Vincent van Gogh Self-Portrait with Straw

Vincent van Gogh Self-Portrait with StrawVincent van Gogh Self-Portrait with Felt Hat greyVincent van Gogh Seascape at Saintes-MariesVincent van Gogh Road with CypressesVincent van Gogh Peach Tree in Blossom
Yes. Excuse me,’ said Victor. He pushed past the astonished wizard and climbed over the seats to where Ginger was still sitting, staring at her own image. The monster Ginger was looking around and blinking very slowly, like a lizard.
‘That’s me?’
‘No!’ said Victor. ‘That is, yes. Maybe. Not really. Sort of. Come on.’
‘But it looks just like me!’ said Ginger, her voice modulated with hysteria.
‘That’s because they’re having to use Holy Wood! It . . . it defines how they can appear, I think,’ said Victor ?’ she yelled, as they stumbled through the broken seats.
‘It looks worse than you can imagine!’
‘I can imagine some pretty bad things!’
‘That’s why I said worse!’
‘Oh.’hurriedly. He tugged her out of the seat and into the air, his feet kicking up mist and scattering banged grains. She stumbled along after him, looking over her shoulder.‘There’s another one trying to come out of the screen,’ she said.‘Come on!’‘It’s you!’‘I’m me! It’s . . . something else! It’s just having to use my shape!’‘What shape does it normally use?’‘You don’t want to know!’‘Yes I do! Why do you think I asked
The giant spectral Ginger passed them, flickering like a strobe

Leroy Neiman Hand Off Superbowl III

Leroy Neiman Hand Off Superbowl IIIJean-Honore Fragonard the readerJean-Honore Fragonard the lockJean-Honore Fragonard le jourJean-Honore Fragonard l'aurore
Azhural stood on a low hill, watching the sea of elephants move below him. Here and there a supply wagon bobbed between the dusty grey bodies like a rudderless boat. A mile of veldt was being churned into a soggy mud wallow, bareof mobile smile. A handy lad with a brush and shovel, but not what you might call a major achiever.
And then suddenly someone somewhere wanted a thousand elephants, and the lad had raised his head and a gleam had come into his eye and you could see that under that grin was a skilled kilopachydermatolist ready to answer the call. Funny. You could know someone for their whole life and not realize that the gods had put them in this world to move a thousand elephants around the place. of grass - although, by the smell of it, it’d be the greenest patch on the Disc after the rains came. He dabbed at his eyes with a corner of his robe. Three hundred and sixty-three! Who’d have thought it? The air was solid with the piqued trumpeting of three hundred and sixty-three elephants. And with the hunting and trapping parties already going on ahead, there should be plenty more. According to M’Bu, anyway. And he wasn’t going to argue. Funny, that. For years he’d thought of M’Bu as a sort

Franz Marc Blaues Pferdchen

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hundred miles that way. Maybe less, even. Yeah. We could really do it.’
‘Yes, boss.’
‘Y’know, I’ve always wanted to do something big with my life. Something real,’ said Azhural. ‘I mean, an ostrich here, a giraffe there . . . it’s not the sort of thing you get remembered for . . . ‘ He stared at the purple-‘A thousand elephants,’ he muttered. ‘D’you know, boy, when they built the Tomb of King Leonid of Ephebe they used a hundred elephants to cart the stone? And two hundred elephants, history tells us, were employed in the building of the palace of the Rhoxie in Klatch city.’
Thunder rumbled in the distance. grey horizon. ‘We could do it, couldn’t we?’ he said. ‘Sure, boss.’ ‘Right over the mountains!’ ‘Sure, boss.’ If you looked really hard, you could just see that the purple-grey was topped with white. ‘They’re pretty high mountains,’ said Azhural, his voice now edged with doubt. ‘Slope go up, slope go down,’ said M’Bu gnomically. ‘That’s true,’ said Azhural. ‘Like, on average, it’s flat all the way.’ He gazed at the mountains again.

Camille Pissarro Boulevard Montmarte

Camille Pissarro Boulevard MontmarteClaude Lorrain The Rest on the Flight into EgyptPeter Paul Rubens Virgin and ChildPeter Paul Rubens Rape of the Daughters of LeucippusPeter Paul Rubens Garden of Love
imps? Any good with your hands at all?’
‘No,’ Victor admitted.
‘Can you sing?’
‘A bit. . ‘Can’t sing. Can’t dance. Can handle a sword a little.’
‘But I have saved your life twice,’ said Victor.
‘Twice?’ snapped Silverfish.
‘Yes,’ said Victor. He took a deep breath. This was going to be risky. ‘Then,’ he said, ‘and now.’
There was a long pause. In the bath. But not very well,’ Victor conceded. ‘Can you dance?’ ‘No.’ ‘Swords? Do you know how to handle a sword?’ ‘A little,’ said Victor. He’d used one sometimes in the gym. He’d never in fact fought an opponent, since wizards generally abhor exercise and the only other University resident who ever entered the place was the Librarian, and then only to use the ropes and rings. But Victor had practised an energetic and idiosyncratic technique in front of the mirror, and the mirror had never beaten him yet. ‘I see,’ said Silverfish gloomily

Frederic Edwin Church Twilight in the Wilderness

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other high priests were faring no better. Rituals hallowed by time had filled the air in the palace with sweet blue smoke and cooked enough assorted livestock to feed a famine, but the gods were settling in the Old Kingdom as if they owned it, and the people therein were no more than insects.
And the would people listen to?
While he fought to think clearly his hands went through the motions of the Ritual of the Seventh Hour, guided by neural instructions as rigid and unchangeable as crystals.
'You have tried everything?' he said.
'Everything that you advised, O Dios,' said Koomi. He waitedcrowds were still outside. Religion had ruled in the Old Kingdom for the best part of seven thousand years. Behind the eyes of every priest present was a graphic image of what would happen if the people ever thought, for one moment, that it ruled no more. 'And so, Dios,' said Koomi, 'we turn to you. What would you have us do now?' Dios sat on the steps of the throne and stared gloomily at the floor. The gods didn't listen. He knew that. He knew that, of all people. But it had never mattered before. You just went through the motions and came up with an answer. It was the ritual that was important, not the gods. The gods were there to do the duties of a megaphone, because who else

Andy Warhol Banana

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'Oh,' said Chidder. 'Gosh, I'm sorry.'
'Oh, no. It's not like that. It's what he would have wanted. I think he was rather looking forward to it. In our family, death is when you really start to, you know, enjoy life. I expect he's rather enjoying it.'

In fact the pharaoh was sitting on a spare slab in the ceremonial preparation room watching his own soft bits being ,' said Dil wearily. 'And while we're on the subject I didn't think much of the Gottle of Geer routine, either.'
'Sorry, master.'
'And pass me over a number three brain hook while you're up that end, will you?'
'Coming right up, master,' said Gern.
'And don't jog me. This is a fiddly bit.'
'Sure thing.'carefully removed from his body and put into the special Canopic jars. This is not a sight often seen by people - at least, not by people in a position to take a thoughtful interest. He was rather upset. Although he was no longer officially inhabiting his body he was still attached to it by some sort of occult bond, and it is hard to be very happy at seeing two artisans up to the elbows in bits of you. The jokes aren't funny, either. Not when you are, as it were, the butt. 'Look, master Dil,' said Gern, a plump, red-faced young man who the king had learned was the new apprentice. uk... hght... watch this, watch this.. . hgk.. your name in lights. Get it? Your name in lights, see?' 'Just put them in the jar, boy

Salvador Dali Corpus Hypercubus

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'And you let everyone believe that—'
Granny Weatherwax pulled her shawl around her.
'We're bound to be truthful,' she said. 'But there's no call to be honest.'
'No, no, what you're saying is that the King of Lancre isn't really—'
'What I'm saying is,' said Granny firmly, 'that we've got a king who is no worse than most and better than many and who's got his head screwed on right—'
'Even if it is against the thread,' said Nanny.
'—and the old king's ghost has been laid to rest happy, there's been an enjoyable coronation and some of us got mugs we weren't entitled to, them being only for the kiddies and, all in all, things are a lot more satisfactory than they might be. That's what I'm saying. Never mind what should be or what might be or what ought to be. It's what you, I really am,' she said. 'You're witches. That means you have to care about things like truth and tradition and destiny, don't you?'
'That's where you've been getting it all wrong,' said Granny, 'Destiny is important, things are that's important.''But he's not really a king!''He might be,' said Nanny.'But you just said—''Who knows? The late queen wasn't very good at counting. Anyway, he doesn't know he isn't royalty.''And you're not going to tell him, are you?' said Granny Weatherwax.Magrat stared at the moon, which had a few clouds across it.'No,' she said.'Right, then,' said Granny. 'Anyway, look at it like this. Royalty has to start somewhere. It might as well start with him. It looks as though he means to take it seriously, which is a lot further than most of them take it. He'll do.'Magrat knew she had lost. You always lost against Granny Weatherwax, the only interest was in seeing exactly how. 'But I'm surprised at the two of

Caravaggio The Crowning with Thorns

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'Cowboys,' agreed a nephew.
'How much did you steal?' said Tomjon.
Boggis opened the clown's purse, which was stuck in his belt. Then he went pale.
'Oh, bleeding hell,' he said, The Nephews clustered around.
'We're for it, sort of thing.'
'Second time this year, uncle.'
Boggis glared at the victim.
'Well, how was I to know? I wasn't to know, was I? I mean, look at him, how much would you expect him to have on him? Couple of coppers, right? I mean, we'd never have done for him, only it was on our way home. You try and do someone a favour, this is what happens.'
'How much has he got, then?' said Tomjon.
'There must be a hundred silver dollars in here,' moaned Boggis, waving a purse. 'I mean, that's not my league. That's not it.'my class. I can't handle that sort of money. You've got to be in the Guild of Lawyers or something to steal that much. It's way over my quota, is that.''Give it back then,' said Tomjon.'But I done him a receipt!''They've all got, you know, numbers on,' explained the younger of the nephews. 'The Guild checks up, sort of . . .'Hwel grabbed Tomjon's hand.'Will you excuse us a moment?' he said to the frantic thief, and dragged Tomjon to the other side of the alley.'Okay,' he said. 'Who's gone mad? Them? Me? You?'Tomjon explained.'It's legal?''Up to a certain point. Fascinating, isn't it? Man in a pub told me about it, sort of thing.''But he's stolen too much?''So it appears. I gather the Guild is very strict about
There was a groan from the victim hanging between them. He tinkled gently.
'Look after him,' said Tomjon. 'I'll sort this out.'

Alexandre Cabanel Ophelia

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'Wherever it is, I hope that they know how to school a man in the arts of war,' said Verence. 'I know Felmet. In ten years he'll be dug in here like a toad in a stone.'
The king looked from witch to witch. 'What kind of kingdom will he have to come back to? I hear what the kingdom is becoming, even now. Will you watch it change, over the years, become shoddy and mean?' The king's ghost faded.
His voice hung in the air, faint as a breeze.
'Remember, good sisters,' he said, 'the land and the king are one.'
And he A cart came bouncing and rumbling along the track from Lancre. Granny ignored it.
'—give these things careful consideration.'vanished.The embarrassed silence was broken by Magrat blowing her nose.'One what?' said Nanny Ogg.'We've got to do something,' said Magrat, her voice choked with emotion. 'Rules or no rules!''It's very vexing,' said Granny, quietly.'Yes, but what are you going to do?' she said.'Reflect on things,' said Granny. 'Think about it all.''You've been thinking about it for a year,' Magrat said.'One what? Are one what?' said Nanny Ogg.'It's no good just reacting,' said Granny. 'You've got to—'

Franz Marc Turm der blauen Pferde

Franz Marc Turm der blauen PferdeFranz Marc Der TraumFranz Marc Blaues PferdchenMarc Chagall The Fall of IcarusMarc Chagall The Birthday
important,' said Granny loudly. 'You've got to think headology, see? Not muck about with all this beauty and. wealth business. That's not important.'
She turned back to the ball and gestured half-heartedly. 'You'd better go and get Nanny, then, seeing as there should be three of us.'
Nanny was helped in, eventually, and had to have things explained to her.
'Three eventually. 'Wouldn't it be rather uncomfortable?'
'He'll thank us when he grows up, you mark my words,' said Nanny. 'My first husband, he always said—'
'Something a bit less physical is generally the style of things,' interrupted Granny, glaring at Nanny Ogg. 'There's no need to go and spoil everything, Gytha. Why do you always have to—'
'Well, at least I can say that I—' Nanny began.gifts, eh?' she said. 'Haven't done one of them things since I was a gel, it takes me back – what're you doing?'Magrat was bustling around the room, lighting candles.'Oh, we've got to create the right magical ambience,' she explained. Granny shrugged, but said nothing, even in the face of the extreme provocation. All witches did their magic in their own way, and this was Magrat's house.'What're we going to give him, then?' said Nanny.'We was just discussing it,' said Granny.'I know what he'll want,' said Nanny. She made a suggestion, which was received in frozen silence.'I don't see what use that would be,' said Magrat,

John William Waterhouse The Sorceress

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you trying to say it might reach us at the same time as the ceremony?'
'Um. More sort of, um, before it,' said Cutwell wretchedly. There was no sound but the drumming of Keli's fingers on the edge of the table. Cutwell wondered if she was going to break down, or smash the mirror. Instead she said:in the long run.'
She reached out and patted his hand.
'Poor old Cutwell,' she said.
'I am only twenty, ma'am.'
She stood up and walked over to her dressing room. One of the things you learn when you're a princess is always to be older than anyone of inferior rank. 'How do you know?'He wondered if he could get away with saying something like, I'm a wizard, we know these things, but decided against it. The last time he'd said that she'd threatened him with the axe.'I asked one of the guards about that inn Mort talked about,' he said. Then I worked out the approximate distance it had to travel. Mort said it was moving at a slow walking pace, and I reckon his stride is about —''As simple as that? You didn't use magic?''Only common sense. It's a lot more reliable

Claude Monet Camille Monet in the Garden

Claude Monet Camille Monet in the GardenClaude Monet Blue Water LiliesClaude Monet Banks of the Seine
for, then?
He glanced up at the cliff of shelves above him, and his stomach went cold when he thought of what was starting toIt showed it in little ways. The courtiers who gave her furtive odd looks during the morning would not have been able to say why the sight of her made them feel strangely uncomfortable. To their acute embarrassment and her annoyance they found themselves ignoring her, or talking in hushed voices.
The Chamberlain found he'd instructed that the royal standard becouldn't explain why. He was gently led off to his bed with a mild nervous affliction after ordering a thousand yards of black bunting for no apparent reason. happen. . . .There was nothing for it. He'd have to tell someone. Keli, meanwhile, was This was because causality had an incredible amount of inertia. Mort's misplaced thrust, driven by anger and desperation and nascent love, had sent it down a new track but it hadn't noticed yet. He'd kicked the tail of the dinosaur, but it would be some time before the other end realised it was time to say 'ouch'.Bluntly, the universe knew Keli was dead and was therefore rather surprised to find that she hadn't stopped walking and breathing yet.

Diego Rivera Nude with Calla Lilies

Diego Rivera Nude with Calla LiliesGustav Klimt The Tree of LifeGustav Klimt Expectation (gold foil)
inside his robe and produced an hourglass in which black sand coursed between a spiked iron latticework. He gave it an experimental shake. AND DUE TO LIVE ANOTHER THIRTY, THIRTY-FIVE YEARS, he said, with a sigh.
'And he goes QUESTIONS AFTERWARDS.
'Wait,' said Mort, wretchedly. 'It's not fair. Can't you stop it?'
FAIR? said Death. WHO SAID ANYTHING ABOUT FAIR?around killing people?' said Mort. He shook his head. There's no justice.'Death sighed. No, he said, handing his drink to a page who was surprised to find he was suddenly holding an empty glass, THERE'S JUST ME.He drew his sword, which had the same ice blue, shadow-thin blade as the scythe of office, and stepped forward.'I thought you used the scythe,' whispered Mort.KINGS GET THE SWORD, said Death. IT'S A ROYAL WHATSNAME, PREROGATIVE.His free hand thrust its bony digits beneath his robe again and brought out King Olerve's glass. In the top half the last few grains of sand were huddling together.PAY CAREFUL ATTENTION, said Death, YOU MAY BE ASKED

Gustav Klimt The Three Ages of Woman

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Jiggle, swirl. Jiggle, swirl, giggle. There were already hairline cracks in the glass.
Esk looked at Simon's blank eyes and then up into the hungry faces of the nearest Things, and then she reached across and pulled the pyramid out of his hands and turned and ran.
The Things at the seaside.
Esk held the Disc-pyramid and flailed with her free hand at the claw around her. It had no effect. The darkness loomed over her, a gateway to total oblivion.
She kicked it as hard as she could.didn't stir as she scurried towards them, bent almost double, with the pyramid clasped tightly to her chest. But suddenly her feet were no longer running over the sand and she was being lifted into the frigid air, and a Thing with a face like a drowned rabbit turned slowly towards her and extended a talon. You're not really here, Esk told herself. It's only a sort of dream, what Granny calls an annaloggy. You can't really be hurt, it's all imagination. There's absolutely no harm that can come to you, it's all really inside your mind. I wonder if it knows that? The talon picked her out of the air and the rabbit face split like a banana skin. There was no mouth, just a dark hole, as if the Thing was itself an opening to an even worse dimension, a place by comparison with which freezing sand and moonless moonlight would be a jolly afternoon

Edgar Degas After the Bath

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The town was smaller than Ohulan, and very different because it lay on the junction of three trade routes quite apart from the river itself. It was built around one enormous square which was a cross between a permanent exotic traffic considerable effort. Rolling heavy rocks to the top of cliffs for a decent ambush, cutting down trees to block the road, and digging a pit lined with spikes while still keeping a wicked edge on a dagger probably involved a much greater expenditure of thought and muscle than more socially-acceptable professions but, nevertheless, there were still people misguided enough to endure all this, plus long nights in uncomfortable surroundings, merely to get their hajam and a tent village. Camels kicked mules, mules kicked horses, horses kicked camels and they all kicked humans; there was a riot of colours, a din of noise, a nasal orchestration of smells and the steady, heady sound of hundreds of people working hard at making money. One reason for the bustle was that over large parts of the continent other people preferred to make money without working at all, and since the Disc had yet to developindustry they were forced to fall back on older, more traditional forms of banditry. Strangely enough these often involved nds on perfectly ordinary large boxes of jewels.

Thomas Kinkade venice

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wild peaches were ripe, anyway.
The where a blizzard could lose a man within yards been saved by the pattern of notches found by probing fingers under the clinging snow.
It was snowing again when they left the road and started up the track where, in summer, the witch's house nestled in a riot of raspberry thickets and weird witch-growth.
"No footprints," said Cern.
"Except for foxes," said Gulta. "They say she can turn herself into a fox. Or anything. A bird, even. Anything. That's how she always knows what's going on."people of Bad Ass had learned to live with the long winter snows and the roads out of the village were lined with boards to reduce drifting and, more important, stop travellers from straying. If they lived locally it wouldn't matter too much if they did, because an unsung genius on the village council several generations previously had come up with the idea of carving markers in every tenth tree in the forest around the village, out to a distance of nearly two miles. It had taken ages, and re-cutting markers was always a job for any man with spare time, but in winters

Daniel Ridgway Knight Shepherdess and her Flock

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went on and on, a quiet, clear voice that used words like 'cleanse' and 'scouring' and 'purify' and drilled into the brain like a hot sword. Where were the wizards? Where was magic? Had it ever really worked, or had it all been a dream?
Rincewind began to be really afraid that the gods might get to hear about this and be so angry that they'd take it out on anyone who happened to have been around at the time.
But somehow even the wrath of the gods would have been better than the sound of that voice. The star was coming, it seemed to say, and its fearful fire could only be averted by – by – Rincewind couldn't be certain, but he had visions of swords and banners and blank-eyed warriors. The voice didn't believe in gods, which in Rincewind's book was fair enough, but it didn't believe in people either.
A tall hooded stranger on Rincewind's left jostled him. He turned – and looked up into a grinning skuli nder a black hood.
WARRIOR OR THE OLD MAN OR THE LITTLE CHILD, THIS I UNDERSTAND, AND I TAKE AWAY THE PAIN AND END THE SUFFERING. I DO NOT UNDERSTAND THIS DEATH-OF-THE-MIND.
'Who are you talking to?' said Twoflower. Several members of the congrWizards, like cats, can see Death.Compared to the sound of that voice, Death seemed almost pleasant. He leaned against a wall, his scythe propped up beside him. He nodded at Rincewind.'Come to gloat?' whispered Rincewind. Death shrugged.I HAVE COME TO SEE THE FUTURE, he said.'This is the future?'A FUTURE, said Death.'It's horrible,' said Rincewind.I'M INCLINED TO AGREE, said Death.'I would have thought you'd be all for it I'NOT LIKE THIS. THE DEATH OF THE

George Bellows Polo Crowd

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got to, 'is?' he concluded.
'What?'
'Don't give it to a man flying a thousand ton rock.'

'Has it gone?'
Trymon peered cautiously over the battlements of the Tower of Art, the great spire of crumbling masonry that loomed over Unseen University. The cluster of students nd instructors of magic, far below, nodded.
'Are It – it swallowed the Dean of Liberal Studies, sir,' he shouted.
Trymon brightened. 'It's an ill wind,' he murmured. He started down the long spiral staircase. After a while he smiled, a thin, tight smile. The day was definitely improving.you sure?'The bursar cupped his hands and shouted.'It broke down the hubward door and escaped an hour ago, sir,' he yelled.'Wrong,' said Trymon. 'It left, we escaped. Well, I'll be getting down, then. Did it get anyone?'The bursar swallowed. He was not a wizard, but a kind, good-natured man who should not have had to see the things he had witnessed in the past hour. Of course, it wasn't unknown for small demons, coloured lights and various half-materialised imaginings to wander around the campus, but there had been something about the implacable onslaught of the Luggage that had unnerved him. Trying to stop it would have been like trying to wrestle a glacier.

Unknown Artist The SunFlowers

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Death shrugged, a particularly expressive gesture for someone whose visible shape was that of a skeleton.
I DID INDEED CHASE THEM MIGHTILY. ONCE, he said, BUT AT LAST THE THOUGHT CAME TO ME THAT SOONER OR . He stood up and levelled the scythe at the fat and noisome candle that burned on the edge of the bench and then, with two deft sweeps, cut the flame into three bright slivers. Death grinned.
A short while later he was saddling his white stallion, which lived in a stable at the back of Death's cottage. The beast snuffled at him in a friendly fashion; though it was crimson-eyed and had flanks like oiled silk, it was nevertheless a real flesh-and-blood horse and, indeed, was in all probability better treated than most beasts of burden LATER ALL MEN MUST DIE. EVERYTHING DIES IN THE END. I CAN BE ROBBED BUT NEVER DENIED, I TOLD MYSELF. WHY WORRY?"I too cannot be cheated," snapped Fate.SO I HAVE HEARD, said Death, still grinning."Enough!" shouted Fate, jumping to his feet. "They will die!" He vanished in a sheet of blue fire.Death nodded to Himself and continued at His work. After some minutes the edge of the blade seemed to be finished to His satisfaction

Cao Yong Day of Love

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get you and this mountain?" he said at last.
"Yes." She looked him squarely in the eye, and her lips twitched. "The fee is worthwhile, I assure you."
Hrun dropped his gaze to the rings on her hand The stones were large, being the incredibly rare blue milk diamonds from the clay basins of Mithos. When he managed to turn his eyes from them he saw Liessa glaring down at "Well?" she said.
"Well what?" said Hrun, from the carnage
"Do you intend to kill me?"him in fury."So calculating?" she rasped. "Hrun the Barbarian who would boldly walk into the jaws of Death Himself?"Hrun shrugged. "Sure," he said, "the only reason for walking into the jaws of Death is so's you can steal His gold teeth." He brought one arm around expansively, and the wooden bunk was at the end of it. It cannoned into the bowmen and Hrun followed it joyously, felling one man with a blow and snatching the weapon from another. A moment later it was all over.Liessa had not moved.