Jack Vettriano The Barmaid's FancyJack Vettriano The AssessorsJack Vettriano The Assessment
did you?'
Death shrugged.
WHAT'S THAT ? ONE STEP AWAY FROM GRAMPS, IN MY OPINION. ANYWAY, I THOUGHT YOU BELIEVED IN LOGIC. CALLING SOMETHING A FIGURE OF SPEECH DOESN'T MEAN IT'S NOT TRUE.
Death waved the hourglass vaguely.
FOR EXAMPLE, he said, MANY THINGS ARE BETTER THAN A POKE IN THE EYE WITH A BLUNT STICK. I'VE NEVER UNDERSTOOD THE PHRASE. SURELY A SHARP STICK WOULD BE EVEN WORSE–
Death stopped.
I'M DOING IT AGAIN! WHY SHOULD I CARE WHAT THE WRETCHED PHRASE MEANS? OR WHAT YOU CALL ME? UNIMPORTAYOU'VE GOT THERE?He took Buddy's lifetimer from her and held it up.AH. INTERESTING.'Do you know what it means, Grandad?'I'VE NOT COME ACROSS IT BEFORE, BUT I SUPPOSE IT'S POSSIBLE. IN CERTAIN CIRCUMSTANCES. IT MEANS . . . SOMEHOW . . . THAT HE HAS RHYTHM IN HIS SOUL . . . GRANDAD?'Oh, no. That can't be right. That's just a figure of speech. And what's wrong with grandad?'GRANDFATHER I CAN LIVE WITH. GRANDAD
Tuesday, May 12, 2009
Monday, May 11, 2009
Julius LeBlanc Stewart At Home
Julius LeBlanc Stewart At HomeTitian Sacred and Profane LoveFrancisco de Goya The ParasolBartolome Esteban Murillo Madonna and Child
stomach, although it could probably cause one. Albert could make an egg wish it had never been laid.
'Haven't you got any muesli?' she said.
'Is that some kind of sausage?' said Albert suspiciously.
'It's nuts and grains.'
'Any fat in it?'
'Hah, boiling's no good, it don't kill off all the germs.'
'BOIL ME AN EGG, ALBERT.'
As the echoes bounced across and died away, Susan wondered where the voice had come from.
Albert's ladle tinkled on the tiles.
'Please?' said Susan.
'You did the voice,' said Albert.'I don't think so.''How're you supposed to fry it, then?''You don't fry it.''You call that breakfast?''It doesn't have to be fried to be breakfast,' said Susan. 'I mean, you mentioned porridge, and you don't fry porridge–’'Who says?''A boiled egg, then?'
stomach, although it could probably cause one. Albert could make an egg wish it had never been laid.
'Haven't you got any muesli?' she said.
'Is that some kind of sausage?' said Albert suspiciously.
'It's nuts and grains.'
'Any fat in it?'
'Hah, boiling's no good, it don't kill off all the germs.'
'BOIL ME AN EGG, ALBERT.'
As the echoes bounced across and died away, Susan wondered where the voice had come from.
Albert's ladle tinkled on the tiles.
'Please?' said Susan.
'You did the voice,' said Albert.'I don't think so.''How're you supposed to fry it, then?''You don't fry it.''You call that breakfast?''It doesn't have to be fried to be breakfast,' said Susan. 'I mean, you mentioned porridge, and you don't fry porridge–’'Who says?''A boiled egg, then?'
Wednesday, May 6, 2009
Paul Klee Park bei Luzern
Paul Klee Park bei LuzernPaul Klee On a Motif from HamametPaul Klee Heroic RosesPaul Klee Hermitage
both hands, and considerable vigour, he threw open the curtains and let in the round, white light of the full moon.
Behind him, he thought he heard Angua sigh in her sleep.
There were Sergeant Colon sat on the bench outside the baking air of the Watch House.
There was a hammering noise from somewhere inside. Cuddy had come in ten minutes before with a bag of tools, a couple of helmets and a determined expression. Colon was damned if he knew what the little devil was working on.
He counted again, very slowly, ticking off names on his clipboard.thunderstorms out on the plain. Carrot could see lightning flashes stitching the horizon, and he could smell rain. But the air of the city was still and baking, all the hotter for the distant prospect of storms.The University's Tower of Art loomed in front of him. He saw it every day. It dominated half the city.Behind him, the bed went glink.'I think there's going to be—' he began, and turned.As he turned away, he missed the glint of moonlight on metal from the top of the tower.
both hands, and considerable vigour, he threw open the curtains and let in the round, white light of the full moon.
Behind him, he thought he heard Angua sigh in her sleep.
There were Sergeant Colon sat on the bench outside the baking air of the Watch House.
There was a hammering noise from somewhere inside. Cuddy had come in ten minutes before with a bag of tools, a couple of helmets and a determined expression. Colon was damned if he knew what the little devil was working on.
He counted again, very slowly, ticking off names on his clipboard.thunderstorms out on the plain. Carrot could see lightning flashes stitching the horizon, and he could smell rain. But the air of the city was still and baking, all the hotter for the distant prospect of storms.The University's Tower of Art loomed in front of him. He saw it every day. It dominated half the city.Behind him, the bed went glink.'I think there's going to be—' he began, and turned.As he turned away, he missed the glint of moonlight on metal from the top of the tower.
Sunday, May 3, 2009
Vincent van Gogh View of Arles with Irises I
Vincent van Gogh View of Arles with Irises IVincent van Gogh Wheatfield with a LarkVincent van Gogh Vegetable Gardens in MontmartreVincent van Gogh Vegetable gardens at the Montmartre
clothes had been laid out for him. Tonight there was something dashing in red and yellow . . .
. . . about now he'd be patrolling Treacle Mine Road . . . . . . and a hat. It had a feather in it.
Vimes dressed himself, and even wore the hat. And he seemed quite normal and composed, until you realized that he avoided meeting his own gaze in the mirror.
The Watch sat around thecards, and we get the King's Shilling when we join up,' said Nobby. 'We got kings all over the place except on that gold throne in the Palace. I'll tell you . . . there wouldn't be all this trouble around the place if we had a king.'
Carrot was staring at the ceiling, his eyebrows locked in concentration. Detritus was counting on his fingers.
'Oh, yes,' said Sergeant Colon. 'Beer'd be a penny a pint, big table in the guardroom and in deep gloom. They were Off Duty. They'd never really been Off Duty before.'What say we have a game of cards?' said Nobby, brightly. He produced a greasy pack from somewhere in the noisome recesses of his uniform.'You won everyone's wages off them yesterday,' said Sergeant Colon.'Now's the chance to win 'em back, then.''Yeah, but there were five kings in your hand, Nobby.'Nobby shuffled the cards.' 'S'funny, that,' he said, 'there's kings everywhere, when you look.''There certainly is if you look up your sleeve.''No, I mean, there's Kings Way in Ankh, and kings in
clothes had been laid out for him. Tonight there was something dashing in red and yellow . . .
. . . about now he'd be patrolling Treacle Mine Road . . . . . . and a hat. It had a feather in it.
Vimes dressed himself, and even wore the hat. And he seemed quite normal and composed, until you realized that he avoided meeting his own gaze in the mirror.
The Watch sat around thecards, and we get the King's Shilling when we join up,' said Nobby. 'We got kings all over the place except on that gold throne in the Palace. I'll tell you . . . there wouldn't be all this trouble around the place if we had a king.'
Carrot was staring at the ceiling, his eyebrows locked in concentration. Detritus was counting on his fingers.
'Oh, yes,' said Sergeant Colon. 'Beer'd be a penny a pint, big table in the guardroom and in deep gloom. They were Off Duty. They'd never really been Off Duty before.'What say we have a game of cards?' said Nobby, brightly. He produced a greasy pack from somewhere in the noisome recesses of his uniform.'You won everyone's wages off them yesterday,' said Sergeant Colon.'Now's the chance to win 'em back, then.''Yeah, but there were five kings in your hand, Nobby.'Nobby shuffled the cards.' 'S'funny, that,' he said, 'there's kings everywhere, when you look.''There certainly is if you look up your sleeve.''No, I mean, there's Kings Way in Ankh, and kings in
Tuesday, April 28, 2009
Caravaggio The Entombment of Christ
Caravaggio The Entombment of Christ
only one step away from mime artists, too.'No, sir,' he said. 'It was obviously an acddent, right?''Quite so. Brother Boffo will show you to the door,' said the head clown. 'And then,' he added, 'he will report to my office. Does he understand?''Yes, Dr have it out
Caravaggio Boy with a Basket of Fruit
think that is Guild business, sergeant. Don't you?''Well, sir, he was found in the—''I am sure it is something we don't need to bother the Watch with,' said Dr Whiteface.Colon hesitated. He'd prefer to face Dr Cruces than this apparition. At least the Assassins were supposed to be unpleasant. Clowns,
Bartolome Esteban Murillo Annunciation
Whiteface,' mumbled Boffo.'What'll he do to you?' said Nobby, as they headed for the gate.'Hat full of whitewash, probably,' said Boffo. 'Pie inna face if I'm lucky.'He opened the wicket gate.'A lot of us ain't happy about this,' he whispered. 'I don't see why those buggers should get away with it. We ought to go round to the Assassins and
William Bouguereau The Song of the Angels
why are you here?'
'Investigating our inquiries as to the fatal demise of the down Beano, sir,' said Colon.
'I rather were with them.'
'Why the Assassins?' said Colon. 'Why would they kill a down?'
Boffo looked guilty. 'I never said a thing!'
Colon glared at him. 'There's definitely something odd happening, Mr Boffo.'
Boffo looked around, as if expecting a vengeful
only one step away from mime artists, too.'No, sir,' he said. 'It was obviously an acddent, right?''Quite so. Brother Boffo will show you to the door,' said the head clown. 'And then,' he added, 'he will report to my office. Does he understand?''Yes, Dr have it out
Caravaggio Boy with a Basket of Fruit
think that is Guild business, sergeant. Don't you?''Well, sir, he was found in the—''I am sure it is something we don't need to bother the Watch with,' said Dr Whiteface.Colon hesitated. He'd prefer to face Dr Cruces than this apparition. At least the Assassins were supposed to be unpleasant. Clowns,
Bartolome Esteban Murillo Annunciation
Whiteface,' mumbled Boffo.'What'll he do to you?' said Nobby, as they headed for the gate.'Hat full of whitewash, probably,' said Boffo. 'Pie inna face if I'm lucky.'He opened the wicket gate.'A lot of us ain't happy about this,' he whispered. 'I don't see why those buggers should get away with it. We ought to go round to the Assassins and
William Bouguereau The Song of the Angels
why are you here?'
'Investigating our inquiries as to the fatal demise of the down Beano, sir,' said Colon.
'I rather were with them.'
'Why the Assassins?' said Colon. 'Why would they kill a down?'
Boffo looked guilty. 'I never said a thing!'
Colon glared at him. 'There's definitely something odd happening, Mr Boffo.'
Boffo looked around, as if expecting a vengeful
George Inness The Coming Storm
George Inness The Coming StormGeorge Inness SunsetGeorge Inness Peace and PlentyGeorge Inness Delaware Water Gap
woodlands to enable future generations to appreciate the sublime beauty of wild Nature transformed by Man. There have been the high spot, if such it could be called, of his career. For example, they contained the ornamental trout lake, one hundred and fifty yards long and, because of one of those trifling errors of notation that were such a distinctive feature of Bloody Stupid's designs, one inch wide. It was the home of one trout, which was quite comfortable provided it didn't try to turn around, and had once featured an ornate fountain which, when first switched on, did nothing but groan ominously for five minutes and then fire a small stone cherub a thousand feet into the air.
It contained the hoho, which was like a haha only deeper. A haha is a concealed ditch Capability Brown, Sagacity Smith, Intuition De Vere Slade-Gore . . .In Ankh-Morpork, there was Bloody Stupid Johnson.Bloody Stupid 'It Might Look A Bit Messy Now But Just You Come Back In Five Hundred Years' Time' Johnson. Bloody Stupid 'Look, The Plans Were The Right Way Round When I Drew Them' Johnson. Bloody Stupid Johnson, who had 2,000 tons of earth built into an artificial hillock in front of Quirm Manor because 'It'd drive me mad to have to look at a bunch of trees and mountains all day long, how about you?'The Ankh-Morpork palace grounds were considered
woodlands to enable future generations to appreciate the sublime beauty of wild Nature transformed by Man. There have been the high spot, if such it could be called, of his career. For example, they contained the ornamental trout lake, one hundred and fifty yards long and, because of one of those trifling errors of notation that were such a distinctive feature of Bloody Stupid's designs, one inch wide. It was the home of one trout, which was quite comfortable provided it didn't try to turn around, and had once featured an ornate fountain which, when first switched on, did nothing but groan ominously for five minutes and then fire a small stone cherub a thousand feet into the air.
It contained the hoho, which was like a haha only deeper. A haha is a concealed ditch Capability Brown, Sagacity Smith, Intuition De Vere Slade-Gore . . .In Ankh-Morpork, there was Bloody Stupid Johnson.Bloody Stupid 'It Might Look A Bit Messy Now But Just You Come Back In Five Hundred Years' Time' Johnson. Bloody Stupid 'Look, The Plans Were The Right Way Round When I Drew Them' Johnson. Bloody Stupid Johnson, who had 2,000 tons of earth built into an artificial hillock in front of Quirm Manor because 'It'd drive me mad to have to look at a bunch of trees and mountains all day long, how about you?'The Ankh-Morpork palace grounds were considered
Sunday, April 26, 2009
Mark Spain Carmen
Mark Spain CarmenMark Spain Burning DesireMark Spain Blue Dress On GoldMark Spain After HoursMark Spain A Moment Of Tranquility
Some were going to die. She’d sensed their future deaths . . . the deaths of Esme Weatherwax. And couldn’t save them, because chance did not work like that.
On a million hillsides the girl ran, on a million bridges the girl chose, on a million paths the woman stood. ..
All different, all one“What about the lovely red and white pair I gave you on Hogswatchnight? I knitted ‘em myself. You know how I hates knitting.”
“Well, it’s a warm night. I likes to, you know, let the air circulate.”
“I had the devil of a time with the heels.”
“Sorry, Esme.”.All she could do for all of them was be herself, here and now, as hard as she could.She stuck out a hand.A few yards away the unicorn hit an invisible wall. Its legs flailed as it tried to stop, its body contorted in pain, and it slid the rest of the way to Granny’s feet on its back.“Gytha,” said Granny, as the beast tried to get upright, “you’ll take off your stockings and knot ‘em into a halter and pass it to me carefully.”“Esme...”“What?”“Ain’t got no stockings on, Esme.”
Some were going to die. She’d sensed their future deaths . . . the deaths of Esme Weatherwax. And couldn’t save them, because chance did not work like that.
On a million hillsides the girl ran, on a million bridges the girl chose, on a million paths the woman stood. ..
All different, all one“What about the lovely red and white pair I gave you on Hogswatchnight? I knitted ‘em myself. You know how I hates knitting.”
“Well, it’s a warm night. I likes to, you know, let the air circulate.”
“I had the devil of a time with the heels.”
“Sorry, Esme.”.All she could do for all of them was be herself, here and now, as hard as she could.She stuck out a hand.A few yards away the unicorn hit an invisible wall. Its legs flailed as it tried to stop, its body contorted in pain, and it slid the rest of the way to Granny’s feet on its back.“Gytha,” said Granny, as the beast tried to get upright, “you’ll take off your stockings and knot ‘em into a halter and pass it to me carefully.”“Esme...”“What?”“Ain’t got no stockings on, Esme.”
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