Jack Vettriano Dance Me To The End Of LoveJack Vettriano Dance Me to the End of Love IJack Vettriano Couple On The Promenade
self-referential and radioactive with each layoff. "It's possible we can't stand each other," says the novel's first-person-plural narrator, "but at this point we're helpless in the company of outsiders." This is a book that gets frighteningly truer month after month. Somehow it also remains just as funny.
7. The Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Pie Society Shaffer died earlier this year, leaving this book to be finished by her niece. The result of their joint efforts is a con job: it comes at you like a quirky, fluffy piece of chick lit about a lonely thirtysomething writer named Juliet in postwar London. But once you're in the door Guernsey reveals itself to be an entirely different animal, a story about war and peace and love and death that's much smarter than it has any right to be. Through a chain of used books and charming letters, Juliet ends up visiting the war-shattered Channel island of Guernsey, where the gutsy, eccentric inhabitants are trying to reconstruct their lives in spite of all the missing pieces. Guernsey proves that love stories don't have to be fantasies; they can be tart and wise and real.
Tuesday, December 30, 2008
Monday, December 29, 2008
Rembrandt The Conspiration of the Bataves
Rembrandt The Conspiration of the BatavesRembrandt Frederick Rihel on HorsebackSargent Villa di Marlia LuccaSargent In a Garden Corfu
hardwired into our genes, according to a study published today in the Journal of Personality and Social Psychology. The research suggests that facial expressions of emotion are innate rather than a product of cultural learning. The study is the first of its kind to demonstrate that sighted and blind individuals use the same facial expressions, producing the same facial muscle movements in response to specific emotional stimuli. The study also provides new insight into how humans manage emotional displays according to social context, suggesting that the ability to regulate emotional expressions is not learned through observation.
San Francisco State University Psychology Professor David Matsumoto compared the facial expressions of sighted and blind judo athletes at the 2004 Summer Olympics than 4,800 photographs were captured and analyzed, including images of athletes from 23 countries.
"The statistical correlation between the facial expressions of sighted and blind
hardwired into our genes, according to a study published today in the Journal of Personality and Social Psychology. The research suggests that facial expressions of emotion are innate rather than a product of cultural learning. The study is the first of its kind to demonstrate that sighted and blind individuals use the same facial expressions, producing the same facial muscle movements in response to specific emotional stimuli. The study also provides new insight into how humans manage emotional displays according to social context, suggesting that the ability to regulate emotional expressions is not learned through observation.
San Francisco State University Psychology Professor David Matsumoto compared the facial expressions of sighted and blind judo athletes at the 2004 Summer Olympics than 4,800 photographs were captured and analyzed, including images of athletes from 23 countries.
"The statistical correlation between the facial expressions of sighted and blind
Tuesday, December 23, 2008
Monsted In The Garden
Monsted In The GardenMonsted Gandria Lago Di LuganoMonsted A Summer's DayMonsted A River Landscape
the driveway, running toward Corky as he sped toward them, were Roman Castevet, whom he’d killed and stored under a sheet in the cold locker at the morgue, and Ned Hokenberry come back to retrieve the locket that contained his third eye, and anorexic Brittina Dowd as naked and bony as he had left her on the floor of her bedroom but not burnt, and Mick Sachatone in Bart Simpson pajamas.He should have known them for mirages, should have boldly run [585] to be at him, but burst, not real after all, merely figures of rain and shadow, plumes of cast-up water that splashed into shapeless sprays, flowed away, were gone.A full turn didn’t drain the Buick’s momentum, and they spun another ninety degrees, colliding with one of the trees that lined the driveway, thereby brought to an abrupt stop as the passenger’s them down, but never had he seen the like of this, nor dreamed that such a thing was possible. They were not transparent but appeared to be as solid as a fireplace poker or a bronze-and-marble lamp.Tramping the brake pedal, he jammed too hard, and perhaps pulled the wheel without intention. The Buick whipped around so sharply that the pistol on his lap was flung to the floor at his feet and his head rapped the side window hard enough to crack it.At the end of the 360-degree pivot, his four victims had not vanished during the rotation, but loomed right there, and all flung themselves at the car, shocking from Corky a scream that sounded too girlish for Robin Goodfellow. One, two, three, four, the angry dead burst against the windshield, against the cracked side window, eager
the driveway, running toward Corky as he sped toward them, were Roman Castevet, whom he’d killed and stored under a sheet in the cold locker at the morgue, and Ned Hokenberry come back to retrieve the locket that contained his third eye, and anorexic Brittina Dowd as naked and bony as he had left her on the floor of her bedroom but not burnt, and Mick Sachatone in Bart Simpson pajamas.He should have known them for mirages, should have boldly run [585] to be at him, but burst, not real after all, merely figures of rain and shadow, plumes of cast-up water that splashed into shapeless sprays, flowed away, were gone.A full turn didn’t drain the Buick’s momentum, and they spun another ninety degrees, colliding with one of the trees that lined the driveway, thereby brought to an abrupt stop as the passenger’s them down, but never had he seen the like of this, nor dreamed that such a thing was possible. They were not transparent but appeared to be as solid as a fireplace poker or a bronze-and-marble lamp.Tramping the brake pedal, he jammed too hard, and perhaps pulled the wheel without intention. The Buick whipped around so sharply that the pistol on his lap was flung to the floor at his feet and his head rapped the side window hard enough to crack it.At the end of the 360-degree pivot, his four victims had not vanished during the rotation, but loomed right there, and all flung themselves at the car, shocking from Corky a scream that sounded too girlish for Robin Goodfellow. One, two, three, four, the angry dead burst against the windshield, against the cracked side window, eager
Sunday, December 21, 2008
O'Keeffe Flagpole And White House
O'Keeffe Flagpole And White HouseO'Keeffe Calla Lily Turned Away 1923O'Keeffe Black Hollyhock Blue Larkspur 1930O'Keeffe Autumn Leaves
didn’t expect to have to kill anyone else today except Ethan Truman. [479] If Hazard had been nothing more than a man who wanted to live, he would have driven away without crossing the street to ring that doorbell.He responds to it not by automobile this time but by highways of fog and water, and by the idea of San Francisco.In a Los Angeles park, he pulls about him a cloak of earthbound cloud, and hundreds of miles to the north, he arrives through the soft a traditional guardian angel. He is one of the walking dead, but his flesh is now capable of whatever amazing feat his spirit demands of it.In this more northern and colder city, no rain falls. Water laps at the pilings of the wharf, an unpleasant chuckling that suggests mockery, conspiracy, and inhuman hunger.Perhaps the thing about being dead that most surprises him is the persistence of fear. He would have thought that with death came freedom from anxiety.[481] He trembles at the sounds of the water beneath the wharf, at the ponk was, however, also a good cop and Ethan’s friend. He believed that police work was not just a job, that it was a calling, and that friendship required commitment exactly when commitment was hardest to give.He opened the door. He got out of the car.folds of another fog, having traded the footpath in the park for the planking of a wharf.Because he is dead but has not yet moved on from this world to the next, he inhabits his own corpse, a strange condition. After he died in a coma, his spirit had resided briefly in a place that had felt like a doctor’s waiting room with neither tattered magazines nor hope. Then he was readmitted to the world, to his familiar mortal shell. He is no mere ghost, nor is he
didn’t expect to have to kill anyone else today except Ethan Truman. [479] If Hazard had been nothing more than a man who wanted to live, he would have driven away without crossing the street to ring that doorbell.He responds to it not by automobile this time but by highways of fog and water, and by the idea of San Francisco.In a Los Angeles park, he pulls about him a cloak of earthbound cloud, and hundreds of miles to the north, he arrives through the soft a traditional guardian angel. He is one of the walking dead, but his flesh is now capable of whatever amazing feat his spirit demands of it.In this more northern and colder city, no rain falls. Water laps at the pilings of the wharf, an unpleasant chuckling that suggests mockery, conspiracy, and inhuman hunger.Perhaps the thing about being dead that most surprises him is the persistence of fear. He would have thought that with death came freedom from anxiety.[481] He trembles at the sounds of the water beneath the wharf, at the ponk was, however, also a good cop and Ethan’s friend. He believed that police work was not just a job, that it was a calling, and that friendship required commitment exactly when commitment was hardest to give.He opened the door. He got out of the car.folds of another fog, having traded the footpath in the park for the planking of a wharf.Because he is dead but has not yet moved on from this world to the next, he inhabits his own corpse, a strange condition. After he died in a coma, his spirit had resided briefly in a place that had felt like a doctor’s waiting room with neither tattered magazines nor hope. Then he was readmitted to the world, to his familiar mortal shell. He is no mere ghost, nor is he
Friday, December 19, 2008
Thomas Moran View of Venice painting
Thomas Moran View of Venice paintingJean Francois Millet The sower paintingJean Francois Millet Spring painting
Golightly in a remake of Breakfast at Tiffany’s shot this time three thousand miles from the original [407] location, this time on the nation’s wild coast. The department sedan at Our Lady of Angels. Since Ethan had no police authority, he couldn’t arm-twist information out of anyone, but his partner couldn’t both arm-twist and drive.To check out their six leads, they would enter jurisdictions other than those strictly within the authority of the LAPD. Without preparing the way through proper channels, even Hazard would not have entirely legitimate authority. They didn’t have time for protocol.storm gloom transformed midday to dusk, as if some director were shooting day-for-night. The shop lights, the neon, the cold-cathode tubes, the bright festoons of colorful and vaguely Asian lanterns that decorated streets in a politically correct , the headlights and taillights—all rippled and flared off the storefront windows, off the walls of the glass buildings that rose in lunatic defiance of the earthquakes to come, across the wet pavement, sparkled like sequins in scintillant quicksilver plumes of vehicle exhaust, reminding Ethan of atmospheric shots in Blade Runner.The day was simultaneously too real and a fantasy, the dreams of Hollywood having brightened the city in a few places, darkened it in many more, changed it in every corner, until nothing seemed as solid as it ought to be.They were in Ethan’s Expedition, having left Hazard’s plain-wrap
Golightly in a remake of Breakfast at Tiffany’s shot this time three thousand miles from the original [407] location, this time on the nation’s wild coast. The department sedan at Our Lady of Angels. Since Ethan had no police authority, he couldn’t arm-twist information out of anyone, but his partner couldn’t both arm-twist and drive.To check out their six leads, they would enter jurisdictions other than those strictly within the authority of the LAPD. Without preparing the way through proper channels, even Hazard would not have entirely legitimate authority. They didn’t have time for protocol.storm gloom transformed midday to dusk, as if some director were shooting day-for-night. The shop lights, the neon, the cold-cathode tubes, the bright festoons of colorful and vaguely Asian lanterns that decorated streets in a politically correct , the headlights and taillights—all rippled and flared off the storefront windows, off the walls of the glass buildings that rose in lunatic defiance of the earthquakes to come, across the wet pavement, sparkled like sequins in scintillant quicksilver plumes of vehicle exhaust, reminding Ethan of atmospheric shots in Blade Runner.The day was simultaneously too real and a fantasy, the dreams of Hollywood having brightened the city in a few places, darkened it in many more, changed it in every corner, until nothing seemed as solid as it ought to be.They were in Ethan’s Expedition, having left Hazard’s plain-wrap
Tuesday, December 16, 2008
Mark Rothko Orange and Yellow painting
Mark Rothko Orange and Yellow paintingAlfred Gockel Endless Love paintingWassily Kandinsky Yellow Red Blue painting
opinion of Fric mattered to him.Besides, the more he thought about it, the more he realized that if he tried to convince anyone that he was in communication with a mirror-traveling guardian angel, he’d be hand-carried into a group-therapy session. The group would be six psychiatrists and he would be the only patient.Ghost Dad was almost as big on shrinks .A Beverly Hills caterer and forty of his employees could work here with Mr. Hachette and the household staff, with little sense of being crowded. At a party, they prepared, plated, and served three hundred sit-down dinners, on a timely basis, from this space. Fric had seen it happen many times, and it never failed to dazzle him.as he was on spiritual advisers.[339] Now Mrs. McBee stepped out of her office, closed the door, and paused to look around the kitchen.Fric ducked back behind the fryer-and-griddle island. He held his breath. He wished that he could as easily close down his pores and prevent them from spewing out his scent.The main kitchen was not quite a maze to rival the labyrinth of memorabilia in the attic, though it boasted not only six large Sub-Zero refrigerators but also two upright freezers, more ovens of more types than you would find in a bakery, three widely with a total of twenty high-intensity gas burners, a planning station, a baking station, a clean-up station with four sinks and four dishwashers, three islands, prep tables, and a shitload of restaurant-quality equipment
opinion of Fric mattered to him.Besides, the more he thought about it, the more he realized that if he tried to convince anyone that he was in communication with a mirror-traveling guardian angel, he’d be hand-carried into a group-therapy session. The group would be six psychiatrists and he would be the only patient.Ghost Dad was almost as big on shrinks .A Beverly Hills caterer and forty of his employees could work here with Mr. Hachette and the household staff, with little sense of being crowded. At a party, they prepared, plated, and served three hundred sit-down dinners, on a timely basis, from this space. Fric had seen it happen many times, and it never failed to dazzle him.as he was on spiritual advisers.[339] Now Mrs. McBee stepped out of her office, closed the door, and paused to look around the kitchen.Fric ducked back behind the fryer-and-griddle island. He held his breath. He wished that he could as easily close down his pores and prevent them from spewing out his scent.The main kitchen was not quite a maze to rival the labyrinth of memorabilia in the attic, though it boasted not only six large Sub-Zero refrigerators but also two upright freezers, more ovens of more types than you would find in a bakery, three widely with a total of twenty high-intensity gas burners, a planning station, a baking station, a clean-up station with four sinks and four dishwashers, three islands, prep tables, and a shitload of restaurant-quality equipment
Thursday, December 11, 2008
Andrea Mantegna Adoration of the Magi painting
Andrea Mantegna Adoration of the Magi paintingThomas Moran Ulysses and the Sirens paintingThomas Moran Mountain of the Holy Cross painting
wished for pain. Anything but this terrible lack of feeling.The paramedic at Ethan’s side spoke urgently to his teammate, who stood in the rain, beyond the open doors: “We’re gonna need speed.”“I’ll burn producing a silvery fitted Ethan with an oxygen mask.As cool as autumn, as sweet as springtime, a rich blend of air soothed his hot throat, but his wheezing did not in the least abate.[172] Having climbed behind the steering wheel in the front of the ambulance, the driver slammed his door, again causing the red tinsel to shimmer and the bells to ring.“Bells,” Ethan said, but the oxygen mask muffled the word.In the process of fitting the binaurals of a stethoscope to his ears, the paramedic paused. “What did you say?”The sight of the stethoscope inspired in Ethan the realization that he could hear his heartbeat, and that what he heard was ragged, uneven, alarming.asphalt,” the rain-lashed medic promised, and he slammed shut the doors.Along both side walls, near the ceiling, taut garlands of red tinsel sparkled. At the ends and in the middle of each garland, small silver bells, three per set, dangled brightly. Christmas decorations.The bells in each group were strung concentrically on the same string. The top bell, also the largest, overhung the middle bell, which overhung the third—which was also the smallest—in the set.When the door slammed, the tiny bells on each string jiggled against one another,
wished for pain. Anything but this terrible lack of feeling.The paramedic at Ethan’s side spoke urgently to his teammate, who stood in the rain, beyond the open doors: “We’re gonna need speed.”“I’ll burn producing a silvery fitted Ethan with an oxygen mask.As cool as autumn, as sweet as springtime, a rich blend of air soothed his hot throat, but his wheezing did not in the least abate.[172] Having climbed behind the steering wheel in the front of the ambulance, the driver slammed his door, again causing the red tinsel to shimmer and the bells to ring.“Bells,” Ethan said, but the oxygen mask muffled the word.In the process of fitting the binaurals of a stethoscope to his ears, the paramedic paused. “What did you say?”The sight of the stethoscope inspired in Ethan the realization that he could hear his heartbeat, and that what he heard was ragged, uneven, alarming.asphalt,” the rain-lashed medic promised, and he slammed shut the doors.Along both side walls, near the ceiling, taut garlands of red tinsel sparkled. At the ends and in the middle of each garland, small silver bells, three per set, dangled brightly. Christmas decorations.The bells in each group were strung concentrically on the same string. The top bell, also the largest, overhung the middle bell, which overhung the third—which was also the smallest—in the set.When the door slammed, the tiny bells on each string jiggled against one another,
Wednesday, December 10, 2008
William Bouguereau Little Thieves painting
William Bouguereau Little Thieves painting
I’d like to be your friend.”“What’re you, a pervert?”Fric had heard about perverts. Heck, he’d probably?”.”“Hide from who?”“I can’t tell you that. Let’s just call him the Beast in Yellow. But you’re going to need a secret place real soon.”Fric knew that he should hang up, that it might be dangerous to play along with this nutball. Most likely he was a pathetic pervert loser who got lucky with a phone number and would sooner or later start with the dirty talk. But the guy might also be a sorcerer who could cast a spell long distance, or he might be an evil psychologist who could hypnotize a boy over the telephone and make him rob liquor stores and then make him turn over all the money while clucking like a met hundreds of them. He didn’t know all
Sung Kim Vineyard Village paintingSung Kim Vineyard Terrace paintingSung Kim Vineyard Hill I painting
Everyone has to have a name, even if it’s just one, like Cher or Godzilla.”“Not me. I’m only one among multitudes, nameless now. There’s trouble coming, young Fric, and you need to be ready for it.”“What trouble?”“Do you know of a place in your house where you could hide and never be found?” the stranger asked.“That’s a weird-ass question.”“You’re going to need a place to hide where no one can find you, Fric. A deep and special secret placethe things they might do to a kid, and he wasn’t exactly sure what thing they liked most to do, but he knew [101] they were out there with their collections of kids’ eyeballs, wearing necklaces made out of their victims’ bones.“I have no desire to hurt you,” said the stranger, which was no doubt what any pervert would have said. “Quite the opposite. I want to help you, Fric.”“Help me do what?”“Survive.”“What’s your namechicken.
I’d like to be your friend.”“What’re you, a pervert?”Fric had heard about perverts. Heck, he’d probably?”.”“Hide from who?”“I can’t tell you that. Let’s just call him the Beast in Yellow. But you’re going to need a secret place real soon.”Fric knew that he should hang up, that it might be dangerous to play along with this nutball. Most likely he was a pathetic pervert loser who got lucky with a phone number and would sooner or later start with the dirty talk. But the guy might also be a sorcerer who could cast a spell long distance, or he might be an evil psychologist who could hypnotize a boy over the telephone and make him rob liquor stores and then make him turn over all the money while clucking like a met hundreds of them. He didn’t know all
Sung Kim Vineyard Village paintingSung Kim Vineyard Terrace paintingSung Kim Vineyard Hill I painting
Everyone has to have a name, even if it’s just one, like Cher or Godzilla.”“Not me. I’m only one among multitudes, nameless now. There’s trouble coming, young Fric, and you need to be ready for it.”“What trouble?”“Do you know of a place in your house where you could hide and never be found?” the stranger asked.“That’s a weird-ass question.”“You’re going to need a place to hide where no one can find you, Fric. A deep and special secret placethe things they might do to a kid, and he wasn’t exactly sure what thing they liked most to do, but he knew [101] they were out there with their collections of kids’ eyeballs, wearing necklaces made out of their victims’ bones.“I have no desire to hurt you,” said the stranger, which was no doubt what any pervert would have said. “Quite the opposite. I want to help you, Fric.”“Help me do what?”“Survive.”“What’s your namechicken.
Alphonse Maria Mucha Morning Star painting
Alphonse Maria Mucha Morning Star paintingAlphonse Maria Mucha Monaco Monte Carlo paintingAlphonse Maria Mucha Medee paintingAlphonse Maria Mucha Heidsieck and Co painting
and zoom, then Camera 02. Both delivered readable shots of the rear license plate.Dwindling into the night, the car conjured briefly lingering ghosts from its tailpipe.Then the narrow street lay deserted, in wet gloom except for the lamps at the Manheim gate. Black rain, as if from a dissolving night sky, poured down, poured down, driving the darkness of the his quarters in the west wing, Ethan called the housekeeper, Mrs. McBee, to report that he’d be out most of the day.More efficient than any machine, more dependable than the laws of physics, as trustworthy as any archangel, Mrs. McBee would within minutes dispatch one of the six maids under her command to Ethan’s [16] apartment. Seven days a week, a maid collected the trash and provided fresh towels. Twice weekly, his rooms were dusted, vacuumed, and left immaculate. Windows were washed twice a month.There were advantages to living in a mansion attended by a staff of twenty-five.As the chief of security overseeing both the Face’s personal protection and the safeguarding of the estate, Ethan enjoyed many benefits, including free meals prepared by either Mr. Hachette, the household chef, or by Mr. Baptiste, the household cook. Mr. Baptiste lacked his boss’s training in the finest culinary schools; but no one with taste buds ever complained about any dish he
and zoom, then Camera 02. Both delivered readable shots of the rear license plate.Dwindling into the night, the car conjured briefly lingering ghosts from its tailpipe.Then the narrow street lay deserted, in wet gloom except for the lamps at the Manheim gate. Black rain, as if from a dissolving night sky, poured down, poured down, driving the darkness of the his quarters in the west wing, Ethan called the housekeeper, Mrs. McBee, to report that he’d be out most of the day.More efficient than any machine, more dependable than the laws of physics, as trustworthy as any archangel, Mrs. McBee would within minutes dispatch one of the six maids under her command to Ethan’s [16] apartment. Seven days a week, a maid collected the trash and provided fresh towels. Twice weekly, his rooms were dusted, vacuumed, and left immaculate. Windows were washed twice a month.There were advantages to living in a mansion attended by a staff of twenty-five.As the chief of security overseeing both the Face’s personal protection and the safeguarding of the estate, Ethan enjoyed many benefits, including free meals prepared by either Mr. Hachette, the household chef, or by Mr. Baptiste, the household cook. Mr. Baptiste lacked his boss’s training in the finest culinary schools; but no one with taste buds ever complained about any dish he
Sunday, December 7, 2008
Jean Francois Millet The flight into Egypt painting
Jean Francois Millet The flight into Egypt paintingJean Francois Millet The Angelus paintingJean Francois Millet Shepherdess with her flock paintingJean Francois Millet Norman Milkmaid painting
him, vast grey figures silent but threatening. Then he saw that they were indeed : the craft and power of old had wrought upon them, and still they preserved through the suns and rains of forgotten years the mighty likenesses in which they had been hewn. Upon great pedestals founded in the deep waters stood two great kings of stone: still with blurred eyes and crannied brows they frowned upon the North. The left hand of each was raised palm outwards in gesture of warning; in each right hand there was an axe; upon each head there was a and erect, guiding the boat with skilful strokes; his hood was cast back, and his dark hair was blowing crumbling helm and crown. Great power and majesty they still wore, the silent wardens of a long-vanished kingdom. Awe and fear fell upon Frodo, and he cowered down, shutting his eyes and not daring to look up as the boat drew near. Even Boromir bowed his head as the boats whirled by. frail and fleeting as little leaves, under the enduring shadow of the sentinels of Númenor. So they passed into the dark chasm of the Gates.Sheer rose the dreadful cliffs to unguessed heights on either side. Far off was the dim sky. The black waters roared and echoed, and a wind screamed over them. Frodo crouching over his knees heard Sam in front muttering and groaning: `What a place! What a horrible place! Just let me get out of this boat, and I'll never wet my toes in a puddle again, let alone a river! '`Fear not! ' said a strange voice behind him. Frodo turned and saw Strider, and yet not Strider; for the weatherworn Ranger was no longer there. In the stern sat Aragorn son of Arathorn, proud
him, vast grey figures silent but threatening. Then he saw that they were indeed : the craft and power of old had wrought upon them, and still they preserved through the suns and rains of forgotten years the mighty likenesses in which they had been hewn. Upon great pedestals founded in the deep waters stood two great kings of stone: still with blurred eyes and crannied brows they frowned upon the North. The left hand of each was raised palm outwards in gesture of warning; in each right hand there was an axe; upon each head there was a and erect, guiding the boat with skilful strokes; his hood was cast back, and his dark hair was blowing crumbling helm and crown. Great power and majesty they still wore, the silent wardens of a long-vanished kingdom. Awe and fear fell upon Frodo, and he cowered down, shutting his eyes and not daring to look up as the boat drew near. Even Boromir bowed his head as the boats whirled by. frail and fleeting as little leaves, under the enduring shadow of the sentinels of Númenor. So they passed into the dark chasm of the Gates.Sheer rose the dreadful cliffs to unguessed heights on either side. Far off was the dim sky. The black waters roared and echoed, and a wind screamed over them. Frodo crouching over his knees heard Sam in front muttering and groaning: `What a place! What a horrible place! Just let me get out of this boat, and I'll never wet my toes in a puddle again, let alone a river! '`Fear not! ' said a strange voice behind him. Frodo turned and saw Strider, and yet not Strider; for the weatherworn Ranger was no longer there. In the stern sat Aragorn son of Arathorn, proud
Friday, December 5, 2008
John William Waterhouse Miranda - The Tempest painting
John William Waterhouse Miranda - The Tempest paintingJohn William Waterhouse Echo and Narcissus painting
stood in the middle of the span, leaning on the staff in his left hand, but in his other hand Glamdring gleamed, cold and white. His enemy halted again, facing him, and the shadow about it reached out like two vast wings. It raised the whip, and the thongs whined and cracked. Fire came from its nostrils. But Gandalf stood firm.`You cannot pass,' he said. The orcs stood still, and a dead silence fell. `I am a servant of the Secret Fire, wielder of the flame of Anor. You cannot pass. The dark fire will not avail you, flame of Udûn. Go back to the Shadow! You cannot pass.'
Leonardo da Vinci Madonna with the Yarnwinder paintingRembrandt Rembrandt night watch painting
Balrog,' muttered Gandalf. `Now I understand.' He faltered and leaned heavily on his staff. `What an evil fortune! And I am already weary.'The dark figure streaming with fire raced towards them. The orcs yelled and poured over the stone gangways. Then Boromir raised his horn and blew. Loud the challenge rang and bellowed, like the shout of many throats under the cavernous roof. For a moment the orcs quailed and the fiery shadow halted. Then the echoes died as suddenly as a flame blown out by a dark wind, and the enemy advanced again.'Over the bridge!' cried Gandalf, recalling his strength. `Fly! This is a foe beyond any of you. I must hold the narrow way. Fly! ' Aragorn and Boromir did not heed the command, but still held their ground, side by side, behind Gandalf at the far end of the bridge. The others halted just within the doorway at the hall's end, and turned, unable to leave their leader to face the enemy alone.The Balrog reached the bridge. Gandalf
stood in the middle of the span, leaning on the staff in his left hand, but in his other hand Glamdring gleamed, cold and white. His enemy halted again, facing him, and the shadow about it reached out like two vast wings. It raised the whip, and the thongs whined and cracked. Fire came from its nostrils. But Gandalf stood firm.`You cannot pass,' he said. The orcs stood still, and a dead silence fell. `I am a servant of the Secret Fire, wielder of the flame of Anor. You cannot pass. The dark fire will not avail you, flame of Udûn. Go back to the Shadow! You cannot pass.'
Leonardo da Vinci Madonna with the Yarnwinder paintingRembrandt Rembrandt night watch painting
Balrog,' muttered Gandalf. `Now I understand.' He faltered and leaned heavily on his staff. `What an evil fortune! And I am already weary.'The dark figure streaming with fire raced towards them. The orcs yelled and poured over the stone gangways. Then Boromir raised his horn and blew. Loud the challenge rang and bellowed, like the shout of many throats under the cavernous roof. For a moment the orcs quailed and the fiery shadow halted. Then the echoes died as suddenly as a flame blown out by a dark wind, and the enemy advanced again.'Over the bridge!' cried Gandalf, recalling his strength. `Fly! This is a foe beyond any of you. I must hold the narrow way. Fly! ' Aragorn and Boromir did not heed the command, but still held their ground, side by side, behind Gandalf at the far end of the bridge. The others halted just within the doorway at the hall's end, and turned, unable to leave their leader to face the enemy alone.The Balrog reached the bridge. Gandalf
Wednesday, December 3, 2008
Jean Auguste Dominique Ingres paintings
Jean Auguste Dominique Ingres paintingsJean-Leon Gerome paintings
guarded this creature day and night, at Gandalf's bidding, much though we wearied of the task. But Gandalf bade us hope still for his cure, and we had not the heart to keep him ever in dungeons under the earth, where he would fall back into his old black thoughts.''You were less tender to me,' said Glóin with a flash of his eyes as old memories were stirred of his imprisonment in the deep places of the Elven-king's halls.'Now come!' said Gandalf. `Pray do not interrupt, my good Glóin. That was a regrettable misunderstanding, long set right. If all the grievances that stand between Elves and Dwarves are to be brought up here, we may as well abandon this Council.'
Lorenzo Lotto paintingsLouis Aston Knight paintings
lean and withered. He could work much mischief still, if he were free. And I do not doubt that he was allowed to leave Mordor on some evil errand.'`Alas! alas!' cried Legolas, and in his fair elvish face there was great distress. `The tidings that I was sent to bring must now be told. They are not good, but only here have I learned how evil they may seem to this company. Sméagol, who is now called Gollum, has escaped.''Escaped?' cried Aragorn. 'That is ill news indeed. We shall all rue it bitterly, I fear. How came the folk of Thranduil to fail in their trust?'`Not through lack of watchfulness,' said Legolas; `but perhaps through over-kindliness. And we fear that the prisoner had aid from others, and that more is known of our doings than we
guarded this creature day and night, at Gandalf's bidding, much though we wearied of the task. But Gandalf bade us hope still for his cure, and we had not the heart to keep him ever in dungeons under the earth, where he would fall back into his old black thoughts.''You were less tender to me,' said Glóin with a flash of his eyes as old memories were stirred of his imprisonment in the deep places of the Elven-king's halls.'Now come!' said Gandalf. `Pray do not interrupt, my good Glóin. That was a regrettable misunderstanding, long set right. If all the grievances that stand between Elves and Dwarves are to be brought up here, we may as well abandon this Council.'
Lorenzo Lotto paintingsLouis Aston Knight paintings
lean and withered. He could work much mischief still, if he were free. And I do not doubt that he was allowed to leave Mordor on some evil errand.'`Alas! alas!' cried Legolas, and in his fair elvish face there was great distress. `The tidings that I was sent to bring must now be told. They are not good, but only here have I learned how evil they may seem to this company. Sméagol, who is now called Gollum, has escaped.''Escaped?' cried Aragorn. 'That is ill news indeed. We shall all rue it bitterly, I fear. How came the folk of Thranduil to fail in their trust?'`Not through lack of watchfulness,' said Legolas; `but perhaps through over-kindliness. And we fear that the prisoner had aid from others, and that more is known of our doings than we
Tuesday, December 2, 2008
Stubbs Green Monkey
Stubbs Green MonkeyStubbs Bay Horse and White DogStubbs A Grey Stallion In A LandscapeStubbs A Grey Horse
see,' laughed Strider. 'I look foul and feel fair. Is that it? All that is gold does not glitter, not all those who wander are lost.''Did the verses apply to you then?' asked Frodo. 'I could not make out what they were about. But how did you know that they were in Gandalf's letter, if you have never seen it?''I did not know,' he answered. 'But I am Aragorn, and those verses go with that name.' He drew out his sword, and they saw thafrom here to Rivendell. It commands a wide view all round; and there we shall have a chance to look about us. Gandalf will make for that point, if he follows us. After Weathertop our journey will become more difficult, and we shall have to choose between various dangers.'t the blade was indeed broken a foot below the hilt. 'Not much use is it, Sam?' said Strider. 'But the time is near when it shall be forged anew.'Sam said nothing.'Well,' said Strider, 'with Sam's permission we will call that settled. Strider shall be your guide. We shall have a rough road tomorrow. Even if we are allowed to leave Bree unhindered, we can hardly hope now to leave it unnoticed. But I shall try to get lost as soon as possible. I know one or two ways out of Bree-land other than the main road. If once we shake off the pursuit, I shall make for Weathertop.''Weathertop?' said Sam. 'What's that?''It is a hill, just to the north of the Road, about half way
see,' laughed Strider. 'I look foul and feel fair. Is that it? All that is gold does not glitter, not all those who wander are lost.''Did the verses apply to you then?' asked Frodo. 'I could not make out what they were about. But how did you know that they were in Gandalf's letter, if you have never seen it?''I did not know,' he answered. 'But I am Aragorn, and those verses go with that name.' He drew out his sword, and they saw thafrom here to Rivendell. It commands a wide view all round; and there we shall have a chance to look about us. Gandalf will make for that point, if he follows us. After Weathertop our journey will become more difficult, and we shall have to choose between various dangers.'t the blade was indeed broken a foot below the hilt. 'Not much use is it, Sam?' said Strider. 'But the time is near when it shall be forged anew.'Sam said nothing.'Well,' said Strider, 'with Sam's permission we will call that settled. Strider shall be your guide. We shall have a rough road tomorrow. Even if we are allowed to leave Bree unhindered, we can hardly hope now to leave it unnoticed. But I shall try to get lost as soon as possible. I know one or two ways out of Bree-land other than the main road. If once we shake off the pursuit, I shall make for Weathertop.''Weathertop?' said Sam. 'What's that?''It is a hill, just to the north of the Road, about half way
Monday, December 1, 2008
Caillebotte Sailing Boats at Argenteuil
Caillebotte Sailing Boats at ArgenteuilCaillebotte Rooftops Under SnowCaillebotte Rising RoadCaillebotte Regatta at Argenteuil
of the way. We could save a quarter of the distance if we made a line for the Ferry from where we stand.’‘Short cuts make long delays,’ argued Pippin. ‘The country is rough round here, and there are bogs and all kinds of difficulties down in the Marish – I know the land in these parts. And if you are worrying about Black Riders, I can’t see that it is any worse meeting them on a road than in a wood or a field.’‘It is less easy to said Frodo. ‘Short cuts make delays, but inns make longer ones. At all costs we must keep you away from the Golden Perch. We want to get to Bucklebury before dark. What do you say, Sam?’‘I will go along with you, Mr. Frodo,’ said Sam (in spite of private misgiving and a deep regret for the best beer in the Eastfarthing).‘Then if we are going to toil through bog and briar, let’s go now!’ said Pippin.It was already nearly as hot as it had been the day before; but clouds were beginning to come up from the West. It looked likely to turn to rain. The hobbits scrambled down a steep green bank and plunged into the thick trees below. Their course had been chosen to leave Woodhall find people in the woods and fields,’ answered Frodo. ‘And if you are supposed to be on the road, there is some chance that you will be looked for on the road and not off it.’‘All right!’ said Pippin. ‘I will follow you into every bog and ditch. But it is hard! I had counted on passing the Golden Perch at Stock before sundown. The best beer in the Eastfarthing, or used to be: it is a long time since I tasted it.’‘That settles it!’
of the way. We could save a quarter of the distance if we made a line for the Ferry from where we stand.’‘Short cuts make long delays,’ argued Pippin. ‘The country is rough round here, and there are bogs and all kinds of difficulties down in the Marish – I know the land in these parts. And if you are worrying about Black Riders, I can’t see that it is any worse meeting them on a road than in a wood or a field.’‘It is less easy to said Frodo. ‘Short cuts make delays, but inns make longer ones. At all costs we must keep you away from the Golden Perch. We want to get to Bucklebury before dark. What do you say, Sam?’‘I will go along with you, Mr. Frodo,’ said Sam (in spite of private misgiving and a deep regret for the best beer in the Eastfarthing).‘Then if we are going to toil through bog and briar, let’s go now!’ said Pippin.It was already nearly as hot as it had been the day before; but clouds were beginning to come up from the West. It looked likely to turn to rain. The hobbits scrambled down a steep green bank and plunged into the thick trees below. Their course had been chosen to leave Woodhall find people in the woods and fields,’ answered Frodo. ‘And if you are supposed to be on the road, there is some chance that you will be looked for on the road and not off it.’‘All right!’ said Pippin. ‘I will follow you into every bog and ditch. But it is hard! I had counted on passing the Golden Perch at Stock before sundown. The best beer in the Eastfarthing, or used to be: it is a long time since I tasted it.’‘That settles it!’
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