John William Waterhouse Gather ye rosebuds while ye may

John William Waterhouse Gather ye rosebuds while ye mayLeonardo da Vinci Leda and the SwanLeonardo da Vinci St John in the WildernessLeonardo da Vinci The Last Supper
walking rocks.
He'd sought advice about troll food from Chryso-prase, who was also a troll, although you'd hardly know it any more, he'd been around pies! Get them while they're hot!'
This was by way of a warm up. The chances of a human eating anything off Dibbler's barrow unless it was stamped flat and pushed under the door after two weeks on a starvation diet was, by now, remote. He looked around conspiratorially – there were always trolls working in the docks – and took the cover off a fresh tray.
Now then, what was it? Oh, yes . . .humans so long he wore a suit now and, as he said, had learned all kindsa civilized things, like extortion, money-lending at 300 per cent interest per munf, and stuff like that. Chrysoprase might have been born in a cave above the snowline on some mountain somewhere, but five minutes in Ankh-Morpork and he'd fitted right in. Dibbler liked to think of Chrysoprase as a friend; you'd hate to think of him as an enemy.Throat had chosen today to give his new approach a try. He pushed his hot food barrow through streets broad and narrow, crying:'Sausages! Hot sausages! Inna bun! Meat

Paul Gauguin By the Sea

Paul Gauguin By the SeaPaul Gauguin Breton Girls DancingHenri Matisse The MoroccansHenri Matisse Still Life with Oranges
'And that was in a tree.'
'Where are we?'
'Not even a tree near here. What?'
Gaspode sniffed the air. His nose could read the city in a way reminiscent of Captain Vimes' educated soles.
'Junction of Scoone Avenue and Prouts,' he said.
'Trail's dying bear across the snow, wearing the landscape like a skin—
Gaspode glanced sideways. Angua was sitting on her haunches, staring.
'Yer tongue's hanging out,' he said.
'What? . . . So? So what? That's natural. I'm panting.'
'Har, har.'
Carrot noticed them, and stopped.
'Why, it's the little mongrel dog,' he said.out. It's mixed up with too much other stuff.'Angua sniffed around for a while. Someone had come up here, but too many people had crossed the trail. The sharp smell was still there, but only as a suggestion in the welter of conflicting scents.She was aware of an overwhelming smell of approaching soap. She'd noticed it before, but only as a woman and only as a faint whiff. As a quadruped, it seemed to fill the world.Corporal Carrot was walking up the road, looking thoughtful. He wasn't looking where he was going, however, but he didn't need to. People stood aside for Corporal Carrot.It was the first time she'd seen him through these eyes. Good grief. How did people not notice it? He walked through the city like a tiger through tall grass, or a hubland

Piet Mondrian Composition 2

Piet Mondrian Composition 2Steve Thoms PoppiesEdvard Munch Puberty 1894
was just going back to the Guild,' said Beano.
The hooded that hard! I only wanted you out of the way!'
'Why'd you have to hit me at all?'
And then the feeling stole over Beano that Edward wasn't exactly looking at him, and certainly wasn't talking to him.
He glanced at the ground, and experienced that peculiar sensation known only to the recently dead -horror at what you see lying in front of you, followed by the nagging question: so who's doing the looking?
KNOCK KNOCK.
He looked up. 'Who's there?'figure nodded.'Are you OK?' said Beano.'I'm sorry about th-is,' it said. 'But it is for the good of the city. It is nothing p-ersonal.'He stepped behind the clown. Beano felt a crunch, and then his own personal internal universe switched off.Then he sat up.'Ow,' he said, 'that hur—'But it didn't.Edward d'Eath was looking down at him with a horrified expression.'Oh . . . I didn't mean to hit you

Thomas Kinkade The Night Before Christmas

Thomas Kinkade The Night Before ChristmasThomas Kinkade The Good LifeThomas Kinkade Stairway to ParadiseThomas Kinkade NASCAR THUNDER
thought you’d say that.”
“We don’t want the world. Just this little kingdom will do. And we will take it, whether it wants us or not.”
“Over my dead body, madam.”
“If that is a condition.”
The Queen lashed out mentally, like a cat.
Granny Weatherwax winced, and leaned backward for a moment.
“Madam?”
“Yes?” said the Queen.
“There aren’t see where it led. So I had to learn. All my life. The hard way. And the hard way’s pretty hard, but not so hard as the easy way. I learned. From the trolls and the dwarfs and from peo-ple. Even from pebbles.”
The Queen lowered her voice.
“You will not be killed,” she whispered. “I promise you that. You’ll be left alive, to dribble and gibber and soil your-self and wander from door to door for scraps. And they’ll say: there goes the mad old any rules, are there?”“Rules? What are rules?” said the Queen.“I thought so,” said Granny. “Gytha Ogg?”Nanny managed to turn her head.“Yes, Esme?”“My box. You know. The one in the dresser. You’ll know what to do.”Granny Weatherwax smiled. The Queen swayed side-ways, as if she’d been slapped.“You have learned,” she said.“Oh, yes. You know I never entered your circle. I could woman.”
“They say that now,” said Granny Weatherwax. “They think I can’t hear.”

Rudolf Ernst The Perfume Maker

Rudolf Ernst The Perfume MakerAlexandre Cabanel Fallen AngelAlexandre Cabanel Cleopatra Testing Poisons on Condemned PrisonersJulien Dupre Shepherdess With Her Flock
Ain’t sure,” said Granny. “All I know is, if she don’t want me to go there, that’s where I’m going. But I hadn’t bargained on you tumin’ up and having a rush of blood to the heart. Come on.”
Ridcully wrung out his robe. A lot of the sequins had come off. He removed his hat and unscrewed the point.
Headgear picks up rations. And the tip unscrewed to dispense an adequate sup-ply of spirituous liquors for use in emergencies, such as when Ridcully was thirsty.
Ridcully waved the small pointed cup at Granny.
“Brandy?” he said.
“What have you got on your head?”
Ridcully felt his pate gingerly.
202morphic vibrations. Quite a lot of trou-ble had once been caused in Unseen University by a former Archchancellor’s hat, which had picked up too many magical vibrations after spending so much time on wizardly heads and had developed a personality of its very own. Ridcully had put a stop to this by having his own hat made to particular specifica-tions by an Ankh-Morpork firm of completely insane hatters.It was not a normal wizard hat. Few wizards have ever made much use of the pointy bit, except maybe to keep the odd pair of socks in it. But Ridcully’s hat had small cup-boards. It had surprises. It had four telescopic legs and a roll of oiled silk in the brim that extended downward to make a small but serviceable tent, and a patent spirit stove just above it. It had inner pockets with three days’ supply of iron

Mark Spain Carmen

Mark Spain CarmenMark Spain Burning DesireMark Spain Blue Dress On Gold
She’s not to be left alone,” Granny persisted.
“There’ll be plenty of people around,” said Verence.
“The guests start arriving tomorrow.”
“Being alone isn’t the same as not having other people around,” said Granny.
“This is a .
Elves are glamorous. They project glamour.
Elves are enchanting. They weave enchantment.
Elves are terrific. They beget terror.
The thing about words is that meanings can twist just like a snake, and if you want to find snakes look for them behind words that have changed their meaning.castle. Granny.”“Right. Well. We won’t keep you, then,” said Granny.“Come, Gytha.”Nanny Ogg helped herself to an elderly lamb chop from under one of the silver covers, and waved it vaguely at the royal pair.“Have fun,” she said. “Insofar as that’s possible.”“Gytha!”“Coming.”Elves are wonderful. They provoke wonder.Elves are marvellous. They cause marvels.Elves are fantastic. They create fantasies

Mark Spain Dance I

Mark Spain Dance IMark Spain Crescendo IIMark Spain Crescendo I
Nanny Ogg, holding out a bowl with a
cloth over it, “I’ve brung you some—“
Granny
“This is witchcraft,” said Granny Weatherwax. “It’s not... it’s not a game of conkers. Oh, deary, deary me.”
She walked along the very short row of trembling girls.
“What’s your name, girl?”
“Magenta Frottidge, ma’am.”
“I bet that’s not what your mum calls you?”
104
LORDS fttfO Lft0/£6Weatherwax was looking past her.“Who’re these people?” she said.The three girls looked embarrassed.“See, they came round my house and said—“ Nanny Ogg began.“Don’t tell me. Let me guess,” said Granny. She strode out, and inspected the trio.“Well, well, well,” she said. “My word. My word. Three girls who want to be witches, am I right?” Her voice went falsetto. “’Oh, please, Mrs. Ogg, we has seen the error of our ways, we want to leam proper witchcraft.” Yes?”“Yes. Something like that,” said Nanny. “But—“

Cao Yong Red Umbrella

Cao Yong Red UmbrellaCao Yong ParadiseCao Yong MY BALCONY
Like . . . sherry, custard ... that sort of thing?”
Death sighed. Metaphors were wasted on people.
Sometimes he felt that no one took him seriously enough.
I TAKE AWAY PEOPLE’S LIVES IS WHAT I MEAN,
he said testily.
“Where to?”
WE SHALL HAVE TO SEE, WON’T WE?
William Scrope was already fading into the mist.
“That had a huge num-ber of rooms, but she’d still be under the same roof, and that was good enough. Or bad enough.
That was before. Now her blood was sizzling. Let people talk. She had a pretty good idea which people they’d be, too. Which person, anyway. Witch person. Hah. Let them talk all they liked.thing that got me—“YES?“I thought they were extinct!”“NO. THEY JUST WENT AWAY.“Where to?”Death extended a bony digit.OVER THERE.Magrat hadn’t originally intended to move into the palace before the wedding, because people would talk. Admittedly a dozen people lived in the palace, which
She got up early and packed her possessions, such as they were. It wasn’t exactly her

Peter Paul Rubens The Straw Hat

Peter Paul Rubens The Straw HatPeter Paul Rubens Duke of LermaJohn William Godward Dolce far niente
There was a speck in the sun now, speeding toward the Citadel. And the little voice was saying left left left up up left right a bit up left-The mass of metal under him was getting uncomfortably hot.
"He comes now," said Brutha.
Vorbis waved his hand to the great facade of the temple. "Men built this. We built this," he said. "And what did Om do? Om comes? Let say why.
The eagle sped across the square, so low that people ducked. Then it cleared the roof of the temple and curved away towards the mountains. The watchers relaxed. It was only an eagle. For a moment there, just for a moment . . .
No one saw the tiny speck, tumbling down from the sky.
Don't put your faith in gods. But you can believe in turtles.him come! Let him judge between us!""He comes now," Brutha repeated. "The God."People looked apprehensively upward. There was that moment, just one moment, when the world holds its breath and against all experience waits for a miracle.-up left now, when I say three, one, two, THREE-"Vorbis?" croaked Brutha."What?" snapped the deacon."You're going to die."It was hardly a whisper, but it bounced off the bronze doors and carried across the Place . . .It made people uneasy, although they couldn't quite

Carl Fredrik Aagard Lodge on Lake Como

Carl Fredrik Aagard Lodge on Lake ComoCarl Fredrik Aagard Amalfi dia CappucciniSalvador Dali The Enigma of DesireSalvador Dali Morphological Echo
wondered how much he could remember. but that was stupid. You just remembered everything you saw. A tabletop, or a scroll full of writing. There was as much information in the grain and coloring of the wood as there was in Xeno's Reflections.
Even so, he was conscious of a certain heaviness of mind, a feeling that if he turned his head sharply then memory would slosh out of his ears.
Urn picked is a pattern of dark and light squares. The ears are very small and laid flat against the head. There are six whiskers. The tail is stubby. Only the hind feet are clawed, three claws on each foot. The fore feet are about the same length as the head and held up against the body. A band of thick hair-”
"That was fifty scrolls ago," said Urn. "He saw the whole scroll for a second or two."
They looked at Brutha. Brutha blinked again.
"You know everything?" said Urn.
"I don't know."up a scroll at random and unrolled it partway."Describe what an Ambiguous Puzuma looks like," he demanded."Don't know," said Brutha. He blinked."So much for Mr. Memory," said Urn."He can't read, boy. That's not fair," said the philosopher."All right. I mean-the fourth picture in the third scroll you saw," said Urn."A four-legged creature facing left," said Brutha. "A large head similar to a cat's and broad shoulders with the body tapering towards the hindquarters. The body

Albert Bierstadt The Last of the Buffalo

Albert Bierstadt The Last of the BuffaloDante Gabriel Rossetti Venus VerticordiaClaude Monet Haystack at Giverny
order of progression was not as some may have expected. Sergeant Simony and his soldiers rode ahead, on either side , Brutha?"
"Four miles and seven estado, lord."
"But how do you know?"
That was a question he couldn't answer. How did he know the sky was blue? It was just something in his head. You couldn't think about how you thought. It was like opening a box with the crowbar that was inside.
"And how long has our journey taken?"of the track.They were trailed by the servants and clerks and lesser priests. Vorbis rode in the rear, where an exquisitor rode by right, like a shepherd watching over his flock.Brutha rode with him. It was an honor he would have preferred to avoid. Brutha was one of those people who could raise a sweat on a frosty day, and the dust was settling on him like a gritty skin. But Vorbis seemed to derive some amusement from his company. Occasionally he would ask him questions:"How many miles have we traveled

Ford Madox Brown Romeo and Juliet

Ford Madox Brown Romeo and JulietPierre Auguste Renoir La PromenadePierre Auguste Renoir Dance in the Country
should have known. Well, it doesn't matter. I don't have to waste time on gardeners. Go and fetch the top man, right now."
"Top man?" saidPriest. High Priest."
Brutha nodded again. He knew there was a High Priest. It was just that, while he could just about encompass the hierarchical structure between his own self and Brother Nhumrod, he was unable to give serious consideration to any kind of link between Brutha the novice and the Cenobiarch. He was theoretically aware that there was one, that there was a huge canonical structure with the High Priest at the top and Brutha very firmly at the bottom, but he viewed it in the same way as an amoeba might view the chain of evolution all Brutha. He put his hand to his mouth. "You don't mean . . . Brother Nhumrod?""Who's he?" said the tortoise."The master of the novices!""Oh, Me!" said the tortoise. "No," it went on, in a singsong imitation of Brutha's voice, "I don't mean the master of the novices. I mean the High Priest or whatever he calls himself. I suppose there is one?"Brutha nodded blankly."High Priest, right?" said the tortoise. "High.

Francois Boucher Are They Thinking About the Grap

Francois Boucher Are They Thinking About the GrapFrancois Boucher An Autumn PastoralFrancois Boucher Adoration of the Shepherds
noticeable that he tried to keep as far away from Conina as politely possible.
'Everyone okay?' he said.
'Is this Ankh?' she said. 'Only when we wanted to go there, we rather hoped you’d put us somewhere with a doorword, and in this case really means failed to explain but at some length - that it was perfectly possible to travel across the world in a small lamp being carried by one of the party, the lamp itself moving because it was being carried by one of the people inside it,
because of a) the fractal nature of reality, which meant that everything could be thought .''You're on your way,' said the genie.'In what?'Something about the way in which the spirit hesitated caused Nijel's mind to leap a tall conclusion from a standing start. He looked down at the lamp in his hands.He gave it an experimental jerk. The floor shook.'Oh, no,' he said. 'It's physically impossible.''We're in the lamp?' said Conina.The room trembled again as Nijel tried to look down the spout.'Don't worry about it,' said the genie. 'In fact, don't think about it if possible.'He explained - although 'explained' is probably too positive a

Caravaggio The Lute Player

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Some sort of rodent, anyway. He just steals things. He's harmless.'
'He looks incredibly cold.' Conina shivered.
'I expect he's gone to a warmer place. Don't you think we should shut the box?'
It's perfectly safe now, said the hat's voice from inside the glow. And so perish all enemies of wizardry.
Rincewind , am I?'
'I have others.'
'I'll bet.'
Rincewind reached out gingerly with the knife. As it neared the leather box its blade went white and started to steam. He whimpered a little as the cold struck his hand - a burning, stabbing cold, a cold that crept up his arm and made a determined assault on his mind. He forced wasn't about to trust what a hat said.'We need something to shut the lid,' he muttered. 'A knife or something. You wouldn't have one, would you?''Look the other way,' Conina warned.There was a rustle and another gust of perfume.'You can look back now.'Rincewind was handed a twelve-inch throwing knife. He took it gingerly. Little particles of metal glinted on its edge.'Thanks.' He turned back. 'Not leaving you short

Pierre Auguste Renoir La Moulin de la Galette

Pierre Auguste Renoir La Moulin de la GalettePierre Auguste Renoir By the WaterPierre Auguste Renoir At the Concert
looked down at what she was suddenly wearing.
‘That’s not my dress. It’s got all glitter on it.’ Death sighed. The great lovers of history had never encountered Miss Flitworth. Casanunder would have handed in his stepladder.
, Miss Flitworth explored the rustling contents of the box of Dark Enchantments.
‘Here,’ she said, ‘someone’s had all the rum truffles.’ There was another crackle of paper. ‘And from the bottom layer, too. I hate that, people starting the bottom layer before the top one’s been properly finished. And I can tell you’ve been doing it because there’s a little map in the lid and by rights there should be rum truffles. Bill Door?’
I’M SORRY, MISS FLITWORTH.
‘This big diamond’s a bit heavy. Nice, thTHEY’RE DIAMONDS. A KING’S RANSOM IN DIAMONDS.‘Which king?’ANY KING.‘Coo.’Binky walked easily along the road to the town. After the length of infinity, a mere dusty road was a bit of a relief.Sitting side-saddle behind Deathough,’ she added, grudgingly.’Where’d you get it?’

Jean Francois Millet Angelus

Jean Francois Millet AngelusJean Francois Millet Harvesters RestingJean Francois Millet Garden
out self-importantly and tapped a small bell with great apparent effort.
Ting-ting-ling.
The figures lined up and wobbled back into the clock.
‘They’ve been there ever since I was a girl. Mr Simnel’s great-great-grandad made them,’ said Miss Flitworth. ‘l always wondered what they did between chimes, you know. I thought they had a little house in there, or something.’
I DON’T THINK SO. THEY’RE JUST A THING. THEY’RE NOT ALIVE.
‘Hmm. ‘It was wrong of me to delay you, just for a lot of corn.’
NO. THE HARVEST IS IMPORTANT.
Bill Door unfolded his palm. The timer appeared.
‘I still can’t work out how you do that.’
IT IS NOT DIFFICULT.Well, they’ve been there for hundreds of years. Maybe life is something you sort of acquire?’YES.They waited in silence, except for the occasional thud as the minute hand climbed the night.‘It’s been quite nice having you around the place, Bill Door.’He didn’t reply. ‘Helping me with the harvest and everything.’IT WAS . . . INTERESTING.
The hiss of the sand grew until it filled

Titian Sacred and Profane Love

Titian Sacred and Profane LoveFrancisco de Goya The ParasolBartolome Esteban Murillo Madonna and Child
glanced at Ludmilla and Lupine. Ah. Yes. And why not? If you can help somebody as you pass this way, Windle thought, then your living, or whatever, shall not be in vain.
He let himself fall into a stoop and let a little crackle enter his voice. ‘But I ‘m rather unsteady on my legs these dog would frighten away the most dangerous criminal,’ said Ludmilla.
On cue, Lupine barked helpfully and begged. Mrs Cake regarded him critically.
‘He’s certainly a very obedient animal,’ she said, reluctantly.
‘That’s settled, then,’ said Ludmilla. ‘I’ll fetch my shawl.’
Lupine rolled over. Windle nudged him with a foot.days,’ he quavered. ‘It would really be a great favour if someone could help me along. Could you see me as far as the University, young lady?’‘Ludmilla doesn’t go out much these days because her health -‘ Mrs Cake began briskly.‘Is absolutely fine,’ said Ludmilla. ‘Mother, you know it’s been a whole day since full moo -‘‘Ludmilla!’‘Well, it has.’‘It’s not safe for a young woman to walk the streets these days,’ said Mrs Cake.‘But Mr Poons’ wonderful

Lord Frederick Leighton Solitude

Lord Frederick Leighton SolitudeFrancois Boucher Venus Consoling LoveFrancois Boucher The Toilet of Venus
Nothing to it,’ said Ridcully.’Nothing to worry about. Read up on it last night, ‘s’matterofact. You can do it with three bits of wood and -‘ ‘Four cc of mouse blood,’ said the Senior Wrangler mournfully.’You don’t even? Seemed to be everywhere. Lord Vetinari wouldn’t listen to us, oh no. He paid that glib bugger in the red and yellow tights a thousand gold pieces to get rid of ‘em.’ ‘It worked, though,’ said the Lecturer in Recent Runes. ‘Of course it bloody worked,’ said the Dean.’It worked in Quirm and Sto Lat as well. He’d have got away with it in Pseudopolis as well if someone hadn’t recognised him. Mr so-called Amazing Maurice and His Educated Rodents!’
‘It’s no good trying to change the subject,’ said Ridcully need that. You can use two bits of wood and an egg. It has to be a fresh egg, though.’‘Why?’‘I suppose the mouse feels happier about it.’‘No, I mean the egg.’‘Oh, who knows how an egg feels?’‘Anyway,’ said the Dean, ‘it’s dangerous. I’ve always felt that he only stays in the octogram for the look of the thing. I hate it when he peers at you and seems to be counting.’‘Yes,’ said the Senior Wrangler.’We don’t need to do that. We get over most things. Dragons, monsters. Rats. Remember the rats last year

Albert Bierstadt A Quiet lake

Albert Bierstadt A Quiet lakeFabian Perez Waiting for the romance to comeFabian Perez Waiting For the Romance to Come Back IIFabian Perez VeniceFabian Perez For a Better Life III
Well, thought Throat, that’s a shame. Since they hadn’t technically belonged to him - although morally, of course, enough, for the writing. It was on the bottom of each globe, in shaky, amateurish letters, as if done by someone who had never seen writing before and was trying to copy some down. On the bottom of every globe, below the intricate little snowflake-covered building, were the words:
~fo r~3
4h~ MorPor’morally they were his - he couldn’t actually complain. Well, he could complain, of course, but only under his breath and not to anybody specific. Maybe it was all for the best, come to think of it. Stack ‘em high, sell ‘em cheap. Get ‘em off your hands - it made it much easier to spread them in a gesture of injured innocence when you said ‘Who, me?’
Mustrum Ridcully, Archchancellor of Unseen University, was a shameless autocondimentor. * He had his own special cruet put in front of him at every meal. It consisted of salt, three types of pepper, four types of mustard, four types of vinegar, fifteen different kinds of chutney and his special favourite: