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
Friday, April 10, 2009
Wednesday, April 8, 2009
Caravaggio The Lute Player
Caravaggio The Lute PlayerCaravaggio The Inspiration of Saint MatthewCaravaggio The Fortune Teller
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
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
Tuesday, April 7, 2009
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?’
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?’
Monday, April 6, 2009
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
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
Friday, April 3, 2009
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
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
Thursday, April 2, 2009
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
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
Wednesday, April 1, 2009
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:
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:
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