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
Wednesday, April 8, 2009
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
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
Monday, April 6, 2009
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
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
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
Thursday, April 2, 2009
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
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
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
Wednesday, April 1, 2009
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.’
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.’
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)