Amedeo Modigliani Nude Sdraiato

Amedeo Modigliani Nude SdraiatoAmedeo Modigliani Caryatid 1Alphonse Maria Mucha WinterAlphonse Maria Mucha Morning Star
then accelerated. White smoke poured off it as it bore down on an innocent cluster of red balls.
Silverfish shook his head.
'Unstable,' he said. 'Everybody down!'
Everyone in the bout of coughing. Silverfish appeared through the oily smoke and, with a shaking hand, moved the score point one notch with the burning end of his cue.
'One,' he said. 'Oh well. Back to the crucible. Someone order another billiard table—'
' 'Scuse me,' said Cuddy, prodding him in the knee.
'Who's there?'
'Down here!'
Silverfish looked down.
'Oh. Are you a dwarf?'room ducked, except for the two Watchmen, one of whom was in a sense pre-ducked and the other of whom was several minutes behind events.The black ball took off on a column of flame, whiffled past Detritus' face trailing black smoke and then shattered a window. The green ball was staying in one spot but spinning furiously. The other balls cannoned back and forth, occasionally bursting into flame or caroming off the walls.A red one hit Detritus between the eyes, curved back on to the table, holed itself in the middle pocket and then blew up.There was silence, except for the occasional

Rodney White Nothing to Dream

Rodney White Nothing to DreamSung Kim PointSung Kim Paradise
would normally have added up to 'stupid' in any case and would have given him the survival quotient of a jellyfish in a blast furnace, but there were a couple of other factors. One was a punch that even trolls had learned to respect. The other was that Carrot was genuinely, almost supernaturally, likeable. He got on well with people, even while arresting them. He had an exceptional memory for names.
For most of his young life he'd lived in a small dwarf colony where there were hardly any other people to know. Then, suddenly, he was in a huge city, and it was as if a talent had been waiting to unfold. And was still unfolding.
He waved cheerfully at '—you ambush us too! my great-great-grandfather he at Koom Valley, he the approaching dwarfs.' 'Morning Mr Cumblethigh! 'Morning, Mr Strong-inthearm!'Then he turned and waved at the leading troll. There was a muffled 'pop' as a firework went off.' 'Morning, Mr Bauxite!'He cupped his hands.'If you could all just stop and listen to me—' he bellowed.The two marches did stop, with some hesitation and a general piling up of the people in the back. It was that or walk over Carrot.If Carrot did have a minor fault, it lay in not paying attention to small details around him when his mind was on other things. So the whispered conversation behind his back was currently escaping him.'—hah! It was too an ambush! And your mother was an ore—''Now then, gentlemen,' said Carrot, in a reasoned and amiable voice, 'I'm sure there's no need for this belligerent manner—'

Mary Cassatt Children Playing On The Beach

Mary Cassatt Children Playing On The BeachMary Cassatt Young Mother SewingEdward Hopper People In The SunFrederic Edwin Church The Icebergs
dawned on Verence that he was being addressed by fresh air. He looked down.
“I’m sorry,” he said, “you are—?”
“My card,” said Casanunda.
Verence read it. in the
woods. But the Entertainment—“
“There was elves in it,” said Tinker the tinker.
“That’s why it all got buggered up,” said Thatcher the
carter. “There was a lot of shouting, too.”
“There was someone with horns on,” said Carter, “and a
great big—“
“It was all,” said Jason, “a bit of a dream.”
“Hey, look over there, Carter,” said Weaver, winking at
the others, “there’s that monkey. You’ve got something to
ask it, ain’t you?”His eyebrows rose.“Ah,” he said. “Uh. Urn. Well, well, well. Number two, eh?”“I try harder,” said Casanunda.Verence looked around guiltily, and then bent down until his mouth was level with the dwarfs ear.“Could I have a word with you in a minute or two?”300The Lancre Morris Men got together again for the first time at the reception. They found it hard to talk to one another.Several of them jigged up and down absentmindedly as theytalked.“All right,” said Jason, “anyone remember? Reallyremember?”“I remember the start,” said Tailor the other weaver.“Definitely remember the start. And the dancing
Carter blinked. “Coo, yes,” he said.

Mark Spain Carmen

Mark Spain CarmenMark Spain Burning DesireMark Spain Blue Dress On Gold
beg for mercy,” it said.
“Good,” said Magrat, and fired.
That left one elf rolling in circles on the flagstones, clutching at its knee.
Magrat stepped daintily over the body of another elf, vanished into the armory for a moment, and came back with an axe.
The elf stopped moving, and focused all its attention on her.
226
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“Now,” said Magrat, conversationally, “I’m not going to lie to you about your chances, because you haven’t got any. I’m going to ask you some questions. But first of all, I’m going to get your attention.”
The elf was expecting it, and managed to roll aside as the axe splintered the stones.
“Miss?” said Shawn “It is like being buried in the earth,” hissed the elf. “No eyes, no ears, no mouth!”
“Chain-mail, then,” said Magrat.weakly, as Magrat raised the axe again.“Yes?”“Mum says they don’t feel pain, miss.”“No? But they can certainly be put to inconvenience.”Magrat lowered the axe.“Of course, there’s armor,” she said. “We could put this one in a suit of armor. How about it?”“No!”The elf tried to pull away across the floor.“Why not?” said Magrat. “Better than axes, yes?”“No!”“Why not?”
“No!”
“Where is the king? Where is everyone?”

Paul Cezanne The Railway Cutting

Paul Cezanne The Railway CuttingPaul Cezanne The Hanged Man's HousePaul Cezanne Table Corner
says all the gentry—“
A tang on the wind, the sharp tin taste of snow ...
“—in Ankh-Morpork laughed at it for weeks and weeks,” he said. “It was on Broad Way for three months.”
“What’s armpit in a cow’s backside on a snowy night. Hah!”
“And there ain’t one of ‘em that—what’re you talking about? You ain’t got a cow.”
“No, but I know what it’s like.”
“They don’t know what it’s like to get one wellie sucked off in a farmyard full of gyppoe and that horrible moment where you waves the foot around knowin’ that wherever you puts it down it’s going to go through the crust.”
The stoneware jug glugged gently as it was passed from hand to unsteady hand.Broad Way?”“That’s where all the theaters are. The Dysk, Lord Wynkin’s Men, the Bearpit...”“They’d laugh at any damn thing down there,” said Weaver. “Anyway, they all think we’m all simpletons up here. They all think we say oo-aah and sings daft folk songs and has three brain cells huddlin’ together for warmth ‘cos of drinking scumble all the time.”“Yeah. Pass that jug.”“Swish city bastards.”“They don’t know what it’s like to be up to the

Juan Gris Teacups

Juan Gris TeacupsJuan Gris Portrait of Josette GrisJuan Gris Pears and Grapes on a TableJuan Gris Guitar with Clarinet
Keeping busy up there, are you?” she said.
“One’s doing very well, thank you,” said Magrat, with what she hoped was queenly hauteur.
“Which one?” said Nanny.
“Which one what?”
“Which one’s doing very well?”
“Me!”
“You should have said,” said Nanny, her face poker straight. “So long as you’re keeping busy, that’s the impor-tant thing.”
“He knew we were coming back,” said Magrat firmly.
“He’d even got the invitations sorted out. Oh, by the way . ..
there’s one for.”
“Invitation to what?” said Magrat. She was getting fed
up with ones.
“Didn’t Verence tell one?” said Nanny. “It’s a special
play that’s been written special for you.” you—““I know, one got it this morning,” said Nanny. “Got all that fancy nibbling on the edges and gold and everything. Who’s Ruservup?”82LORDS ftffO ift0f£6Magrat had long ago got a handle on Nanny Ogg’sworld-view.“RSVP,” she said. “It means you ought to say if you’recoming.”“Oh, one’ll be along all right, catch one staying away,” said Nanny. “Has one’s Jason sent one his invite yet? Thought not. Not a skilled man with a pen, our Jason
“Oh, yes,” said Magrat. “The Entertainment.”

Rembrandt The Holy Family with Angels

Rembrandt The Holy Family with AngelsRembrandt Hendrickje Bathing in a RiverRembrandt The Polish Rider
Think logically, will you?" he said. "You're a phi­losopher, aren't you? Look at the crowd!"
Urn looked at the crowd.
"Well?"
"They don't like it,." -cloth on, out of respectability. You had to laugh. Otherwise you'd go mad.
"You know," he said, turning to Simony. "Now I know Vorbis is evil. He burned my city. Well, the Tsorteans do it sometimes, and we burn theirs. It's just war. It's all part of history. And he lies and cheats and claws power for himself, and lots of people do that, too. But do you know what's special? Do you know what it is?"
"Of course," said Simony. "It's what he's doing to-”
"It's what he's done to you."Simon turned. "Look, Brutha's going to die anyway. But this way it'll mean something. People don't understand, really under­stand, about the shape of the universe and all that stuff, but they'll remember what Vorbis did to a man. Right? We can make Brutha's death a symbol for peo­ple, don't you see?"Urn stared at the distant figure of Brutha. It was naked, except for a loin-cloth."A symbol?" he said. His throat was dry."It has to be."He remembered Didactylos saying the world was a funny place. And, he thought distantly, it really was. Here people were about to roast someone to death, but they'd left his loin

Pierre Auguste Renoir After The Bath

Pierre Auguste Renoir After The BathPierre Auguste Renoir After The Bath 1888Thomas Kinkade The old fishing hole
"Well, well, well," said St. Ungulant. "We don't get very many visitors up here. Isn't that so, Angus?"
He addressed the air beside him.
Brutha was trying to keep his balance, because the cartwheel rocked dangerously every time he moved. They'd left Vorbis seated on holy contemplation and dirt. Many of them liked to make life even more uncomfortable for themselves by being walled up in cells or living, quite appropriately, at the top of a pole. The Omnian Church encouraged them, on the basis that it was best to get madmen as far away as possible where they couldn't cause any trouble and could be cared for by the community, insofar as the community consisted of lions and buzzards and dirt.
"I was thinking of adding another wheel," said St. Ungulant, "just over there. To the desert twenty feet below, hugging his knees and staring at nothing.The wheel had been nailed flat on top of a slim pole. It was just wide enough for one person to lie uncomfortably. But St. Ungulant looked designed to lie uncomfortably. He was so thin that even skeletons would say, "Isn't he thin?" He was wearing some sort of minimalist loin-cloth, insofar as it was possible to tell under the beard and hair.It had been quite hard to ignore St. Ungulant, who had been capering up and down at the top of his pole shouting "Coo-ee!" and "Over here!" There was a slightly smaller pole a few feet away, with an old-fashioned half-moon-cut­out-on-the-door privy on it. Just because you were an anchorite, St. Ungulant said, didn't mean you had to give up everything.Brutha had heard of anchorites, who were a kind of one­way prophet. They went out into the desert but did not come back, preferring a hermit's life of dirt and hardship and dirt and catch the morning sun, you know."

George Stubbs Horse Attacked by a Lion

George Stubbs Horse Attacked by a LionSalvador Dali The Land of Milk and HoneyCaravaggio Sick BacchusUnknown Artist Wave RiderJohannes Vermeer Young Woman with a Water Jug
want me for? I'll try and bring you some more food after supper."
"How are you feeling?" said the tortoise.
"I'm feeling all right, thank you."
"Eating properly, that sort of thing?"
"Yes, thank you."
"posturings of power-mad emperors look subservient.
"Um," said Brutha, and tried to pull the door shut again.
Vorbis waved one hand irritably. Then he stood up. He did not dust off his robe.
"Do you know, Brutha," he said, "I do not think there is a single person in the Citadel who would dare to interrupt me at prayer? They would fear the Quisition. Everyone fears the Quisition. Except you, it appears. Do you fear the Quisition?"Pleased to hear it. Run along now. I mean, I'm only your God. " Om raised its voice as Brutha hurried off. "And you might visit more often!"And pray louder, I'm fed up with straining!" he shouted. Vorbis was still sitting in his cabin when Brutha puffed along the passage and knocked on the door. There was no reply. After a while, Brutha pushed the door open.Vorbis did not appear to read. Obviously he wrote, because of the famous Letters, but no one ever saw him do it. When he was alone he spent a lot of time staring at the wall, or prostrate in prayer. Vorbis could humble himself in prayer in a way that made the

John Constable Salisbury Cathedral

John Constable Salisbury CathedralJohn Constable Salisbury Cathedral from the MeadowsJohn Constable Hadleigh Castle
already had a lot of practice.
"You know I traveled a lot when I was much younger?" he said.
"I have often heard you talk most interestingly of your travels in heathen lands," said Drunah politely. "Often bells are to fish. On strange planks of wood. And when they wish to return to shore, they wait for a wave, and then . . . they stand up, on the wave, and it carries them all the way to the beach."
"I like the story about the young swimming women best," said Drunah.
"Sometimes there are very big waves," said Fri'it,
ignoring him. "Nothing would stop them. But if you ride them, you do not drown. This is something I learned."
Drunah caught the glint in his eye.mentioned.""Did I ever tell you about the Brown Islands?""Out beyond the end of the world," said Drunah. "I remember. Where bread grows on trees and young women find little white balls in oysters. They dive for them, you said, while wearing not a stitc-”"Something else I remember," said Fri'it. It was a lonely memory, out here with nothing but scrubland under a purple sky. "The sea is strong there. There are big waves, much bigger than the ones in the Circle Sea, you understand, and the men paddle out beyond them

Thomas Kinkade Boston

Thomas Kinkade BostonEdward Hopper Soir BleuEdward Hopper Cape Cod Morning
. Lots.'
'Lots?' whispered Creosote. Most of his concubines only knew the same old one or two.
'Hundreds. Why, do you want to hear one?'
'What, now?'
'If you like. It's not very busy in here.'
Perhaps I did
The Patrician sat by his window, writing. His mind was full of fluff as far as the last week or two was concerned, and he didn't like that much.
A servant had lit a lamp to dispel the twilight, and a few early evening moths were orbiting it. The Patrician watched them carefully. For some reason he felt very uneasy in thdie, Creosote thought. Perhaps this is Paradise. He took her hands. 'You know,' he said, 'it's ages since I've had a good narrative. But I wouldn't want you to do anything you don't want to.'She patted his arm. What a nice old gentleman, she thought. Compared to some we get in here.'There's one my granny used to tell me. I know it backwards,' she said.Creosote sipped his beer and watched the wall in a warm glow. Hundreds, he thought. And she knows some of them backwards.She cleared her throat, and said, in a sing-song voice that made Creosote's pulse fuse. 'There was a man and he had eight sons-’

Edvard Munch The Girls on the Bridge

Edvard Munch The Girls on the BridgeMartin Johnson Heade Rio de Janeiro BayUnknown Artist Brent Lynch Coastal Drive
surprise it wasn't accompanied by sudden death from crushing. There was another silicon creak, and the hole grew. The stones were falling out, and they were falling up.
'I think,' he said, 'that the carpet might be worth a try at this point.'
The wall beside him shook itself like a dog and drifted apart, its masonry giving Rincewind several severe blows as it soared away.
The four of them landed on the blue and gold carpet in a storm of flying rock.
'We've got to get out of here,' said Nijel, keeping up his reputation for acute observation.
'Hang on,' 'Or it could be, say, sensitive to one particular voice-’
'Shut. Up.'
'You tried up,' said Nijel. 'Try ascend.'
'Or soar,' said Creosote. Several tons of flagstone swooped past an inch from his head.
'If it was going to answer to them it would said Rincewind. 'I'll say-’'You won't,' snapped Conina, kneeling beside him. 'I'll say. I don't trust you.''But you've-’'Shut up,' said Conina. She patted the carpet.'Carpet - rise,' she commanded.There was a pause.,Up.,'Perhaps it doesn't understand the language,' said Nijel.'Lift. Levitate. Fly.'

John Collier A Devonshire Orchard

John Collier A Devonshire OrchardCao Yong Red UmbrellaCao Yong GARDEN BEAUTIES
stopped, scissors drawn, and stared out to sea.
'Is there a kind of sailor that uses a canoe with sort of extra bits on the side and a sort of red eye painted on the front and a small looked up at the man on watch, who shook his head.
'Come on,' he chuckled, with all the humour of a blocked drain. 'You can't really see anything out there. Can you?'
'Ten men in each canoe,' said Conina grimly.
'Look, a joke's a joke-’
'With long curvy swords.'
'Well, I can't see a-’sail?' she said.'I've heard of Klatchian slave pirates,' said Rincewind, 'but this is a big boat. I shouldn't think one of them would dare attack it.''One of them wouldn't,' said Conina, still staring at the fuzzy area where the sea became the sky, 'but these five might.'Rincewind peered at the distant haze, and then

Leonardo da Vinci Portrait of Ginevra de Benci

Leonardo da Vinci Portrait of Ginevra de BenciLeonardo da Vinci Portrait Of A Young LadyLeonardo da Vinci Leda
Drum's other customers paused with their hands on assorted hilts. These weren't the normal city watch, cautious and genially corrupt. These were walking slabs of muscle and they were absolutely unbribable, if only because theshoulder suddenly sprouted a knife hilt. Then the girl spun around and with surgical precision planted a small foot in the groin of the first guard through the door. Twenty pairs of eyes watered in sympathy.
Rincewind grabbed his hat and tried to dive under the nearest table, but that grip was steel. The next guard to approach got another knife in the thigh. Then she drew a sword like a very long needle and raised it threateningly. Patrician could outbid anyone else. Anyway, they didn't seem to be looking for anyone except the woman. The rest of the clientele relaxed and prepared to enjoy the show. Eventually it might be worth joining it, once it was certain which was the winning side.Rincewind felt the pressure tighten on his wrist.'Are you mad?' he hissed. 'This is messing with the Man!'There was a swish and the sergeant's

Paul Gauguin By the Sea

Paul Gauguin By the SeaPaul Gauguin Breton Girls DancingHenri Matisse The Moroccans
rode away.
Far off, in his den under the barn, the Death of Rats relaxed his determined grip on a beam.
Windlefire crackled over the walls. There was so much life here it couldn’t be contained.
There were a few trolleys still here, skittering madly across the shaking floor, as lost as Windle.
He set off along another likely-looking corridor, although most corridors he’d been down in the last one hundred and thirty years hadn’t pulsated and dripped so much.
Another tentacle thrust through the wall and tripped him up. Of course, it couldn’t kill him. But it could make him bodiless. Like old One-Man-Bucket. A fate worse than death, probably. He pulled himself up. The ceiling bounced down on him, flattening him against the floor. Poons brought both feet down heavily on a tentacle snaking out from under the tiles, and lurched off through the steam. A slab of marble smashed down, showering him with fragments. Then he kicked the wall, savagely. very probably no way out now, he realised, and even if there was he couldn’t find it. Anyway, he was already inside the thing. It was shaking its own walls down in an effort to get at him. At least he could give it a really bad case of indigestion.He headed towards an orifice that had once been the entrance to a wide passage, and dived awkwardly through it just before it snapped shut. Silver

Leonardo da Vinci Leda

Leonardo da Vinci LedaLeonardo da Vinci Leda 1530Leonardo da Vinci Lady With An Ermine
scythe if you did that. It’d just be, well . . . bits. Certainly, you could make a scythe out of them, but you could probably do that with the dust and ashes if you knew how to do it. Ned Simnel was quite pleased with this line of argument. And, after all. Bill Door hadn’t even asked for proof that the thing had been. er, killed.
He took sight carefully and then used the scythe to chop the end off the anvil. Uncanny. Total sharpness.
He gave in. It . It didn’t seem very pleased to see him.
‘Squeak? Squeak?’
SQUEAK. the Death of Rats explained.
‘Squeak?’
SQUEAK, the Death of Rats confirmed.
‘[Preen whiskers] [twitch nose]?’was unfair. You couldn’t ask someone like him to destroy something like this. It was a work of art.It was better than that. It was a work of craft.He walked across the room to a stack of timber and thrust the scythe well out of the way behind the heap. There was a brief, punctured squeak. Anyway, it would be all right. He’d give Bill his farthing back in the morning.The Death of Rats materialised behind the heap in the forge, and trudged to the sad little heap of fur that had been a rat that got in the way of the scythe.Its ghost was standing beside it, looking apprehensive

Andy Warhol Dollar Sign 1981

Andy Warhol Dollar Sign 1981Andy Warhol Diamond Dust ShoesAndy Warhol daisy 1982
Well done.’ she said, and went back to the kitchen.
Bill Door felt Cyril’s accusing gaze on him.
He opened his hand. A tiny spot of light hovered over his palm. He blew on it, gently, and it faded away.
After lunch they put down the rat poison. He felt like a murderer.
A lot of rats died.
Down in the runs under the barn - in the deepest one, one tunnelled long ago by long-forgotten ancestral smoothly, as if travelling from no distance at all. Not so much a shape as a memory of a shape.
It tried it and found that, while totally wrong for the job, in some deeply satisfying way it was the only shape it could possibly be. It went to work.
That evening the men were practising archery on the green. Bill Door had carefully rodents - something appeared in the darkness.It seemed to have difficulty deciding what shape it was going to be.It began as a lump of highly-suspicious cheese. This didn’t seem to work.Then it tried something that looked very much like a small, hungry terrier. This was also rejected.For a moment it was a steel-jawed trap. This was clearly unsuitable. It cast around for fresh ideas and much to its surprise one arrived

Edward Hopper People In The Sun

Edward Hopper People In The SunFrederic Edwin Church The IcebergsFrederic Edwin Church Twilight in the Wilderness
since I lost my dad.’
For a moment Bill Door wondered if she’d lost the late Mr Flitworth in the parlour. Perhaps he’d taken a wrong turning among the ornaments. Then he recalled the funny little ways humans put things.
AH.
‘He used archly. ‘Not by name. Not as Bill Door.’
I DON’T THINK HE WOULD HAVE MENTIONED ME, said Bill Door slowly. ‘It’s all right,’ said Miss Flitworth.’I know all about it. Dad used to do a bit of smuggling, too. Well, this isn’t a big farm. It’s not what you’d call a living.
He always said a body has to do what it can. I expect you were in his line of
to sit in that very chair, reading the almanac.’Bill Door searched his memory.A TALL MAN, he ventured. WITH A MOUSTACHE? MISSING THE TIP OF THE LITTLE FINGER ON HIS LEFT HAND?Miss Flitworth stared at him over the top of her cup.‘You knew him?’ she said.I THINK I MET HIM ONCE.‘He never mentioned you,’ said Miss FIitworth

Leonardo da Vinci the picture of the last supper

Leonardo da Vinci the picture of the last supperLeonardo da Vinci picture of the last supperLeonardo da Vinci original picture of the last supperRaphael Deposition of ChristGeorge Frederick Watts Pablo and Francesca
Throat’s merchandise. He was standing at the bottom of some steps that led down to one of Ankh-Morpork’s countless cellars.
‘Hallo, Throat.’
‘Would ‘You see, I just come down to do a bit of stock-taking, and . . .’ He waved a hand helplessly.’Well . . . take a look . . .’
He opened the cellar door.
In the darkness something went plop.
Windle Poons lurched aimlessly along a dark alley in the Shades, arms extended you step down here a minute, Fred? I could use a bit of legal aid.’‘Got a problem, Throat?’Dibbler scratched his nose.‘Well, Fred . . . Is it a crime to be given something? I mean, without you knowing it?’‘Someone been giving you things, Throat?’Throat nodded.’Dunno. You know I keep merchandise down here?’ he said.‘Yeah.’