved and shiny to his ear, and listening intently. He looked hurriedly at Conina's angry face and contrived to suggest, by waggling his eyebrows and waving his free hand urgently, that he was currently and inconveniently tied up by irksome matters which, regretfully, prevented him giving her his full attention as of now but, as soon as he had disentangled himself from this importunate person, she could rest assured that her wish, which the fat guys with the baggy trousers and I Hear And Obey O Master?'Creosote snarled. He'd just drunk his drink. It had turned out to be water with bubbles in it and a taste like warm flatirons.'I'm bloody well not standing for it,' snarled Conina. She snatched the lamp from his hand and rubbed it as if she was sorry she wasn't holding a handful of emery cloth.The genie reappeared at a different spot, which still managed to be several feet away from the weak explosion and obligatory cloud of smoke.
'Great,' said the genie, sincerely, and glanced at his wrist. 'Hey, is that the time?' He vanished.
The three of them looked at the lamp in thoughtful silence, and then Nijel said, 'Whatever happened to, you know, He was now holding something curved and shiny to his ear, and listening intently. He looked hurriedly at Conina's angry face and contrived to suggest, by waggling his eyebrows and waving his free hand urgently, that he was currently and inconveniently tied up by irksome matters which, regretfully, prevented him giving her his full attention as of now but, as soon as he had disentangled himself from this importunate person, she could rest assured that her wish, which the fat guys with the baggy trousers and I Hear And Obey O Master?'Creosote snarled. He'd just drunk his drink. It had turned out to be water with bubbles in it and a taste like warm flatirons.'I'm bloody well not standing for it,' snarled Conina. She snatched the lamp from his hand and rubbed it as if she was sorry she wasn't holding a handful of emery cloth.The genie reappeared at a different spot, which still managed to be several feet away from the weak explosion and obligatory cloud of smoke.
Wednesday 8 April 2009
Thomas Kinkade Blessings of Christmas
Thomas Kinkade Blessings of ChristmasThomas Kinkade Beyond Summer GateThomas Kinkade Autumn Snow
a voice in your head?'
'Yes!'
'It did that to me, too.'
'But it knew my name!'
Of course we 'Yes, well, but she ran away before I was born,' Rincewind mumbled.
Of all the disreputable taverns in all the city you could have walked into, you walked into his, complained the hat.
'He was the only wizard I could find,' said the girl, 'He looked the part. He do, stupid fellow. We are supposed to be a magic hat after all.The hat's voice wasn't only clothy. It also had a strange choral effect, as if an awful lot of voices were talking at the same time, in almost perfect unison.Rincewind pulled himself together.'O great and wonderful hat,' he said pompously, 'strike down this impudent girl who has had the audacity, nay, the-’Oh, do shut up. She stole us because we ordered her to. It was a near thing, too.'But she's a-’ Rincewind hesitated. 'She's of the female persuasion...' he muttered.So was your mother.
a voice in your head?'
'Yes!'
'It did that to me, too.'
'But it knew my name!'
Of course we 'Yes, well, but she ran away before I was born,' Rincewind mumbled.
Of all the disreputable taverns in all the city you could have walked into, you walked into his, complained the hat.
'He was the only wizard I could find,' said the girl, 'He looked the part. He do, stupid fellow. We are supposed to be a magic hat after all.The hat's voice wasn't only clothy. It also had a strange choral effect, as if an awful lot of voices were talking at the same time, in almost perfect unison.Rincewind pulled himself together.'O great and wonderful hat,' he said pompously, 'strike down this impudent girl who has had the audacity, nay, the-’Oh, do shut up. She stole us because we ordered her to. It was a near thing, too.'But she's a-’ Rincewind hesitated. 'She's of the female persuasion...' he muttered.So was your mother.
Tuesday 7 April 2009
Peter Paul Rubens Rape of the Daughters of Leucippus
Peter Paul Rubens Rape of the Daughters of LeucippusPeter Paul Rubens Garden of LoveWinslow Homer The Herring Net
minutes, hours, days, months, years, centuries and ages.
But the FLOWERS.
Druto hesitated only for a moment.
‘And the, er, destination for these -‘
A LADY.
‘And do you have any pref -‘
‘Ah? Are you sure that lilies are -?’
I LIKE LILIES.
‘Um . . . it’s just that lilies are a little bit sombre -‘ I LIKE SOMB - The figure hesitated.
WHAT DO YOU RECOMMEND?
Druto slipped smoothly into gear.’Roses are always very well received,’ he said. ‘Or orchids. Many gentlemen these days tell me that ladies find a single specimen orchid more acceptable than a bunch of roses -‘ GIVE ME LOTS.Universe hand went around once.At least, until someone wound up the clockwork.And Death returned home with a handful of Time.A shop bell jangled.Druto Pole, florist, looked over a spray of floribunda Mrs Shooer. Someone was standing among the vases of flowers. They looked slightly indistinct; in fact. even afterwards, Druto was never sure who had been in his shop and how his words had actually sounded.He oiled forward, rubbing his hands.‘How may I hel -‘
minutes, hours, days, months, years, centuries and ages.
But the FLOWERS.
Druto hesitated only for a moment.
‘And the, er, destination for these -‘
A LADY.
‘And do you have any pref -‘
‘Ah? Are you sure that lilies are -?’
I LIKE LILIES.
‘Um . . . it’s just that lilies are a little bit sombre -‘ I LIKE SOMB - The figure hesitated.
WHAT DO YOU RECOMMEND?
Druto slipped smoothly into gear.’Roses are always very well received,’ he said. ‘Or orchids. Many gentlemen these days tell me that ladies find a single specimen orchid more acceptable than a bunch of roses -‘ GIVE ME LOTS.Universe hand went around once.At least, until someone wound up the clockwork.And Death returned home with a handful of Time.A shop bell jangled.Druto Pole, florist, looked over a spray of floribunda Mrs Shooer. Someone was standing among the vases of flowers. They looked slightly indistinct; in fact. even afterwards, Druto was never sure who had been in his shop and how his words had actually sounded.He oiled forward, rubbing his hands.‘How may I hel -‘
Monday 6 April 2009
Thomas Kinkade Autumn Snow
Thomas Kinkade Autumn SnowEdward Hopper The Lighthouse at Two LightsEdward Hopper Tables for Ladies
who . . . well, suppose there was a wolf that changed into a wolfman at the full moon, and a woman that changed into a wolfwoman at the full moon . . . you know, approaching the same shape but from opposite directions? And they’d met. What do you tell them? Do you let them sort it out for themselves?’ ‘Oook, ‘ said the Librarian, instantly.
‘It’s tempting.’
‘Oook.’
‘Mrs Cakethe city . . . of a sudden, like unto a rush of creatures . . . men followed them and behold, there was a new city outside the walls, a city as of merchants’ booths wherein the carts ran” . . .’ He turned the page.
‘It seems to say . . .’
I still haven’t understood it properly, he told wouldn’t like it, though.’‘Eeek oook.’‘You’re right. You could have put it a little less coarsely, but you’re right. Everyone has to sort things out for themselves.’He sighed, and turned the page. His eyes widened.‘The city of Kahn Li,’ he said. ‘Ever heard of it? What’s this book? “Stripfettle’s Believe-It-Or-Not Grimoire.” Says here . . . “little carts . . . none knew from where they came . . . of such great use, men were employed to herd them and bring them into himself. One-Man-Bucket
thinks we’re talking
who . . . well, suppose there was a wolf that changed into a wolfman at the full moon, and a woman that changed into a wolfwoman at the full moon . . . you know, approaching the same shape but from opposite directions? And they’d met. What do you tell them? Do you let them sort it out for themselves?’ ‘Oook, ‘ said the Librarian, instantly.
‘It’s tempting.’
‘Oook.’
‘Mrs Cakethe city . . . of a sudden, like unto a rush of creatures . . . men followed them and behold, there was a new city outside the walls, a city as of merchants’ booths wherein the carts ran” . . .’ He turned the page.
‘It seems to say . . .’
I still haven’t understood it properly, he told wouldn’t like it, though.’‘Eeek oook.’‘You’re right. You could have put it a little less coarsely, but you’re right. Everyone has to sort things out for themselves.’He sighed, and turned the page. His eyes widened.‘The city of Kahn Li,’ he said. ‘Ever heard of it? What’s this book? “Stripfettle’s Believe-It-Or-Not Grimoire.” Says here . . . “little carts . . . none knew from where they came . . . of such great use, men were employed to herd them and bring them into himself. One-Man-Bucket
thinks we’re talking
Friday 3 April 2009
Joseph Mallord William Turner Rain, Steam and Speed - The Great Western Railway
Joseph Mallord William Turner Rain, Steam and Speed - The Great Western RailwayGustave Courbet MarineGustave Courbet Woman with a Parrot
then flew after the unheeding Archchancellor. The words of wizards have power. And swearwords have power. And with life force practically crystallising out of the air, it had to find outlets wherever it could.
cities. said One-Man-Bucket. I think they’re city eggs.
The senior‘Yo, Archchancellor.’
‘Oh, well. So long as you feel happy in yourself, that’s what matters.’
They crept out towards the patch of ground that had been Modo’s little
territory. At least, most of
179
wizards gathered again in the Great Hall. Even the Senior Wrangler was feeling a certain excitement. It was considered bad form to use magic against fellow wizards, and using it against civilians was unsporting. It did you good to have a really righteous zap occasionally.The Archchancellor looked them over. ‘Dean, why have you got stripes all over your face?’ he enquired.‘Camouflage, Archchancellor.’‘Camouflage, eh?’
then flew after the unheeding Archchancellor. The words of wizards have power. And swearwords have power. And with life force practically crystallising out of the air, it had to find outlets wherever it could.
cities. said One-Man-Bucket. I think they’re city eggs.
The senior‘Yo, Archchancellor.’
‘Oh, well. So long as you feel happy in yourself, that’s what matters.’
They crept out towards the patch of ground that had been Modo’s little
territory. At least, most of
179
wizards gathered again in the Great Hall. Even the Senior Wrangler was feeling a certain excitement. It was considered bad form to use magic against fellow wizards, and using it against civilians was unsporting. It did you good to have a really righteous zap occasionally.The Archchancellor looked them over. ‘Dean, why have you got stripes all over your face?’ he enquired.‘Camouflage, Archchancellor.’‘Camouflage, eh?’
Thursday 2 April 2009
Paul Klee Around the Fish
Paul Klee Around the FishPaul Klee Ancient SoundRene Magritte Homesickness
try the wizards. They ought to be tole,’ said Mrs Cake. She was quivering with self-importance, like a small enraged football. ‘Yes, but you said they never Listen,’ said Ludmilla.
‘Got to tryroom and lock yourself in and get on with some sewing like a good girl.’
l Mrs Cake was aware that some religions had priestesses. What Mrs Cake thought about the ordination of women was unprintable. The religions with priestesses in Ankh-Morpork tended to attract a large crowd of plain-clothes priests from other denominations who were looking for a few hours’ respite somewhere where they wouldn’t encounter Mrs Cake.. Byway, what are you doing out of your room?’‘Oh, mother. You know I hate that room. There’s no need -‘‘You can’t be too careful. Supposin’ you was to take it into your head to go and chase people’s chickens? What would the neighbours say?’ ‘I’ve never felt the least urge to chase a chicken, mother,’ said Ludmilla wearily.‘Or run after carts, barkin’.’‘That’s dogs, mother.’‘You just get back in your
try the wizards. They ought to be tole,’ said Mrs Cake. She was quivering with self-importance, like a small enraged football. ‘Yes, but you said they never Listen,’ said Ludmilla.
‘Got to tryroom and lock yourself in and get on with some sewing like a good girl.’
l Mrs Cake was aware that some religions had priestesses. What Mrs Cake thought about the ordination of women was unprintable. The religions with priestesses in Ankh-Morpork tended to attract a large crowd of plain-clothes priests from other denominations who were looking for a few hours’ respite somewhere where they wouldn’t encounter Mrs Cake.. Byway, what are you doing out of your room?’‘Oh, mother. You know I hate that room. There’s no need -‘‘You can’t be too careful. Supposin’ you was to take it into your head to go and chase people’s chickens? What would the neighbours say?’ ‘I’ve never felt the least urge to chase a chicken, mother,’ said Ludmilla wearily.‘Or run after carts, barkin’.’‘That’s dogs, mother.’‘You just get back in your
Wednesday 1 April 2009
Jean-Honore Fragonard le jour
Jean-Honore Fragonard le jourJean-Honore Fragonard l'auroreJean-Honore Fragonard Cephale et ProcrisEdgar Degas DancerWilliam Beard So You Wanna Get Married
move and finishing off the celery.
Who’d have thought it?
And it suddenly dawned on the late Windle Poons that there was no such
thing as somebody else’s problem, and that just when you thought the world
strangeness. He knew from experience that the living never found out half of what was really happening, because , metaphorically. The only way was up.
He reached up, felt for the card in the dark, and pulled it free. He stuck it between his teeth.
Windle Poons braced his feet against the end of the box, pushed his hands past his head, and heaved.
The soggy loam of Ankh-Morpork moved slightly.
Windle paused out of habit to take a breath, and realised that there they were too busy being the living. The onlooker sees most of the game, he told himself. It was the living who ignored the strange and wonderful, because life was too full of the boring and mundane. But it was strange. It had things in it like screws that unscrewed themselves, and little written messages to the dead. He resolved to find out what was going on. And then . . . if Death wasn’t going to come to him, he’d go to Death. He had his rights, after all. Yeah. He’d lead the biggest missing-person hunt of all time.Windle grinned in the darkness.Missing - believed Death.Today was the first day of the rest of his life.And Ankh-Morpork lay at his feet. Wellwas no point. He pushed again. The end of the coffin splintered. Windle pulled it towards him and
move and finishing off the celery.
Who’d have thought it?
And it suddenly dawned on the late Windle Poons that there was no such
thing as somebody else’s problem, and that just when you thought the world
strangeness. He knew from experience that the living never found out half of what was really happening, because , metaphorically. The only way was up.
He reached up, felt for the card in the dark, and pulled it free. He stuck it between his teeth.
Windle Poons braced his feet against the end of the box, pushed his hands past his head, and heaved.
The soggy loam of Ankh-Morpork moved slightly.
Windle paused out of habit to take a breath, and realised that there they were too busy being the living. The onlooker sees most of the game, he told himself. It was the living who ignored the strange and wonderful, because life was too full of the boring and mundane. But it was strange. It had things in it like screws that unscrewed themselves, and little written messages to the dead. He resolved to find out what was going on. And then . . . if Death wasn’t going to come to him, he’d go to Death. He had his rights, after all. Yeah. He’d lead the biggest missing-person hunt of all time.Windle grinned in the darkness.Missing - believed Death.Today was the first day of the rest of his life.And Ankh-Morpork lay at his feet. Wellwas no point. He pushed again. The end of the coffin splintered. Windle pulled it towards him and
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