Jack Vettriano Study for Bluebird at Bonneville

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purposefully. He flung the torch beam around. The walls were covered in dark tiles and were cold to the touch, the air thick with decay. "There, what did I tell you?" he said. "An inhabited planet. Magrathea," and he strode on through the dirt and debris that littered the tile floor. Trillian was reminded unavoidably of the London Underground, though it was less dragged Zaphod into one to have a look. Trillian followed. "Look," said Ford, "you reckon this is Magrathea ..." "Yeah," said Zaphod, "and we heard the voice, right?" "OK, so I've bought the fact that it's Magrathea - for the moment. What you have so far said thoroughly squalid. At intervals along the walls the tiles gave way to large mosaics - simple angular patterns in bright colours. Trillian stopped and studied one of them but could not interpret any sense in them. She called to Zaphod. "Hey, have you any idea what these strange symbols are?" "I think they're just strange symbols of some kind," said Zaphod, hardly glancing back. Trillian shrugged and hurried after him. >From time to time a doorway led either to the left or right into smallish chambers which Ford discovered to be full of equipment. He

Fantin-Latour The Bath

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"NCIS," CBS.
2. "The Mentalist," CBS.
3. "Sunday Night Football: Carolina Panthers at New York Giants," NBC.
4. "Two and a Half Men," CBS.
5. "Criminal Minds," CBS.
(From Nielsen Media Research)
FILM
1. "Yes Man," Warner Bros.
2. "Seven Pounds," Sony.
3. "The Tale of Despereaux," Universal.
4. "The Day the Earth Stood Still," Fox.
5. "Four Christmases," Warner Bros.
(From Media By Numbers LLC)
HOT FIVE
1. "Single Ladies (Put a Ring on It)," World/Columbia.
2. "Live Your," T.I. feat. Rihanna. Def Jam/Grand Hustle/IDJMG/Atlantic. (Platinum)
3. "Just Dance," Lady GaGa feat. Colby O'Donis. Streamline/KonLive/Cherrytree/Interscope.
4. "Heartless," Kanye West. Roc-a-Fella/Def Jam/IDJMG.
5. "Womanizer," Britney Spears. Jive/Zomba.

Klimt The Kiss (detail)

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Megabrantis cluster, the political hub of the Galaxy and now formed the immensely powerful backbone of the Galactic Civil Service. They have attempted to acquire learning, they have attempted to acquire style and social grace, but in most respects . He breathed a silent thank you to the Dentrassis. The Dentrassis are an unruly tribe of gourmands, a wild but pleasant bunch whom the Vogons had recently taken to employing as catering staff on their long haul fleets, on the strict understanding that they keep themselves very much to themselves. This suited the Dentrassis fine, because they loved Vogon money, which is one of the hardest currencies in space, but loathed the Vogons themselves. The only sort the modern Vogon is little different from his primitive forebears. Every year they import twenty-seven thousand scintillating jewelled scuttling crabs from their native planet and while away a happy drunken night smashing them to bits with iron mallets. Prostetnic Vogon Jeltz was a fairly typical Vogon in that he was thoroughly vile. Also, he did not like hitch hikers. Somewhere in a small dark cabin buried deep in the intestines of Prostetnic Vogon Jeltz's flagship, a small match flared nervously. The owner of the match was not a Vogon, but he knew all about them and was right to be nervous. His name was Ford Prefect*. He looked about the cabin but could see very little; strange monstrous shadows loomed and leaped with the tiny flickering flame, but all was quiet

Childs From The Terrace

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The disappearance of the string of little bells from Ethan’s desk suggested that Dunny had been in Palazzo Rospo. The e-mails from Devonshire, Yorn, and Hachette had supported what the missing bells suggested. As far as Ethan was concerned, this photo qualified as hard proof.Dead, stone-solid-perfect dead, according to Dr. O’Brien at Our Lady of Angels, had no name.Whatever Dunny proved to be, he was no longer merely a man. His motives, therefore, couldn’t be identified either by the process of deduction or by the intuition on which a cop relied.Nevertheless, Ethan sensed now that his childhood friend, so long estranged, wasn’t the source of the threat to Fric, that Dunny’s role in these bizarre events was more benign than not. A man who had loved Hannah, who had kept her picture five years after her death, must have within him at least Dunny remained at large in the world, but with powers that defied reason and that defined a supernatural entity.[567] He had been in Palazzo Rospo.He was here now.Ethan wouldn’t have believed in a walking dead man if he hadn’t been shot point-blank in the gut, hadn’t died and been resurrected, if he hadn’t been trashed by a PT Cruiser and a truck, hadn’t been on his feet again an instant after his second death. He himself wasn’t a ghost, but after the events of the past two days, he could believe in a ghost, all right, and in lots of things to which previously he had given no credence.Maybe Dunny wasn’t a ghost, either. He might be something else for which Ethan

Kimble Folk Bear

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switched off the engine, got out of the car, and came face to face with Dunny Whistler.As pale as a sun-bleached skull, features drawn from his days in deathlike coma, Dunny stood in the rain yet remained untouched by it, drier than bone, than moon sand, than salt. “Don’t go in there.”Hazard startled and embarrassed himself by doing the in vertical rillets, vanishing in an instant, even more fluidly than he had slipped away into a mirror. The waterproof storm suit featured a foldaway hood, anatomically shaped knees, and more pockets than a kleptomaniac’s custom-tailored overcoat, all with zippers. Two layers of socks, black ski boots, and leather-and-nylon gloves—almost as flexible as surgical gloves but less likely to arouse suspicion—completed the ensemble.Pleased by his reflection in a full-length mirror, Corky went down [471] the next best thing to a feets-don’t-fail-me-now routine. He tried to back up but had nowhere to go because the car was immediately behind him, yet he couldn’t stop his shoes from slipping against the wet pavement, as his feet tried to propel him backward through the sedan.“If you die,” Dunny said, “I can’t bring you back. I’m not your guardian.”As solid as flesh one instant, liquid the next, Dunny collapsed without a splash into the puddle in which he stood, as though he had been an apparition formed of water, shimmering to the wet pavement

Guido Reni Baptism of Christ painting

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individual.”“And it’s a machine malfunction?”“A couple people here think it has to be machine error. But ...”“You disagree.”O’Brien hesitated, staring at the screen. “Well, I shouldn’t get ahead of the story. First ... when the ICU nurse saw of the former rugged plateaus, with precipitous slopes between them.“The nurse summoned a doctor,” O’Brien said. “That doctor called in another. No one observed any physical evidence that Whistler had ascended by any degree from deep coma. The ventilator still handled respiration. Heart was slow, slightly irregular. Yet according to the EEG, his brain produced the beta waves of a conscious, alert person.”“And you said ‘disturbed.’ ”The beta tracery on the screen jittered wildly up and down, valleys this coming in by telemetry, she went directly to the patient, thinking he’d come out of his coma. But he remained slack, unresponsive.”“Could he have been dreaming?” Ethan asked.O’Brien shook his head emphatically. “The wave patterns of dreamers are distinctive and easily recognizable. Researchers have identified four stages of sleep, and a different signature wave for each stage. None of them is like this.”The beta waves began to spike higher and lower than before. The [361] peaks and valleys were mere needle points instead

Edward Hopper Railroad Sunset painting

Edward Hopper Railroad Sunset paintingEdward Hopper Morning Sun paintingClaude Monet Venice Twilight painting
Lying won’t get you anything but misery.Yeah, yeah, yeah.The sole proof of his tale was the crumpled photograph of the pretty lady with him to turn into a cat, or had given him a two-headed toad that spoke English out of one head and French out of the other, and sang Britney Spears tunes out of its butt, that would have been proof.The photo amounted to nothing. Just a crumpled picture. Nothing more than a portrait of a pretty lady with a great smile, a stranger.If Fric reported what had happened in the attic, Mr. Truman would think that he’d been smoking weed. He would lose whatever credibility he currently had.Without knocking, he turned away from the door.In this battle, he stood alone. Standing alone was nothing new, but it sure was getting tiresomethe gentle smile, which had been thrust into his hands by the man in the mirror.He stared at the door to Mr. Truman’s apartment.He looked at the photograph.The photograph didn’t prove anything. He could have gotten it from anyone, from anywhere.[294] If the man in the mirror had given him a magic ring that allowed

Thomas Kinkade London painting

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He sipped the Scotch, seeking clarity from inebriation, since he couldn’t find any clarity in sobriety.Ten or fifteen minutes later, still cold sober, he caught sight of Dunny Whistler in the back-bar mirror.Ethan spun on his stool, slopping Scotch fromarmchairs. There, guests could attend high tea every afternoon; and at this later hour, drinks were being served to those who preferred an atmosphere gentler than that in the bar.At a glance, Dunny Whistler couldn’t be seen among the crowd in the drawing room. his glass.Threading his way among the tables, Dunny had almost reached the door. He was not a ghost: A waitress paused to let him pass.Ethan got to his feet, remembered the bells, snatched them off the bar, and hurried toward the exit.Some patrons were visiting from table to table, standing in the aisles. Ethan had to resist the urge to shove them aside. His “Excuse me” had such a sharp edge that people bristled, but the expression on his face at once made them choke on their unvoiced reprimands.By the time Ethan stepped out of the bar, Dunny had vanished.Hurrying into the adjacent lobby, Ethan saw guests standing at the registration desk, others at the concierge desk, people walking toward the elevator alcove. Dunny wasn’t among them.To Ethan’s left, the marble-clad lobby opened to an enormous drawing room furnished with sofas and

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character in any TV program for children, Corky Laputa was in such a good mood that he answered the call by saying, “Brighten the corner where you are.”The caller was Rolf Reynerd. As thick as Corky was yellow, Rolf thought he’d gotten a wrong number.“It’s me,” Corky said quickly, before Reynerd could hang up.By the time he reached the BMW, he wished he had never answered the phclear as a baby’s conmet the city pavement and flooded the gutters with filthy churning currents.Studying the photo of the jar full of foreskins, Hazard said, “Ten little hats from ten little proud heads? You think they could be trophies?”“From men he’s murdered? Possible but unlikely. Anybody with that many kills isn’t the kind to taunt his victims first with freaky gifts in-black boxes. He just does the job.”“And if they were trophies, he wouldn’t give them away so easy.”“Yeah. They’d be the central theme of his home one. Reynerd had done something stupid.

Thomas Kinkade End of a Perfect Day painting

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middle boat were ill at ease, for Boromir sat muttering to himself, sometimes biting his nails, as if some restlessness or doubt consumed him, sometimes seizing a paddle and driving the boat close behind Aragorn's. Then Pippin, who sat in the bow looking back, caught a queer gleam in his eye, as he peered forward gazing at Frodo. Sam had long ago made up his mind that, though boats were maybe not as dangerous as he had been brought up to believe, they were far more uncomfortable than even he had imagined. He was cramped and miserable, having nothing to do but stare at the winter-lands crawling by and the grey water on either side of him. Even when the paddles were in use they did not trust Sam with one.As dusk drew down on the fourth day, he was looking back over the bowed heads of Frodo and Aragorn and the following boats; he was drowsy and longed
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gravel-shoals in the water, so that careful steering was needed. The Brown Lands rose into bleak wolds, over which flowed a chill air from the East. On the other side the meads had become rolling downs of withered grass amidst a land of fen and tussock. Frodo shivered, thinking of the lawns and fountains, the clear sun and gentle rains of Lothlórien. There was little speech and no laughter in any of the boats. Each member of the Company was busy with his own thoughts.The heart of Legolas was running under the stars of a summer night in some northern glade amid the beech-woods; Gimli was fingering gold in his mind, and wondering if it were fit to be wrought into the housing of the Lady's gift. Merry and Pippin in the for camp and the feel of earth under his toes. Suddenly something caught his sight: at first he stared at it listlessly, then he sat up and rubbed his eyes; but when he looked again he could not see it any more.

Alfred Gockel Endless Love painting

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the Lady. 'You did not wish to go without your master before you looked in the Mirror, and yet you knew that evil things might well be happening in the Shire. Remember that the Mirror shows many things, and not all have yet come to pass. Some never come to be, unless those that behold the visions turn aside from their
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'There's some devilry at work in the Shire,' he said. 'Elrond knew what he was about when he wanted to send Mr. Merry back.' Then suddenly Sam gave a cry and sprang away. 'I can't stay here,' he said wildly. `I must go home. They've dug up Bagshot Row, and there's the poor old gaffer going down the Hill with his bits of things on a barrow. I must go cannot go home alone,' said path to prevent them. The Mirror is dangerous as a guide of deeds.'Sam sat on the ground and put his head in his hands. `I wish I had never come here, and I don't want to see no more magic,' he said and fell silent. After a moment he spoke again thickly, as if struggling with tears. `No, I'll go by the long road with Mr. Frodo, or not at all,' he said. `But I hope I do get back some day. If what I've seen turns out true, somebody's going to catch it hot! '`Do you now wish to look, Frodo? ' said the Lady Galadriel. `You did not wish to see Elf-magic and were content.'`Do you advise me to look? ' asked Frodo.'No,' she said. `I do not counsel you one way or the other. I am not a counsellor. You may learn

Albert Bierstadt Yosemite Valley painting

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Journey in the DarkIt was evening, and the grey light was again waning fast, when they halted for the night. They were very weary. The mountains were veiled in deepening dusk, and the wind was cold. Gandalf spared them one more mouthful each able to set out again. Then sooner or later Rivendell will be besieged, and after a brief and bitter time it will be destroyed. The Ringwraiths are deadly enemies, but they are only shadows yet of the power and terror
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of the miruvor of Rivendell. When they had eaten some food he called a council.'We cannot, of course, go on again tonight,' he said. `The attack on the Redhorn Gate has tired us out, and we must rest here for a while.'`And then where are we to go? ' asked Frodo.'We still have our journey and our errand before us,' answered Gandalf. `We have no choice but to go on, or to return to Rivendell.'Pippin's face brightened visibly at the mere mention of return to Rivendell; Merry and Sam looked up hopefully. But Aragorn and Boromir made no sign. Frodo looked troubled.`I wish I was back there,' he said. `But how can I return without shame – unless there is indeed no other way, and we are already defeated? '`You are right, Frodo,' said Gandalf: `to go back is to admit defeat and face worse defeat to come. If we go back now, then the Ring must remain there: we shall not be

Mary Magdalene in the Desert Honore Daumier

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called to him with fell voices.Fear now filled all Frodo's mind. He thought no longer of his sword. No cry came from him. He shut his eyes and clung to the horse's mane. The wind whistled in his ears, and the bells upon the harness rang wild and shrill. A breath of deadly cold pierced him like a spear, as with a last spurt, like a flash of nothing that would prevent them from crossing as easily as he had done; and he felt that it was useless to try to escape over the long uncertain path from the Ford to the edge of Rivendell, if once the Riders crossed. In any case he felt that he was commanded urgently to halt. Hatred again stirred in him, but he had no longer the strength to refuse.Suddenly the foremost Rider spurred his horse forward. It checked at the water and reared white fire, the elf-horse speeding as if on wings, passed right before the face of the foremost Rider.Frodo heard the splash of water. It foamed about his feet. He felt the quick heave and surge as the horse left the river and struggled up the stony path. He was climbing the steep bank. He was across the Ford.But the pursuers were close behind. At the top of the bank the horse halted and turned about neighing fiercely. There were Nine Riders at the water's edge below, and Frodo's spirit quailed before the threat of their uplifted faces. He knew of

Neiman Hawaiian Surfers

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northwards, until it came to an opening between two steep shoulders. Beyond, there seemed to be no more hills. Due north they faintly glimpsed a long dark line. That is a line of trees,' said Merry, 'and that must mark the Road. All along it for many leagues east of the Bridge there are trees growing. Some say they were planted in the old days.''Splendid!' said Frodo. ‘If we make as good going this afternoon as we have done this morning,above, and at this hour casting no shadow. It was shapeless and yet significant: like a landmark, or a guarding finger, or more like a warning. But they were now hungry, and the sun was still at the fearless noon; so they set their backs against the east side of the stone. It was cool, as if the sun had had no power to warm it; but at that time we shall have left the Downs before the Sun sets and be jogging on in search of a camping place.' But even as he spoke he turned his glance eastwards, and he saw that on that side the hills were higher and looked down upon them; and all those hills were crowned with green mounds, and on some were standing stones, pointing upwards like jagged teeth out of green gums.That view was somehow disquieting; so they turned from the sight and went down into the hollow circle. In the midst of it there stood a single stone, standing tall under the sun

Neiman Olympic Boxing Moscow 1980

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flowed straight to the western Shore; and still on and back Tom went singing out into ancient starlight, when only the Elf-sires were awake. Then suddenly he slopped, and they saw that he nodded as if he was falling asleep. The hobbits sat still before him, enchanted; and it seemed as if, under the spell of his words, the wind up, and his eyes glinting in the gloom. ‘Don’t you know my name yet? That’s the only answer. Tell me, who are you, alone, yourself and nameless? But you are young and I am old. Eldest, that’s what I am. Mark my words, my friends: Tom was here before the river and the trees; Tom remembers the first raindrop and the first acorn. He made paths before the Big People, and saw the little People arriving. He was here before the Kings and the graves and the Barrow-wights.had gone, and the clouds had dried up, and the day had been withdrawn, and darkness had come from East and West, and all the sky was filled with the light of white stars.Whether the morning and evening of one day or of many days had passed Frodo could not tell. He did not feel either hungry or tired, only filled with wonder. The stars shone through the window and the silence of the heavens seemed to be round him. He spoke at last out of his wonder and a sudden fear of that silence:‘Who are you, Master?’ he asked.‘Eh, what?’ said Tom sitting

Mary Magdalene By Luca Signorelli

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and may the stars shine upon the end of your road! Seldom have we had such delight in strangers, and it is fair to hear words of the Ancient Speech from the lips of other wanderers in the world.’Frodo felt sleep coming upon him, even as Gildor finished speaking. ‘I will sleep now,’ he said; and the Elf led him to a bower beside Pippin, and he threw himself upon a bed and fell at once into a dreamless slumber. and therefore I do not know by what means your pursuers will assail you. These things Gandalf must know. I suppose that you will see him before you leave the Shire?’‘I hope so. But that is another thing that makes me anxious. I have been expecting Gandalf for many days. He was to have come to Hobbiton at the latest two nights ago; but he has never appeared. Now I am wondering what can have happened. Should I wait for him?’Gildor was silent fortold you nothing?’‘Nothing about such creatures