Brett Favre 98jasper johns TargetLady on a Balcony by Albert EdelfeltBoats in Harbour by Albert Edelfelt
good on camera and, you'll excuse me, never good from the rear view.
And I must ask because everyone wants to know: What about that Narciso Rodriguez dress in Grant Park? Wonkette called it "hell-colored." Sixty-five percent of those polled by People.com said they hated the dress. Tight satin? Beading? The obi waist? The weird little cardigan? Mrs. Obama, black with red is too jarring a color combination for a first lady. It's too dramatic. It recalls an eerie portrait by Goya or a costume from Tosca or Carmen. All too fiery when we want you to soothe. Especially in an image that will be beamed around the world and live online forever.Like Kennedy, you clearly understand the power of clothes to telegraph messages. In the midst of Sarah Palin's Wardrobegate, you wore wore inexpensive J. Crew separates on The Tonight Show, telling
By now, I imagine you must find the comparisons to Jacqueline Kennedy flattering but tiring. At 44, you will be the youngest first lady since Camelot; the comparisons are inevitable. That doesn't make them accurate.
Friday, November 28, 2008
Neiman The Great Secretariat
Neiman The Great SecretariatNeiman The Golden BearNeiman The FinishNeiman The Equestrianne
fall cutting into his temple. Every inch of him ached, and the place where Killing
Curse had hit him
felt like the bruise of an iron-clad punch. He did not stir, but he remained exactly where
he had fallen, with "You see?" screeched Voldemort over the tumult. "Harry Potter is dead by my hand, and no man alive can threaten me now! Watch! Crucio!"
Harry had been expecting it, knew his body would not be allowed to remain unsullied upon the forest floor; it must be subjected
to humiliation to prove Voldemort's victory. He was lifted into the air, and it took all his determination to remain limp, yet the pain he
expected did not come. He was thrown once, twice, three times into the air. His glasses flew off and he
fall cutting into his temple. Every inch of him ached, and the place where Killing
Curse had hit him
felt like the bruise of an iron-clad punch. He did not stir, but he remained exactly where
he had fallen, with "You see?" screeched Voldemort over the tumult. "Harry Potter is dead by my hand, and no man alive can threaten me now! Watch! Crucio!"
Harry had been expecting it, knew his body would not be allowed to remain unsullied upon the forest floor; it must be subjected
to humiliation to prove Voldemort's victory. He was lifted into the air, and it took all his determination to remain limp, yet the pain he
expected did not come. He was thrown once, twice, three times into the air. His glasses flew off and he
Thursday, November 27, 2008
Gauguin Snow Rue Carcel
Gauguin Snow Rue CarcelGauguin Shepherd and Shepherdess in a MeadowGauguin Rowan BouquetGauguin Rouen Suburb
them ever again. Don't you get it? I was ready to die to stop you from hurting these people - "
"But you did not!"
" - I meant to, and that's what did it. I've done what my mother did. They're protected from you. Haven't you noticed how none of the spells you put on them are binding? You can't torture them. You can't touch them. You don't learn from your mistakes, Riddle, do you?"
"You dare -" Voldemort did not speak, but powled in a circle, and Harry knew that he kept him temporarily mesmerized at bay, held back by the faintest possibility that Harry might indeed know a final secret. . . .
"Yes, I dare," said Harry. "I know things you don't know, Tom Riddle. I know lots of important things that you don't. Want to hear some, before you make another big mistake?"
them ever again. Don't you get it? I was ready to die to stop you from hurting these people - "
"But you did not!"
" - I meant to, and that's what did it. I've done what my mother did. They're protected from you. Haven't you noticed how none of the spells you put on them are binding? You can't torture them. You can't touch them. You don't learn from your mistakes, Riddle, do you?"
"You dare -" Voldemort did not speak, but powled in a circle, and Harry knew that he kept him temporarily mesmerized at bay, held back by the faintest possibility that Harry might indeed know a final secret. . . .
"Yes, I dare," said Harry. "I know things you don't know, Tom Riddle. I know lots of important things that you don't. Want to hear some, before you make another big mistake?"
Adams An August Sunset
Adams An August SunsetKlee Villa RKlee The Rose GardenKlee The Pretty Gardener
don't understand."
"Lord Voldemort's soul, maimed as it is, cannot bear close contact with a soul like Harry's. Like a tongue on frozen steel, like flesh in flame – "
"Souls? We were talking of minds!"
"You refuse to tell me everything, yet you expect that small service of me!" snarled Snape, and real anger flared in the thin face now. "You take a great deal for granted, Dumbledore! Perhaps I have changed my mind!"
"In the case of Harry and Lord Voldemort, to speak of one is to speak of the other."
Dumbledore glanced around to make sure that they were alone. They were close by the Forbidden Forest now, but there was no sign of anyone near them.
"After you have killed me, Severus – "
don't understand."
"Lord Voldemort's soul, maimed as it is, cannot bear close contact with a soul like Harry's. Like a tongue on frozen steel, like flesh in flame – "
"Souls? We were talking of minds!"
"You refuse to tell me everything, yet you expect that small service of me!" snarled Snape, and real anger flared in the thin face now. "You take a great deal for granted, Dumbledore! Perhaps I have changed my mind!"
"In the case of Harry and Lord Voldemort, to speak of one is to speak of the other."
Dumbledore glanced around to make sure that they were alone. They were close by the Forbidden Forest now, but there was no sign of anyone near them.
"After you have killed me, Severus – "
Wednesday, November 26, 2008
Lempicka Mother Superior
Lempicka Mother SuperiorLempicka Le BretonneLempicka Lady in BlueLempicka Kizette Communiante
Snape stepped nearer, and his eyes flitted over Professor McGonagall into the air around her, as if he knew that Harry was there. Harry held his wand up too, ready to attack.
"I was under the impression," said Snape, "That Alecto had apprehended an intruder."
Snape pretended not to have heard her. His eyes were still probing the air all about her, and he was moving gradually closer, with an air of hardly noticing what he was doing. "I did not know that it was your night to patrol the corridors Minerva."
"Really?" said Professor McGonagall. "And what gave you that impression?"
Snape mad a slight flexing movement of his left arm, where the Dark Mark was branded into his skin.
"Oh, but naturally," said Professor McGonagall. "You Death Eaters have your own private means of communication, I forgot."
Snape stepped nearer, and his eyes flitted over Professor McGonagall into the air around her, as if he knew that Harry was there. Harry held his wand up too, ready to attack.
"I was under the impression," said Snape, "That Alecto had apprehended an intruder."
Snape pretended not to have heard her. His eyes were still probing the air all about her, and he was moving gradually closer, with an air of hardly noticing what he was doing. "I did not know that it was your night to patrol the corridors Minerva."
"Really?" said Professor McGonagall. "And what gave you that impression?"
Snape mad a slight flexing movement of his left arm, where the Dark Mark was branded into his skin.
"Oh, but naturally," said Professor McGonagall. "You Death Eaters have your own private means of communication, I forgot."
Monday, November 24, 2008
Knight A Beaumont-le-Roger
Knight A Beaumont-le-RogerKnight A Sunny Morning at Beaumont-Le RogerCaravaggio The Crucifixion of St. AndrewPerrault An Interesting Story
Sharebuilder allows you to buy stocks in fractional amounts, making it much easier to invest. It’s not exactly a new concept — Direct Purchase Plans and Direct(known as DRIPs) provide the opportunity to buy smaller portions of a company than a single share. However, most DRIPs have certain requirements that can make them harder to use: you often already need to own a certain amount of stock in a company to get started. With Sharebuilder, as long as you have money, you can buy as much — or as little — stock as you want.The U.S. Securities and Exchange Commission
I consider the . Personally, I don’t use it all that often — but there is an amazing amount of information available if you’re willing to sift through it. All publicly traded companies are required to file a number of different documents with the SEC and almost all of those filings are available online. The system has a bit of a learning curve, but you can get annual reports, information on a company’s securities and far more without a filter of news reporting or public relations spin.
Sharebuilder allows you to buy stocks in fractional amounts, making it much easier to invest. It’s not exactly a new concept — Direct Purchase Plans and Direct(known as DRIPs) provide the opportunity to buy smaller portions of a company than a single share. However, most DRIPs have certain requirements that can make them harder to use: you often already need to own a certain amount of stock in a company to get started. With Sharebuilder, as long as you have money, you can buy as much — or as little — stock as you want.The U.S. Securities and Exchange Commission
I consider the . Personally, I don’t use it all that often — but there is an amazing amount of information available if you’re willing to sift through it. All publicly traded companies are required to file a number of different documents with the SEC and almost all of those filings are available online. The system has a bit of a learning curve, but you can get annual reports, information on a company’s securities and far more without a filter of news reporting or public relations spin.
hassam The Sonata
hassam The Sonatahassam The Room of Flowershassam The Manhattan Clubhassam The Goldfish Window
increasingly capable camera phones, Obamthe president-elect's movements and important announcements during the transition to the White House. The forthcoming Obama White House will be treated like a reality TV show or West Wing, broadcast 24x7 on the Internet.
Other presidents, including George W. Bush, have been similarly tracked online, but the Obama presidency brings a more finely tuned understanding to this phenomenon. Obama's pre-inauguration site, Change.gov, is providing its own play-by-play of Obama's activities, including briefly detailing the deli visit with a photo slideshow.
Posting its own version of events is a way for the Obama team to gain some control over the chaos and messaging in the midst of the incessant Obama lifestreaming that will occur over the next four or eight years. The disciplined, focused, and modulated Obama has already had a lot of practice on a big stage. Now the spotlight is all on him. Every gesture and word from Obama accessible to the public will be recorded and posted online, from a multitude of sources and points of views. will be endlessly scrutinized and measured for meaning.
increasingly capable camera phones, Obamthe president-elect's movements and important announcements during the transition to the White House. The forthcoming Obama White House will be treated like a reality TV show or West Wing, broadcast 24x7 on the Internet.
Other presidents, including George W. Bush, have been similarly tracked online, but the Obama presidency brings a more finely tuned understanding to this phenomenon. Obama's pre-inauguration site, Change.gov, is providing its own play-by-play of Obama's activities, including briefly detailing the deli visit with a photo slideshow.
Posting its own version of events is a way for the Obama team to gain some control over the chaos and messaging in the midst of the incessant Obama lifestreaming that will occur over the next four or eight years. The disciplined, focused, and modulated Obama has already had a lot of practice on a big stage. Now the spotlight is all on him. Every gesture and word from Obama accessible to the public will be recorded and posted online, from a multitude of sources and points of views. will be endlessly scrutinized and measured for meaning.
Sunday, November 23, 2008
guan spring beauty
guan spring beautyguan Rising beautyguan rest timeguan Preparing II
a lot of cases to keep track of spending without even necessarily down. Today, we have several types of accounts, in many cases at different institutions, with new Wouldn't it be great to be able to remember everything? To see all our most important moments, all the priceless encounters, adventures and triumphs? What if memory never faded, but instead could be retrieved at any time, as reliably as films in a video store?
"No one can imagine what it's really like," says Jill Price, 42, "not even the scientists who are studying me."
The Californian, who has an almost perfect memory, is trying to describe how it feels. She starts with a small demonstration of her ability. "When were you born?" she asks.
She hears the date and says: "Oh, that was a Wednesday. There was a cold snap in Los Angeles two days later, and my mother and I made soup."
Price is sitting in The Grill, a restaurant in Beverly Hills. She's a heavyset woman with blonde hair and big blue eyes. She wears large amounts of jewelry -- types of debt and monthly payments to keep track of, so take a look at Mint’s free and start tracking your spending automatically to find areas where you can save money.
a lot of cases to keep track of spending without even necessarily down. Today, we have several types of accounts, in many cases at different institutions, with new Wouldn't it be great to be able to remember everything? To see all our most important moments, all the priceless encounters, adventures and triumphs? What if memory never faded, but instead could be retrieved at any time, as reliably as films in a video store?
"No one can imagine what it's really like," says Jill Price, 42, "not even the scientists who are studying me."
The Californian, who has an almost perfect memory, is trying to describe how it feels. She starts with a small demonstration of her ability. "When were you born?" she asks.
She hears the date and says: "Oh, that was a Wednesday. There was a cold snap in Los Angeles two days later, and my mother and I made soup."
Price is sitting in The Grill, a restaurant in Beverly Hills. She's a heavyset woman with blonde hair and big blue eyes. She wears large amounts of jewelry -- types of debt and monthly payments to keep track of, so take a look at Mint’s free and start tracking your spending automatically to find areas where you can save money.
Friday, November 21, 2008
Raphael The Saint Cecilia Altarpiece
Raphael The Saint Cecilia AltarpieceGerome The Reception of the Siamese AmbassadorsGerome Thumbs DownGerome Pelt Merchant of Cairo
found that preschoolers tended to like or reject the same fruits and vegetables their parents liked or didn’t like. And other research has shown girls are more likely to be picky eaters if their mothers don’t like vegetables.
Given this powerful effect, parents who are trying to lose weight should be aware of how their dieting habits can influence a child’s perceptions eating. In one study of 5-year-old girls, one child noted that dieting involved drinking chocolate milkshakes — her mother was using Slim-Fast drinks. Another child said dieting meant “you fix food but you don’t eat it.”
A 2005 report in the Psychology found that mothers who were preoccupied with their weight and eating were more likely to restrict foods for their daughters or encourage them to lose weight. Daughters of dieters were also more likely to try diets as well. The problem is, restrictive diets don’t work for most people and often lead to binge eating and weight of chronic dieting. “Most mothers don’t think their kids are soaking up this information, but they are,” Dr. Birch said. “They’re teaching it to their daughters even though it doesn’t work for them.”
Serving boring vegetables Calorie-counting parents often serve plain steamed
found that preschoolers tended to like or reject the same fruits and vegetables their parents liked or didn’t like. And other research has shown girls are more likely to be picky eaters if their mothers don’t like vegetables.
Given this powerful effect, parents who are trying to lose weight should be aware of how their dieting habits can influence a child’s perceptions eating. In one study of 5-year-old girls, one child noted that dieting involved drinking chocolate milkshakes — her mother was using Slim-Fast drinks. Another child said dieting meant “you fix food but you don’t eat it.”
A 2005 report in the Psychology found that mothers who were preoccupied with their weight and eating were more likely to restrict foods for their daughters or encourage them to lose weight. Daughters of dieters were also more likely to try diets as well. The problem is, restrictive diets don’t work for most people and often lead to binge eating and weight of chronic dieting. “Most mothers don’t think their kids are soaking up this information, but they are,” Dr. Birch said. “They’re teaching it to their daughters even though it doesn’t work for them.”
Serving boring vegetables Calorie-counting parents often serve plain steamed
Repin Portrait of Leo Tolstoy
Repin Portrait of Leo TolstoyChase A Sunny Day at Shinnecock BayRemington Prospecting for Cattle RangeChase The Potato Patch
as he was bundled out of the tent: all he could make out were the blurred shapes of four or five people wrestling Ron and Hermione outside too.
"Get -- off - her!" Ron shouted. There was the unmistakable sound of knuckles hitting flesh: Ron grunted in pain and Hermione screamed, "No! Leave him alone, leave him alone!"
Harry was thrown face down onto the ground. A thud told him that Ron had been cast down beside him. They could hear footsteps and crashes; the men were pushing over chairs inside the tent as they searched.
"Your boyfriend's going to have worse than that done to him if he's on my list," said the horribly familiar, rasping voice. "Delicious girl... what a treat . . . I do enjoy the softness of the skin. . . ."
Harry's stomach turned over. He knew who this was, Fenrit Greyback, the werewolf who was permitted to wear Death Eater robes in return for his hired savagery.
"Search the tent!" said another voice.
as he was bundled out of the tent: all he could make out were the blurred shapes of four or five people wrestling Ron and Hermione outside too.
"Get -- off - her!" Ron shouted. There was the unmistakable sound of knuckles hitting flesh: Ron grunted in pain and Hermione screamed, "No! Leave him alone, leave him alone!"
Harry was thrown face down onto the ground. A thud told him that Ron had been cast down beside him. They could hear footsteps and crashes; the men were pushing over chairs inside the tent as they searched.
"Your boyfriend's going to have worse than that done to him if he's on my list," said the horribly familiar, rasping voice. "Delicious girl... what a treat . . . I do enjoy the softness of the skin. . . ."
Harry's stomach turned over. He knew who this was, Fenrit Greyback, the werewolf who was permitted to wear Death Eater robes in return for his hired savagery.
"Search the tent!" said another voice.
Stewart Study Of A Nude Woman
Stewart Study Of A Nude WomanStewart Portrait Of MrsStewart The GladeChase Chase Summertime
I open at the close…But what was the close? Why couldn't he have the stone now? If only he had the stone, he could ask Dumbledore these questions in person…and Harry murmured words to the Snitch in the darkness, trying everything, even Parseltongue, but the golden ball would not open…
And the wand, the Elder Wand, where was that hidden? Where was Voldemort searching now? Harry wished his scar would burn and show him Voldemort's thoughts, don't believe in this, do you?"
Harry looked up, Ron hesitated.
"I dunno…I mean…bits of it sort of fit together," said Ron awkwardly, "But when you look at the whole thing…" He took a deep breath. "I think we're supposed to get rid of Horcruxes, Harry. That's what Dumbledore told us to do. Maybe…maybe
I open at the close…But what was the close? Why couldn't he have the stone now? If only he had the stone, he could ask Dumbledore these questions in person…and Harry murmured words to the Snitch in the darkness, trying everything, even Parseltongue, but the golden ball would not open…
And the wand, the Elder Wand, where was that hidden? Where was Voldemort searching now? Harry wished his scar would burn and show him Voldemort's thoughts, don't believe in this, do you?"
Harry looked up, Ron hesitated.
"I dunno…I mean…bits of it sort of fit together," said Ron awkwardly, "But when you look at the whole thing…" He took a deep breath. "I think we're supposed to get rid of Horcruxes, Harry. That's what Dumbledore told us to do. Maybe…maybe
Wednesday, November 19, 2008
Gockel Downtown VIII
Gockel Downtown VIIIGockel Downtown VIIGockel Dity Dynamics VGockel Deep Blue Dazzler
Yeah, a bunch of Death Eaters cornered him, Bill said but he fought his way out. He's on the run now just like us." Ron scratched his chin thoughtfully with the end of his wand. "You don't reckon Kingsley could have sent that doe?"
"Oh yeah..."
They moved farther along the hedge, away from the tent and Hermione.
"Harry... you don't reckon it could've been Dumbledore?"
"Dumbledore what?"
Ron looked a little embarrassed, but said in a low voice, "Dumbledore ... the doe? I mean," Ron was watching Harry out of the corners of his eyes, "he had the real sword last, didn't he?
Harry did not laugh at Ron, because he understood too well the
Yeah, a bunch of Death Eaters cornered him, Bill said but he fought his way out. He's on the run now just like us." Ron scratched his chin thoughtfully with the end of his wand. "You don't reckon Kingsley could have sent that doe?"
"Oh yeah..."
They moved farther along the hedge, away from the tent and Hermione.
"Harry... you don't reckon it could've been Dumbledore?"
"Dumbledore what?"
Ron looked a little embarrassed, but said in a low voice, "Dumbledore ... the doe? I mean," Ron was watching Harry out of the corners of his eyes, "he had the real sword last, didn't he?
Harry did not laugh at Ron, because he understood too well the
Gockel Riotous Tulips III
Gockel Riotous Tulips IIIGockel Riotous Tulips IIGockel Riotous Tulips IGockel Riotous Red Bloom
The holly and phoenix wand was nearly severed in two. One fragile strand of phoenix feather kept both pieces hanging together. The wood had splintered apart completely. Harry took it into his hands as though it was a living thing that had suffered a terrible injury. He could not think properly: Everything was a blur of panic and fear. Then he held out the want to Hermione.
"Expelliarmus!" Hermione's wand gave a little jerk, but did not leave her hand. The feeble attempt at magic was too much for Harry's wand, which split into two again. He stared at it, aghast, unable to take in what he was seeing ... the wand that had survived so much ...
"Mend it. Please."
"Harry, I don't think, when it's broken like this --"
"Please, Hermione, try!"
"R-Reparo."
The dangling half of the wand resealed itself. Harry held it up.
"Lumos!"
The wand sparked feebly, then went out. Harry pointed it at Hermione.
The holly and phoenix wand was nearly severed in two. One fragile strand of phoenix feather kept both pieces hanging together. The wood had splintered apart completely. Harry took it into his hands as though it was a living thing that had suffered a terrible injury. He could not think properly: Everything was a blur of panic and fear. Then he held out the want to Hermione.
"Expelliarmus!" Hermione's wand gave a little jerk, but did not leave her hand. The feeble attempt at magic was too much for Harry's wand, which split into two again. He stared at it, aghast, unable to take in what he was seeing ... the wand that had survived so much ...
"Mend it. Please."
"Harry, I don't think, when it's broken like this --"
"Please, Hermione, try!"
"R-Reparo."
The dangling half of the wand resealed itself. Harry held it up.
"Lumos!"
The wand sparked feebly, then went out. Harry pointed it at Hermione.
Li-Leger Passage to India
Li-Leger Passage to IndiaLi-Leger Painter's Garden IILi-Leger Painter's Garden ILi-Leger Oriental Journey II
dark, not to mention extremely dirty. Thick dust crunched beneath their feet, and Harry's nose detected, underneath the dank and mildewed smell, something worse, like meat gone bad. He wondered when was the last time anyone had been inside Bathilda's house to check whether she was coping. She seemed to have forgotten that she could do magic, too, for she lit the candles clumsily by hand, her trailing lace cuff in constant danger of catching fire.
The last surface on which Harry spotted a candle was a bow-fronted chest of drawers on which there stood a large number of photographs. When the wavered on their dusty glass and silver. He saw a few tiny movements from the
"Let me do that," offered Harry, and he took the matches from her. She stood watching him as he finished lighting the candle stubs that stood on saucers around the room, perched precariously on stacks of books and on side tables crammed with cracked and moldy cups.
dark, not to mention extremely dirty. Thick dust crunched beneath their feet, and Harry's nose detected, underneath the dank and mildewed smell, something worse, like meat gone bad. He wondered when was the last time anyone had been inside Bathilda's house to check whether she was coping. She seemed to have forgotten that she could do magic, too, for she lit the candles clumsily by hand, her trailing lace cuff in constant danger of catching fire.
The last surface on which Harry spotted a candle was a bow-fronted chest of drawers on which there stood a large number of photographs. When the wavered on their dusty glass and silver. He saw a few tiny movements from the
"Let me do that," offered Harry, and he took the matches from her. She stood watching him as he finished lighting the candle stubs that stood on saucers around the room, perched precariously on stacks of books and on side tables crammed with cracked and moldy cups.
Tuesday, November 18, 2008
Leroy Neiman Winter Olympic Skiing painting
Leroy Neiman Winter Olympic Skiing painting
"I couldn't . . . make one." he panted, clutching the stitch in his side. "Wouldn't . . . come."
Their expressions of consternation and disappointment made Harry feel ashamed. It had been a nightmarish experience, seeing the dementors gliding out of the must in the distance and realizing, as the paralyzing cold choked his lungs and a distant screaming filled his ears, that he was not going to be
Leroy Neiman Ryder Cup paintingLeroy Neiman 37th Ryder Cup paintingLeroy Neiman 18th at Valhalla painting
protect himself. It had taken all Harry's willpower to uproot himself from the spot and run, leaving the eyeless dementors to glide amongst the Muggles who might not be able to see them, but would assuredly feel the despair they cast wherever they went.
"So we still haven't got any food."
"Shut up, Ron," snapped Hermione. "Harry, what happened? Why do you think you couldn't make your Patronus? You managed perfectly yesterday!"
"I don't know."
He sat low in one of Perkins's old armchairs, feeling more humiliated by the moment. He was afraid that something had gone wrong inside him. Yesterday seemed a long time ago: Today me might have been thirteen years
"I couldn't . . . make one." he panted, clutching the stitch in his side. "Wouldn't . . . come."
Their expressions of consternation and disappointment made Harry feel ashamed. It had been a nightmarish experience, seeing the dementors gliding out of the must in the distance and realizing, as the paralyzing cold choked his lungs and a distant screaming filled his ears, that he was not going to be
Leroy Neiman Ryder Cup paintingLeroy Neiman 37th Ryder Cup paintingLeroy Neiman 18th at Valhalla painting
protect himself. It had taken all Harry's willpower to uproot himself from the spot and run, leaving the eyeless dementors to glide amongst the Muggles who might not be able to see them, but would assuredly feel the despair they cast wherever they went.
"So we still haven't got any food."
"Shut up, Ron," snapped Hermione. "Harry, what happened? Why do you think you couldn't make your Patronus? You managed perfectly yesterday!"
"I don't know."
He sat low in one of Perkins's old armchairs, feeling more humiliated by the moment. He was afraid that something had gone wrong inside him. Yesterday seemed a long time ago: Today me might have been thirteen years
Tamara de Lempicka Portrait of Madame painting
Tamara de Lempicka Portrait of Madame paintingEric Wallis Girls at the Beach painting
"Cave Inimicum," Hermione finished with a skyward flourish. "That's as much as I can do. At the very least, we should know they're coming; I can't guarantee it will keep out Vol –"
"Don't say the name!" Ron cut across her, his voice harsh.
Harry and Hermione looked at , partly to remind her that he was there.
"Got – got what?" she said with a little start.
"What did we just go through all that for? The locket! Where's the locket?"
"You got it?" shouted Ron, raising himself a little higher on his pillows. "No one tells me anything! Blimey, you could have mentioned it!"
"Well, we were running for our lives from the Death Eaters, weren't we?" said Hermione. "Here."
"Cave Inimicum," Hermione finished with a skyward flourish. "That's as much as I can do. At the very least, we should know they're coming; I can't guarantee it will keep out Vol –"
"Don't say the name!" Ron cut across her, his voice harsh.
Harry and Hermione looked at , partly to remind her that he was there.
"Got – got what?" she said with a little start.
"What did we just go through all that for? The locket! Where's the locket?"
"You got it?" shouted Ron, raising himself a little higher on his pillows. "No one tells me anything! Blimey, you could have mentioned it!"
"Well, we were running for our lives from the Death Eaters, weren't we?" said Hermione. "Here."
Sunday, November 16, 2008
Edward Hopper Western Motel painting
Edward Hopper Western Motel painting
and muttered the plan to himself for another ten minutes. As he extinguished his wand, however, he was thinking not of Polyjuice Potion, Puking Pastilles, or the navy blue robes of Magical Maintenance; he though of Gregorovitch the wandmaker, and how long he could hope to remain hidden while Voldemort sought him so determinedly.
Dawn seemed to follow midnight with indecent haste.
Claude Monet Regatta At Argenteuil painting
"Nicely done, Hermione," said Ron, emerging behind a bin beside the theater door as Harry took off the Invisibility Cloak. Together they carried the little witch into the dark passageway that led backstage. Hermione plucked a few hairs from
Rembrandt Rembrandt night watch painting
running late, Mr. Magical Maintenance will be here any second."
They hurried to close the door on the real Mafalda; Harry and Ron threw the Invisibility Cloak over themselves but Hermione remained in view, waiting. Seconds later there was another pop, and a small, ferrety looking wizard appeared before
and muttered the plan to himself for another ten minutes. As he extinguished his wand, however, he was thinking not of Polyjuice Potion, Puking Pastilles, or the navy blue robes of Magical Maintenance; he though of Gregorovitch the wandmaker, and how long he could hope to remain hidden while Voldemort sought him so determinedly.
Dawn seemed to follow midnight with indecent haste.
Claude Monet Regatta At Argenteuil painting
"Nicely done, Hermione," said Ron, emerging behind a bin beside the theater door as Harry took off the Invisibility Cloak. Together they carried the little witch into the dark passageway that led backstage. Hermione plucked a few hairs from
Rembrandt Rembrandt night watch painting
running late, Mr. Magical Maintenance will be here any second."
They hurried to close the door on the real Mafalda; Harry and Ron threw the Invisibility Cloak over themselves but Hermione remained in view, waiting. Seconds later there was another pop, and a small, ferrety looking wizard appeared before
John Collier Lilith painting
John Collier Lilith paintingGustav Klimt lady with fan paintingClaude Monet The Water Lily Pond painting
the plan works, we will have," Harry continued calmly.
"I don't know, Harry, I don't know … There are an awful lot of things that could go wrong, so much relies on chance … "
They had spent the previous four weeks taking it in turns to don the Invisibility Cloak and spy on the official entrance to the Ministry, which Ron, thanks to Mr. Weasley, had known since childhood. They had tailed Ministry workers on their way in, eavesdropped on their conversations, and learned by
That'll be true even if we spend another three months preparing," said Harry. "It's time to act."
He could tell from Ron's and Hermione's faces that they were scared; he was not particularly confident himself, and yet he was sure the time had come to put their plan into operation.
the plan works, we will have," Harry continued calmly.
"I don't know, Harry, I don't know … There are an awful lot of things that could go wrong, so much relies on chance … "
They had spent the previous four weeks taking it in turns to don the Invisibility Cloak and spy on the official entrance to the Ministry, which Ron, thanks to Mr. Weasley, had known since childhood. They had tailed Ministry workers on their way in, eavesdropped on their conversations, and learned by
That'll be true even if we spend another three months preparing," said Harry. "It's time to act."
He could tell from Ron's and Hermione's faces that they were scared; he was not particularly confident himself, and yet he was sure the time had come to put their plan into operation.
Unknown Artist Apple Tree with Red Fruit painting
Unknown Artist Apple Tree with Red Fruit paintingSalvador Dali Sleep paintingJoseph Mallord William Turner Fishermen at Sea painting
Phineas Nigellus," Hermione explained as she threw the bag onto the kitchen table with the usual sonorous, clanking crash.
"Snape could send Phineas Nigellus to look inside this house for him," Hermione explained to Ron as she resumed her seat. "But let him try it now, all Phineas Nigellus will be able to see is the inside of my handbag." "Good thinking!" said Ron, looking impressed. "Thank you," smiled Hermione, pulling her soup toward her. "So, Harry, what else happened today?"
"Sorry?" said Ron, but Harry understood. The painted image of Phineas Nigellus Black was able to travel between his portrait in Grimmauld Place and the one that hung in the headmaster's office at Hogwarts: the circular cower-top room where Snape was no doubt sitting right now, in triumphant possession of Dumbledore's collection of delicate, silver magical instruments, the stone Pensieve, the Sorting Hat and, unless it ad been moved elsewhere, the sword of Gryffindor.
Phineas Nigellus," Hermione explained as she threw the bag onto the kitchen table with the usual sonorous, clanking crash.
"Snape could send Phineas Nigellus to look inside this house for him," Hermione explained to Ron as she resumed her seat. "But let him try it now, all Phineas Nigellus will be able to see is the inside of my handbag." "Good thinking!" said Ron, looking impressed. "Thank you," smiled Hermione, pulling her soup toward her. "So, Harry, what else happened today?"
"Sorry?" said Ron, but Harry understood. The painted image of Phineas Nigellus Black was able to travel between his portrait in Grimmauld Place and the one that hung in the headmaster's office at Hogwarts: the circular cower-top room where Snape was no doubt sitting right now, in triumphant possession of Dumbledore's collection of delicate, silver magical instruments, the stone Pensieve, the Sorting Hat and, unless it ad been moved elsewhere, the sword of Gryffindor.
Edward Hopper Ground Swell painting
Edward Hopper Ground Swell paintingEdward Hopper Western Motel paintingEdgar Degas Dancers in Pink painting
Dumbledore had both lost loved ones. He was in the process of lowering the newspaper, to ask Ron's and Hermione's opinions, when a deafening crack echoed around the kitchen.
Mundungus scrambled up and pulled out his wand; Hermione, however, was too quick for him. "Expelliarmus!" Mundungus's wand soared into the air, and Hermione caught it. Wild-eyed, Mundungus dived for the stairs. Ron rugby-tackled him and Mundungus
For the first time in three days Harry had forgotten all about Kreacher. His immediate thought was that Lupin had burst back into the room, and for a split second, he did not take in the mass of struggling limbs that had appeared out of thin air right beside his chair. He hurried to his feet as Kreacher disentangled himself and, bowing low to Harry, croaked, "Kreacher has returned with the thief Mundungus Fletcher, Master."
Dumbledore had both lost loved ones. He was in the process of lowering the newspaper, to ask Ron's and Hermione's opinions, when a deafening crack echoed around the kitchen.
Mundungus scrambled up and pulled out his wand; Hermione, however, was too quick for him. "Expelliarmus!" Mundungus's wand soared into the air, and Hermione caught it. Wild-eyed, Mundungus dived for the stairs. Ron rugby-tackled him and Mundungus
For the first time in three days Harry had forgotten all about Kreacher. His immediate thought was that Lupin had burst back into the room, and for a split second, he did not take in the mass of struggling limbs that had appeared out of thin air right beside his chair. He hurried to his feet as Kreacher disentangled himself and, bowing low to Harry, croaked, "Kreacher has returned with the thief Mundungus Fletcher, Master."
Wednesday, November 12, 2008
Herbert James Draper Lament for Icarus painting
Herbert James Draper Lament for Icarus paintingGeorge Inness The Trout Brook paintingGeorge Inness The Delaware Water Gap painting
I tell you, that's not what happened!" said Doge, but Auntie Muriel steamrollered on, still addressing Harry.
Squibs were usually shipped off to Muggle schools and encouraged to integrate into the Muggle community… much kinder than trying to find them a place in the Wizarding world, where they must always be second class, but naturally Kendra Dumbledore wouldn't have dreamed of letting her daughter go to a Muggle school –"
poor to permit her –"
"- to permit her to leave the house?" cackled Muriel. "And yet she was never taken to St. Mungo's and no Healer was ever summoned to see her!"
"Really, Muriel, how can you possibly know whether –"
"For your information, Elphias, my cousin Lancelot was a
I tell you, that's not what happened!" said Doge, but Auntie Muriel steamrollered on, still addressing Harry.
Squibs were usually shipped off to Muggle schools and encouraged to integrate into the Muggle community… much kinder than trying to find them a place in the Wizarding world, where they must always be second class, but naturally Kendra Dumbledore wouldn't have dreamed of letting her daughter go to a Muggle school –"
poor to permit her –"
"- to permit her to leave the house?" cackled Muriel. "And yet she was never taken to St. Mungo's and no Healer was ever summoned to see her!"
"Really, Muriel, how can you possibly know whether –"
"For your information, Elphias, my cousin Lancelot was a
Juan Gris The Open Window painting
Juan Gris The Open Window paintingJuan Gris The Guitar paintingJuan Gris Man in the Cafe painting
revelry became more and more uncontained. Fred and George had long since disappeared into the darkness with a pair of Fleur's cousins; Charlie, Hagrid, and a squat wizard in a purple porkpie hat were singing "Odo the Hero" in the corner.
his brains, Harry suddenly realized that this was Elphias Doge, member of the Order of the Phoenix and the writer of Dumbledore's obituary. Harry approached him. "May I sit down?"
Wandering through the crowd so as to escape a drunken uncle of Ron's who seemed unsure whether or not Harry was his son, Harry spotted an old wizard sitting alone at a table. His cloud of white hair made him look rather like an aged dandelion clock and was topped by a moth-eaten fez. He was vaguely familiar: Racking
revelry became more and more uncontained. Fred and George had long since disappeared into the darkness with a pair of Fleur's cousins; Charlie, Hagrid, and a squat wizard in a purple porkpie hat were singing "Odo the Hero" in the corner.
his brains, Harry suddenly realized that this was Elphias Doge, member of the Order of the Phoenix and the writer of Dumbledore's obituary. Harry approached him. "May I sit down?"
Wandering through the crowd so as to escape a drunken uncle of Ron's who seemed unsure whether or not Harry was his son, Harry spotted an old wizard sitting alone at a table. His cloud of white hair made him look rather like an aged dandelion clock and was topped by a moth-eaten fez. He was vaguely familiar: Racking
Pablo Picasso Three Dancers painting
Pablo Picasso Three Dancers paintingPablo Picasso Seated Bather paintingPablo Picasso Mandolin and Guitar painting
was a woman from The Daily News telling me she was interested in me! So I thought I'd better tell her something.
What came out was, "I'm thinking about breaking the Guinness Book of World Records for the Fastest Talking Female." The newspaper article came out the next day, and she included my parting remarks about trying to break the world's Fastest-Talking Female record. At about 5:00 P.M. that afternoon, I received a call from CNN asking me to go on the Larry King Live Show. They wanted me to try to break the record. They told me they would send a limo t Two occurrences happened that were my go ahead signs. One, when someone turned around in a movie lineup and complimented me on my sense of , after hearing me crack jokes to my friends. He suggested I audition for the Comic Strip. Another happened at a car convention, where a fortune- teller analyzed my handuse it to make money.
was a woman from The Daily News telling me she was interested in me! So I thought I'd better tell her something.
What came out was, "I'm thinking about breaking the Guinness Book of World Records for the Fastest Talking Female." The newspaper article came out the next day, and she included my parting remarks about trying to break the world's Fastest-Talking Female record. At about 5:00 P.M. that afternoon, I received a call from CNN asking me to go on the Larry King Live Show. They wanted me to try to break the record. They told me they would send a limo t Two occurrences happened that were my go ahead signs. One, when someone turned around in a movie lineup and complimented me on my sense of , after hearing me crack jokes to my friends. He suggested I audition for the Comic Strip. Another happened at a car convention, where a fortune- teller analyzed my handuse it to make money.
Tuesday, November 11, 2008
Frederic Remington The Cowboy painting
Frederic Remington The Cowboy paintingFrederic Remington Against the Sunset paintingThomas Kinkade venice painting
him. Perhaps it was simply because it was there that he had survived Voldemort's Killing Curse; now that he was facing the challenge of repeating the feat, Harry was drawn to the place where it had happened, wanting to understand.
This had not occurred to Harry. While he struggled to find a counterargument, Ron spoke up, evidently following his own train of thought. "This R.A.B. person," he said. "You know, the one who stole the real locket?" Hermione nodded.
"Don't you think there's a possibility that Voldemort's keeping a watch on Godric's Hollow?" Hermione asked. "He might expect you to go back and visit your parents' graves once you're free to go wherever you like?"
"He said in his note he was going to destroy it, didn't he?"
him. Perhaps it was simply because it was there that he had survived Voldemort's Killing Curse; now that he was facing the challenge of repeating the feat, Harry was drawn to the place where it had happened, wanting to understand.
This had not occurred to Harry. While he struggled to find a counterargument, Ron spoke up, evidently following his own train of thought. "This R.A.B. person," he said. "You know, the one who stole the real locket?" Hermione nodded.
"Don't you think there's a possibility that Voldemort's keeping a watch on Godric's Hollow?" Hermione asked. "He might expect you to go back and visit your parents' graves once you're free to go wherever you like?"
"He said in his note he was going to destroy it, didn't he?"
Monday, November 10, 2008
childe hassam paintings
childe hassam paintings
Cheri Blum paintings
You need to start plugging into the town." George Miranda had just completed a documentary film about communalism, interviewing Hindus and Muslims of all shades of opinion. Fundamentalists of both religions had instantly sought injunctions banning the film from being shown, and, although the Bombay courts had rejected this request, the case had gone up to the Supreme Court. George, even more stubbly of chin, lank of hair and sprawling of stomach than Salahuddin
Camille Pissarro paintings
Solan, Himachal Pradesh." Changez might have chopped down a walnut-tree, but he had never attempted to cut Salahuddin out of his will. -- The houses at Pali Hill and Scandal Point were excluded from these provisions, however. The former passed to Nasreen Chamchawala outright; the latter became, with immediate effect, the sole property of Kasturbabai, who quickly announced her intention of selling the old house to property developers. The
Cheri Blum paintings
You need to start plugging into the town." George Miranda had just completed a documentary film about communalism, interviewing Hindus and Muslims of all shades of opinion. Fundamentalists of both religions had instantly sought injunctions banning the film from being shown, and, although the Bombay courts had rejected this request, the case had gone up to the Supreme Court. George, even more stubbly of chin, lank of hair and sprawling of stomach than Salahuddin
Camille Pissarro paintings
Solan, Himachal Pradesh." Changez might have chopped down a walnut-tree, but he had never attempted to cut Salahuddin out of his will. -- The houses at Pali Hill and Scandal Point were excluded from these provisions, however. The former passed to Nasreen Chamchawala outright; the latter became, with immediate effect, the sole property of Kasturbabai, who quickly announced her intention of selling the old house to property developers. The
Sunday, November 9, 2008
Edgar Degas dance class painting
Edgar Degas dance class paintingEdgar Degas Ballet Rehearsal paintingEdgar Degas Absinthe painting
reeled towards the place in the Ayesha had first caught his eye; -- and now he felt a slowness come upon him, a great heaviness, and he lay down on the withered dust. Before his eyes closed he felt something brushing at his lips, and saw the little cluster of butterflies struggling to enter his mouth. Then the sea poured over him, and he was in the water beside Ayesha, who had stepped miraculously out of his wife's body . .. "Open," she was crying. "Open wide!" Tentacles of light were flowing from her navel and he chopped at them, chopped, using the side of his hand. "Open," she screamed. "You've come this far, now do the rest." -- How could he hear her voice? -- They were under water, lost in the roaring of the sea, but he could hear her clearly, they could all hear her, that voice like a bell. "Open," she said. He closed.
He was a fortress with clanging gates. -- He was drowning. -- She was drowning, too. He saw the water fill her mouth, heard it begin to gurgle
reeled towards the place in the Ayesha had first caught his eye; -- and now he felt a slowness come upon him, a great heaviness, and he lay down on the withered dust. Before his eyes closed he felt something brushing at his lips, and saw the little cluster of butterflies struggling to enter his mouth. Then the sea poured over him, and he was in the water beside Ayesha, who had stepped miraculously out of his wife's body . .. "Open," she was crying. "Open wide!" Tentacles of light were flowing from her navel and he chopped at them, chopped, using the side of his hand. "Open," she screamed. "You've come this far, now do the rest." -- How could he hear her voice? -- They were under water, lost in the roaring of the sea, but he could hear her clearly, they could all hear her, that voice like a bell. "Open," she said. He closed.
He was a fortress with clanging gates. -- He was drowning. -- She was drowning, too. He saw the water fill her mouth, heard it begin to gurgle
Friday, November 7, 2008
Thomas Kinkade The Rose Garden painting
Thomas Kinkade The Rose Garden paintingCaravaggio Amor Vincit Omnia paintingRaphael Saint George and the Dragon painting
agency, asking that his own anonymity be guarded carefully. "Our client is in a position to state," these releases -- which enjoyed, for a time, an amused vogue among Fleet Street diarists -- cryptically announced, "that his eyes have seen the Glory referred to above. Gibreel is among us at this moment, somewhere in the inner city of London -- probably in Camden, Brickhall, Tower Hamlets or Hackney -- and he will reveal himself soon, perhaps within days or weeks." -- All of this was obscure to the three tall, languid, male attendants in the Fair Winds store (Maslama refused to employ here; "my motto," he was fond of saying, "is that nobody trusts a female to help him with his horn"); which was why none of them could believe their eyes when their hard-nosed employer suddenly underwent a complete change of personality, and rushed over to this wild, unshaven stranger as if he were God Almighty -- with his two-tone patent leather shoes, Armani suit and
agency, asking that his own anonymity be guarded carefully. "Our client is in a position to state," these releases -- which enjoyed, for a time, an amused vogue among Fleet Street diarists -- cryptically announced, "that his eyes have seen the Glory referred to above. Gibreel is among us at this moment, somewhere in the inner city of London -- probably in Camden, Brickhall, Tower Hamlets or Hackney -- and he will reveal himself soon, perhaps within days or weeks." -- All of this was obscure to the three tall, languid, male attendants in the Fair Winds store (Maslama refused to employ here; "my motto," he was fond of saying, "is that nobody trusts a female to help him with his horn"); which was why none of them could believe their eyes when their hard-nosed employer suddenly underwent a complete change of personality, and rushed over to this wild, unshaven stranger as if he were God Almighty -- with his two-tone patent leather shoes, Armani suit and
Thursday, November 6, 2008
Jean Beraud Le Bal Mabile painting
Jean Beraud Le Bal Mabile paintingJean Beraud Jeune femme traversant le boulevard paintingJean Beraud A Game of Billiards painting
me_. He was a tyro puppeteer; it was necessary to study the strings, to find out what was connected to what . . . "I can't help it," Allie was saying. "I feel in some obscure way to blame for him. Our life isn't working out and it's my fault. My mother gets angry when I talk like this." Alicja, on the verge of catching the plane west, berated her daughter at Terminal Three. "I don't understand where you get these notions from," she cried amid backpackers, briefcases and weeping Asian mums. "You could say your father's life didn't go according to plan, either. So he should be blamed for the camps? Study history, Alleluia. In this century history stopped paying attention to the old psychological orientation of reality. I mean, these days, character isn't destiny any more. Economics is destiny. Ideology is destiny. Bombs are destiny. What does a famine, a gas chamber, a grenade care how you your pathetic individual self doesn't have a thing to do with it, only to suffer the effects. This Gibreel of yours: maybe he's how history happens to you." She had returned, without warning, to the grand style
me_. He was a tyro puppeteer; it was necessary to study the strings, to find out what was connected to what . . . "I can't help it," Allie was saying. "I feel in some obscure way to blame for him. Our life isn't working out and it's my fault. My mother gets angry when I talk like this." Alicja, on the verge of catching the plane west, berated her daughter at Terminal Three. "I don't understand where you get these notions from," she cried amid backpackers, briefcases and weeping Asian mums. "You could say your father's life didn't go according to plan, either. So he should be blamed for the camps? Study history, Alleluia. In this century history stopped paying attention to the old psychological orientation of reality. I mean, these days, character isn't destiny any more. Economics is destiny. Ideology is destiny. Bombs are destiny. What does a famine, a gas chamber, a grenade care how you your pathetic individual self doesn't have a thing to do with it, only to suffer the effects. This Gibreel of yours: maybe he's how history happens to you." She had returned, without warning, to the grand style
Leroy Neiman 16th at Augusta painting
Leroy Neiman 16th at Augusta painting
Caravaggio Beheading of Saint John the Baptist painting
followed. Hanif Johnson, Simba's lawyer, made a series of suggestions -- the visitors' gallery must be packed, the dispensers ofjustice must know that they were being watched; the court must be picketed, and a rota should be organized; there was the need for a financial appeal. Chamcha murmured to Jumpy: "Nobody mentions his history of sexual aggression." Jumpy shrugged. "Some of the women he's attacked are in this room. Mishal, for example, is over there, look, in the corner by the stage. But this isn't the time or place for that. Simba's bull craziness is, you could say, a trouble in the family. What we have here is trouble with the Man." In other circumstances
Johannes Vermeer Saint Praxidis painting
Saladin would have had a good deal to say in response to such a statement. -- He would have objected, for one thing, that a man's record of violence could not be set aside so easily when he was accused of murder. -- Also that he didn't like the use of such American terms as "the Man" in the very different British situation, where there was no history of slavery; it sounded like an attempt to borrow the glamour of other, more dangerous struggles, a thing he also felt about the organizers' decision to punctuate the speeches with such
Caravaggio Beheading of Saint John the Baptist painting
followed. Hanif Johnson, Simba's lawyer, made a series of suggestions -- the visitors' gallery must be packed, the dispensers ofjustice must know that they were being watched; the court must be picketed, and a rota should be organized; there was the need for a financial appeal. Chamcha murmured to Jumpy: "Nobody mentions his history of sexual aggression." Jumpy shrugged. "Some of the women he's attacked are in this room. Mishal, for example, is over there, look, in the corner by the stage. But this isn't the time or place for that. Simba's bull craziness is, you could say, a trouble in the family. What we have here is trouble with the Man." In other circumstances
Johannes Vermeer Saint Praxidis painting
Saladin would have had a good deal to say in response to such a statement. -- He would have objected, for one thing, that a man's record of violence could not be set aside so easily when he was accused of murder. -- Also that he didn't like the use of such American terms as "the Man" in the very different British situation, where there was no history of slavery; it sounded like an attempt to borrow the glamour of other, more dangerous struggles, a thing he also felt about the organizers' decision to punctuate the speeches with such
John Singer Sargent A Morning Walk lady painting
John Singer Sargent A Morning Walk lady paintingJohn Singer Sargent The Entrance to the Grand Canal Venice paintingJohn Singer Sargent The Breakfast Table painting
Then she went, and the lamp that had been snuffed out burst once more into a great and gentle light, and the Messenger murmured, "Still, I thank Thee, Al--Lat, for this gift."
Not long afterwards he died. Ayesha went out into the next room, where the other wives and disciples were waiting with heavy hearts, and they began mightily to lament:
But Ayesha wiped her eyes, and said: "If there be any here who worshipped the Messenger, let them grieve, for Mahound is dead; but if there be any here who worship God, then let them rejoice, for He is surely alive."
It was the end of the dream. outside her door once a day and that her chamberpot be emptied at the same time. For two years and two months she saw no other living being. Then she entered her husband's bedroom at dawn, dressed in all her finery, with jewels
Then she went, and the lamp that had been snuffed out burst once more into a great and gentle light, and the Messenger murmured, "Still, I thank Thee, Al--Lat, for this gift."
Not long afterwards he died. Ayesha went out into the next room, where the other wives and disciples were waiting with heavy hearts, and they began mightily to lament:
But Ayesha wiped her eyes, and said: "If there be any here who worshipped the Messenger, let them grieve, for Mahound is dead; but if there be any here who worship God, then let them rejoice, for He is surely alive."
It was the end of the dream. outside her door once a day and that her chamberpot be emptied at the same time. For two years and two months she saw no other living being. Then she entered her husband's bedroom at dawn, dressed in all her finery, with jewels
Tuesday, November 4, 2008
Leonardo da Vinci Leda 1530 painting
Leonardo da Vinci Leda 1530 paintingThomas Kinkade End of a Perfect Day paintingThomas Kinkade Beacon of hope painting
haemorrhage beyond hope of repair, and the brain, too, would start to explode, losing cells by the billion, too many and too fast, resulting in the permanent damage known as High Altitude Deterioration, followed in quick time by death. Blind corpses would remain preserved in the permafrost of those highest slopes. But Allie and Sherpa Pemba went up and came down to tell the talc. Cells from the brain's deposit boxes replaced the anyway." There had been some damage. She had been suffering unaccountable lapses of memory: small, unpredictable things. Once at the fishmonger's she had current-- account casualties. Nor did her eyes blow out. Why had the scientists been wrong? "Prejudice, mostly," Allie said, lying curled around Gibreel beneath parachute silk. "They can't quantify the will, so they leave it out of their calculations. But it's will that gets you up Everest, will and anger, and it can bend any law of nature you care to mention, at least in the short term, gravity not excluded. If you don't push your luck,
haemorrhage beyond hope of repair, and the brain, too, would start to explode, losing cells by the billion, too many and too fast, resulting in the permanent damage known as High Altitude Deterioration, followed in quick time by death. Blind corpses would remain preserved in the permafrost of those highest slopes. But Allie and Sherpa Pemba went up and came down to tell the talc. Cells from the brain's deposit boxes replaced the anyway." There had been some damage. She had been suffering unaccountable lapses of memory: small, unpredictable things. Once at the fishmonger's she had current-- account casualties. Nor did her eyes blow out. Why had the scientists been wrong? "Prejudice, mostly," Allie said, lying curled around Gibreel beneath parachute silk. "They can't quantify the will, so they leave it out of their calculations. But it's will that gets you up Everest, will and anger, and it can bend any law of nature you care to mention, at least in the short term, gravity not excluded. If you don't push your luck,
Frida Kahlo Luther Burbank painting
Frida Kahlo Luther Burbank paintingFrida Kahlo Girl with Death Mask paintingDouglas Hofmann silver satin painting
have become embroiled, in things, in the world and its messes, and I cannot resist. The grotesque has me, as before the quotidian had me, in its thrall. The sea gave me up; the land drags me down.
He was sliding down a grey slope, the black water lapping at his heart. Why did rebirth, the second chance granted to Gibreel Farishta and himself, feel so much, in his case, like a perpetual ending? He had been reborn into the knowledge of death; and the inescapability of change, of things-never-the-same, of noway-back, made him afraid. When you lose the past you're naked in front of contemptuous Azraeel, the death-angel. Hold on if you can, he told himself. Cling to yesterdays. Leave your nail-marks in the grey slope as you slide.
Billy Battuta: that worthless piece of shit. Playboy Pakistani, turned
have become embroiled, in things, in the world and its messes, and I cannot resist. The grotesque has me, as before the quotidian had me, in its thrall. The sea gave me up; the land drags me down.
He was sliding down a grey slope, the black water lapping at his heart. Why did rebirth, the second chance granted to Gibreel Farishta and himself, feel so much, in his case, like a perpetual ending? He had been reborn into the knowledge of death; and the inescapability of change, of things-never-the-same, of noway-back, made him afraid. When you lose the past you're naked in front of contemptuous Azraeel, the death-angel. Hold on if you can, he told himself. Cling to yesterdays. Leave your nail-marks in the grey slope as you slide.
Billy Battuta: that worthless piece of shit. Playboy Pakistani, turned
Monday, November 3, 2008
Claude Monet Woman Seated under the Willows painting
Claude Monet Woman Seated under the Willows paintingClaude Monet Weeping Willow paintingClaude Monet Water-Lilies 1917 painting
involvement with other human beings. He himself could hardly recognize more than a handful of the villagers, but she knew each person's pet names, family histories and incomes. They even told her their dreams, although few of them dreamed more than once a month on account of being too poor to afford such luxuries. The overflowing fondness he had felt at dawn returned, and he placed his arm around her shoulders. She leaned her head against him and said softly: "Happy birthday." He kissed the top of her hair. They stood embracing, watching the sleeping girl. Ayesha: his wife told him the name.
o o o
After the orphan girl Ayesha arrived at puberty and became, on account of her distracted beauty and her air of staring into another world, the object of many young men's desires, it began to be said that she was looking for a lover from heaven, because she thought herself too good for mortal men
involvement with other human beings. He himself could hardly recognize more than a handful of the villagers, but she knew each person's pet names, family histories and incomes. They even told her their dreams, although few of them dreamed more than once a month on account of being too poor to afford such luxuries. The overflowing fondness he had felt at dawn returned, and he placed his arm around her shoulders. She leaned her head against him and said softly: "Happy birthday." He kissed the top of her hair. They stood embracing, watching the sleeping girl. Ayesha: his wife told him the name.
o o o
After the orphan girl Ayesha arrived at puberty and became, on account of her distracted beauty and her air of staring into another world, the object of many young men's desires, it began to be said that she was looking for a lover from heaven, because she thought herself too good for mortal men
Sunday, November 2, 2008
Jean Fragonard The Confession of Love painting
Jean Fragonard The Confession of Love paintingJean Fragonard The Bolt paintingJoaquin Sorolla y Bastida The Milkmaid painting
That day Gibreel Farishta fled in every direction around the Underground of the city of London and Rekha Merchant found him wherever he went; she sat beside him on the endless up-escalator at Oxford Circus and in the tightly packed elevators of Tufnell Park she rubbed up against him from behind in a manner that she would have thought the outer reaches of the Metropolitan Line she hurled the phantoms of her children from the tops of claw--like trees, and when he came up for air outside the Bank of England she flung herself histrionically from the apex of its neo--classical pediment. And even though he did not have any idea of the true shape of that most protean and chameleon of cities he grew convinced that it kept changing shape as he ran around beneath it, so that the stations on the Underground changed lines and followed one another in apparently random sequence. More than once he emerged, suffocating, from that subterranean world in which the laws of space and time had ceased to operate, and tried
That day Gibreel Farishta fled in every direction around the Underground of the city of London and Rekha Merchant found him wherever he went; she sat beside him on the endless up-escalator at Oxford Circus and in the tightly packed elevators of Tufnell Park she rubbed up against him from behind in a manner that she would have thought the outer reaches of the Metropolitan Line she hurled the phantoms of her children from the tops of claw--like trees, and when he came up for air outside the Bank of England she flung herself histrionically from the apex of its neo--classical pediment. And even though he did not have any idea of the true shape of that most protean and chameleon of cities he grew convinced that it kept changing shape as he ran around beneath it, so that the stations on the Underground changed lines and followed one another in apparently random sequence. More than once he emerged, suffocating, from that subterranean world in which the laws of space and time had ceased to operate, and tried
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