Johannes Vermeer Girl with a Red Hat

Johannes Vermeer Girl with a Red HatDiane Romanello WindsongDiego Rivera The Flower Seller
there,' said Carrot. 'Behind that little bit of cotton wool.'
'Oh.'
'I'm afraid that for Mr Johnson accurate measurements were something that happened to other people.'
Mr Scant dosed the lid.
'He also did thewas full of interesting facts about Ankh-Morpork. Angua felt she was floating uneasily on a sea of them. Walking along a street with Carrot was like having three guided tours rolled into one.
'Now here,' said Carrot, 'is the Beggars' Guild. They're the oldest of the Guilds. Not many people know that.'
'Is that so?' Quirm Memorial, the Hanging Gardens of Ankh, and the Colossus of Morpork,' said Carrot.'The Colossus of Morpork?' said Angua.Mr Scant held up a skinny finger. Ah,' he said. 'Don't go away.' He started to pat his pockets. 'Got 'im 'ere somewhere.''Didn't the man ever design anything useful?''Well, he did design an ornamental cruet set for Mad Lord Snapcase,' said Carrot, as they strolled away.'He got that right?''Not exactly. But here's an interesting fact, four families live in a salt shaker and we use the pepper pot for storing grain.'Angua smiled. Interesting facts. Carrot

Claude Monet Water-Lilies 1914

Claude Monet Water-Lilies 1914Claude Monet The Seine at Rouen IClaude Monet The Road Bridge at Argenteuil
– he'd got polite, noncommittal answers. No, she'd locked his workshop and seemed to have mislaid the key. Thank you..
'Where are you staying?' said Carrot.
'Just down there.' She pointed.
'Elm Street? Not Mrs Cake's?'
'Yes. Why not? I just wanted a clean place, reasonably priced. What's wrong with that?'He'd tried to indicate as subtly as possible that a wholesale march on Quarry Lane would be frowned upon by the guard (probably from a vantage point at a safe distance) but hadn't the face to spell it out. He couldn't say: don't take matters into your own hands for the guard are mightily in pursuit of the wrongdoer, because he didn't have a clue where to start. Had your husband any enemies? Yes, someone put a huge great hole in him, but apart from that, did he have any enemies?So he'd extracted himself with as much dignity as possible, which wasn't very much, and after a battle with himself which he'd lost, he'd picked up half a bottle of Bearhugger's Old Persnickety and wandered into the night. Carrot and Angua reached the end of Gleam Street

Leonardo da Vinci Madonna with Yarnwinder

Leonardo da Vinci Madonna with YarnwinderLeonardo da Vinci Madonna LittaLeonardo da Vinci Female Head
Actually, visitors don't often say this. They usually say things like 'Which way to the, you know, the . . . er . . . you know, the young ladies, right?'
But if they started thinking with their brains for a little while, that's what they'd be thinking.
'Sir?' Captain Vimes, while in the presence of the ruler of the city, always concentrated his gaze on a point one foot above and six inches to the left of the man's head.
'And of course you will be quite a rich man, captain.'
'Yes, sir.'
'I hope you have thought about that. You will have new responsibilities:'
'Yes, sir.'The Patrician of Ankh-Morpork sat back on his austere chair with the sudden bright smile of a very busy person at the end of a crowded day who's suddenly found in his schedule a reminder saying: 7.00-7.05, Be Cheerful and Relaxed and a People Person.'Well, of course I was very saddened to receive your letter, captain . . .''Yes, sir,' said Vimes, still as wooden as a furniture warehouse.'Please sit down, captain.''Yes, sir.' Vimes remained standing. It was a matter of pride.'But of course I quite understand. The Ramkin country estates are very extensive, I believe. I'm sure Lady Ramkin will appreciate your strong right hand.'

Gustav Klimt The Virgin

Gustav Klimt The VirginGustav Klimt dancerGustav Klimt Adam and EveFrederic Remington The Cowboy
Jason,” said Carter.
“Yes?”
“I ain’t sure I can stop!”
The Queen examined her face in a mirror attached to the
tent pole.
“Why?” said Granny. “What is it you see?”
“Whatever I want to see,” said the Queen. “You know
that. And now ... let us ride to the castle. Tie her hands
together. But leave alone? How sweet. Someone kill her.”
An elf spurred its horse forward, and raised its sword.
Magrat gripped the battleaxe.
Somewhere behind her a bowstring slammed against wood. The elf jerked. So did one her legs free.”It rained again, gently, although around the stones it turned to sleet. The water dripped off Magrat’s hair and temporarily unraveled the tangles.Mist coiled out from among the trees where summer and winter fought.Magrat watched the elven court mount up. She made out the figure of Verence, moving like a puppet. And Granny Weatherwax, tied behind the Queen’s horse by a long length of rope.The horses splashed through the mud. They had silver bells on their harness, dozens of them.278LOROS ftfVO iftQ/£6The elves in the castle, the night of ghosts and shadows, all of this was just a hard knot in her memory. But the jin-gling of the bells was like a nailfile rubbed across her teeth.The Queen halted the procession a few yards away.“Ah, the brave girl,” she said. “Come to save her fiance, all

Tamara de Lempicka Kizette on the Balcony

Tamara de Lempicka Kizette on the BalconyGustav Klimt Portrait of Adele Bloch BauerBerthe Morisot At the BallClaude Monet Woman In A Green Dress
Blood-Soaked Tragedy of the Mad Monk of Quirm (with Custard-Pie scene)” were far better than being deaf in one ear for five days.
195
Terry Pratchett
He fished a peanut out of the bag and rolled it in his fingers, while staring intently at the left ear of Tailor the other weaver.
And felt his hair rise. This is very noticeable on an orang-utan.
He glanced up at the hill behind the erratic actors, and growled under his breath.
“Oook?”
Ponder nudged him.
“Quiet!” he hissed. “They’re getting the hang of it...”
There was an echo to the voice of the one in the straw wig.
“What’d she say?” said Ponder.
“Oook!”
“Hpw’d she do And that was another thing.
She ought to have been involved in the dress, at least. She was going to—would have been the one wearing it, after all. There should have been weeks of choosing the material, and fittings, and changing her mind, and changing the mate-rial, and changing the pattern, and more fittings ...
. . . although of course she was her own woman and didn’t need that? That’s good makeup, that—“Ponder fell silent.Suddenly the Librarian felt very alone.Everyone else in the audience had their gaze fastened firmly on the turf stage.He moved a hand up and down in front of Stibbons’s face.The air was wavering over the hill, and the grass on its side moved in a way that made the ape’s eyes ache.“Oook?”Over the hill, between the little stones, it began to snow.“Oook?”Alone in her room, Magrat unpacked the wedding dress.

Cao Yong AGE OF INNOCENCE

Cao Yong AGE OF INNOCENCECao Yong AFTERNOON TEACao Yong cao yong Red Umbrella
thought she was fighting you yesterday!” said Magrat.
“Makes no difference,” said Granny. “Morning, your majesty.”
King Verenceto be inter-ested in.
“What happened to her?” said Magrat, inspecting the girl carefully.
Granny looked around the room. Suits of armor, shields hanging on the walls, rusty old swords and pikes . . . proba-bly enough iron here ...
“She was shot by an elf—“
“But—“ said Magrat and Verence at the same time.
“Don’t ask questions now, got no time. Shot by an elf. Them horrible arrows of theirs. They make the mind go wandering off all by itself. Now—can you do anything?” nodded. Some kings would have shouted for the guards at this point but Verence did not because he ‘ was sensible, this was Granny Weatherwax and in any case the only available guard was Shawn Ogg, who was trying to straighten out his trumpet.125Terry PratehettNanny Ogg had drifted over to the sideboard. It wasn’t that she was callous, but it had been a busy few hours and there was a lot of breakfast that no one seemed

Jean Fragonard The Swing

Jean Fragonard The SwingJean Fragonard The Fountain of LoveJoaquin Sorolla y Bastida Valencia's Port
shed was stuffed full of bits of hive, mysterious tor-ture instruments for extracting honey, old jars, and a small stove on which a grubby teapot steamed next to a huge saucepan.
He took her silence for acceptance, and poured out two mugs.
“Is it herbal?” she quavered.
“Buggered if I know.“How do you actually milk them?”
The unicorn prowled through the forest. It felt blind, and out of place. This wasn’t a proper land. The sky was blue, not flaming with all the colors of the aurora. And time was passing. To a creature not bom subject to time, it was a sen-sation not unakin to falling.
It could feel its mistress inside its head, too. That was worse even than the passing of time. It’s just brown leaves out of a tin.”Magrat looked uncertainly into a mug which pure tannin was staining brown. But she rallied. One thing you had to do when you were queen, she knew, was Put Commoners at their Ease. She cast around for some easeful question.“It must be very interesting, being a beekeeper,” she said.100LOR06 ft/YO LftQ/£6“Yes. It is.”“One’s often wondered—““What?”

Benjamin Williams Leader A Fine Day on the Thames

Benjamin Williams Leader A Fine Day on the ThamesAlexei Alexeivich Harlamoff The Flower GirlsAlexei Alexeivich Harlamoff Literary Pursuits of a Young Lady
flows and the mating of queens. He knew
about swarms, and how to destroy wasps’ nests. He got the
general respect He carefully replaced the lid on the hive and walked away. A few bees escaped from the gaping holes in his bee-keeping veil.
“Afternoon, your ladyship,” he conceded.
“Hello, Mr. Brooks. What’ve you been doing?”
Mr. Brooks opened the door of his secret shed, and rum-maged about inside.
“They’re late swarming,” said the beekeeper. “I was just checking up on ‘em. Fancy a cup of tea, girl?”shown to those, like witches and black-smiths, whose responsibilities are not entirely to the worldof the humdrum and everyday—people who, in fact, know99Terry Pratchettthings that others don’t about things that others can’t fath-om. And he was generally found doing something fiddly with the hives, ambling across the kingdom in pursuit of a swarm, or smoking his pipe in his secret shed which smelled of old honey and wasp poison. You didn’t offend Mr. Brooks, not unless you wanted swarms in your privy while he sat cackling in his shed.

George Frederick Watts Watts Choosing

George Frederick Watts Watts ChoosingFrancisco de Zurbaran Rest on the flight to EgyptClaude Lorrain Seaport with the Embarkation of the Queen of Sheba
Brutha's mind gave up, and Brutha's body took over. It brought his hand back and raised it, oblivious to the sudden rush forward of the guards.
He saw Vorbis turn his cheek, and smile.
Brutha stopped, and lowered his hand.
He said, "

A world of silence. No sound up here, except the rush of wind through the feathers.
Up here the world is round, bordered by a band of sea. The viewpoint is from horizon to horizon, the sun is closer.
And yet, looking down, looking for shapes . . .
. . . down in the farmland on the edge of the wil­derness . . .No. I won't."Then, for the first and only time, he saw Vorbis really enraged. There had been times before when the deacon had been angry, but it had been something driven by the brain, switched on and off as the need arose. This was something else, something out of con­trol. And it flashed across his face only for a moment.As the hands of the guards closed on him, Vorbis stepped forward and patted him on the shoulder. He looked Brutha in the eye for a moment and then said softly:"Thrash him within an inch of his life and burn him the rest of the way."An Iam began to speak, but stopped when he saw Vorbis's expression."Do it now."

Franz Marc Der Traum

Franz Marc Der TraumFranz Marc Blaues PferdchenMarc Chagall The Fall of Icarus
don't know, my lord. Perhaps you could tell me what he looks like?"
"I should strike you down now," said Vorbis.
"Oh, certainly."
Vorbis indicated the book.
"These lies. This scandal. This . . . this lure to drag the minds of men from the path of true knowl­edge. You dare to stand before me and declare"-he pushed the book with a toe-"that the world is flat and travels through the void on the back of a giant turtle?"
Brutha held his breath.
So did history.
Affirm "My lord?" he whispered.
"What?" snapped Vorbis.
"He said `no,' " said Brutha.
"That's right," said Didactylos.
Vorbis sat absolutely motionless for a moment.your belief, Brutha thought. Just once, someone please stand up to Vorbis. I can't. But some­one . . .He found his eyes swiveling toward Simony, who stood on the other side of Vorbis's chair. The sergeant looked transfixed, fascinated.Didactylos drew himself up to his full height. He half-turned and for a moment his blank gaze passed across Brutha. The lantern was extended at arm's length."No," he said."When every honest man knows that the world is a sphere, a perfect shape, bound to spin around the sphere of the Sun as Man orbits the central truth of Om," said Vorbis, "and the stars-”Brutha leaned forward, heart pounding.

Pierre Auguste Renoir Dance in the Country

Pierre Auguste Renoir Dance in the CountryPierre Auguste Renoir Dance in the CityJoaquin Sorolla y Bastida Beaching the Boat (study)Joseph Mallord William Turner Mortlake Terrace
Brutha had a good view of the man's face. The change in his expression was like watching a grease slick cross a pond. Then the stableman turned as though his feet were nailed to a turntable.
"My Lord Vorbis"I-I do not know how to ride, my lord," said Brutha.
"Any man can get on a mule," said Vorbis. "Often many times in a short distance. And now, it would appear, we are all here?"
He raised an eyebrow at the sergeant of the guard, who saluted.," he oiled."And now he will require a steed," said Vorbis.The stableman's face was yellow with dread."My pleasure. The very best the sta-”"My friend Brutha is a humble man before Om," said Vorbis. "He will ask for no more than a mule, I have no doubt. Brutha?"We are awaiting General Fri'it, lord," he said.
"Ah. Sergeant Simony, isn't it?"
Vorbis had a terrible memory for names. He knew every one. The sergeant paled a little, and then saluted crisply.
"Yes! Sir!"
"We will proceed without General Fri'it," said Vorbis.

Thomas Kinkade Deer Creek Cottage

Thomas Kinkade Deer Creek CottageThomas Kinkade Cobblestone BridgeThomas Kinkade Clearing StormsThomas Kinkade Bridge of Faith
The petitioners scattered as the eagle made a pass over the Place of Lamentation.
It wheeled, only a few feet above the ground, and perched on the statue of Great Om trampling the Infidel.
It was a !" said the wooden-­legged man. "It don't have to be a sign of anything. That's a suspicious kind of question to ask, what's it a sign of."
"Got to be a sign of something," said the elderly man. "That's a referential wossname. A gerund. Could be a gerund."
A skinny figure appeared at the edge of the group, moving surreptitiously yet with surprising speed. It was wearing the djeliba of the desert tribes, but around its neck was a tray on a strap. There was an ominous suggestion of sticky sweet things covered in dust.magnificent bird, golden-brown and yellow-eyed, and it surveyed the crowds with blank disdain."It's a sign?" said an old man with a wooden leg."Yes! A sign!" said a young woman next to him."A sign!"They gathered around the statue."It's a bugger," said a small and totally unheard voice from somewhere around their feet."But what's it a sign of?" said an elderly man who had been camping out in the square for three days."What do you mean, of? It's a sign

Gustav Klimt The Fulfillment (detail I)

Gustav Klimt The Fulfillment (detail I)Gustav Klimt The Embrace (detail_ square)Gustav Klimt Schloss Kammer Am Attersee II
and beards that you could lose a goat in. But Vorbis shaved all over. He gleamed. And lack of hair seemed to add to his power. He didn't menace. He never threatened. He just gave everyone the feeling that his personal space thinking about in case they turn around very slowly and say "You."
The highest post that could be held in the Quisition was that of deacon, a rule instituted hundreds of years ago to prevent this branch of the Church becoming too big for its boots.[2] But with a mind like his, everyone said, he could easily be an archpriest by now, or even an Iam.
Vorbis didn't worry about that kind of trivia. Vorbis knew his destiny. Hadn't the God himself told him?radiated several meters from his body, and that anyone approaching Vorbis was intruding on something important. Superiors fifty years his senior felt apologetic about interrupting whatever it was he was thinking about.It was almost impossible to know what he was thinking about and no one ever asked. The most obvious reason for this was that Vorbis was the head of the Quisition, whose job it was to do all those things that needed to be done and which other people would rather not do.You do not ask people like that what they are

William Blake the Body of Abel Found by Adam and Eve

William Blake the Body of Abel Found by Adam and EveVincent van Gogh Vase with Twelve SunflowersVincent van Gogh Vase with Daisies and Anemones
. There was a city straddling the river Ankh, but it wasn't one he'd ever seen before; it was white and clean and didn't smell like a privy full of dead herrings.
He landed in Rincewind had always been rather proud of the fact that he always felt alone, even in the teeming city, but it was even worse being alone when he was by himself.
He rolled up the carpet and slung it over one shoulder and padded through the haunted streets towards the University.what had once been the Plaza of Broken Moons, and also in a state of some shock. There were fountains. There had been fountains before, of course, but they had oozed rather than played and they had looked like thin soup. There were milky flagstones underfoot, with little glittery bits in. And, although the sun was sitting on the horizon like half a breakfast grapefruit, there was hardly anyone around. Normally Ankh was permanently crowded, the actual shade of the sky being a mere background detail.Smoke drifted over the city in long greasy coils from the crown of boiling air above the University. It was the only movement, apart from the fountains.

Edward Hopper High Noon

Edward Hopper High NoonEdward Hopper Four Lane RoadEdward Hopper Excursion into Philosophy
...'
'But I'll have you to protect me,' she said.
Rincewind below the patter of feet, the rushes, the gristly noises, the groans, the muffled screams. It could be that some wild animal is pacing through the Shades after two weeks on a starvation diet.
Somewhere near the centre of the Shades - the district has never been adequately mapped - is a small courtyard. Here at least there are torches on the walls, but the light they throw is the light of the Shades themselves: mean, reddened, dark at the core.thought he heard the sound of marching feet several streets away.'You know,' he sighed, 'I knew you’d say that.'Down these mean streets a man must walk, he thought. And along some of them he will break into a run. It is so black in the Shades on this foggy spring night that it would be too dark to read about Rincewind's progress through the eerie streets, so the descriptive passage will lift up above the level of the ornate rooftops, the forest of twisty chimneys, and admire the few twinkling stars that manage to pierce the swirling billows. It will try to ignore the sounds drifting up from

Francois Boucher The Setting of the Sun

Francois Boucher The Setting of the SunFrancois Boucher The Rest on the Flight into EgyptFrancois Boucher The Rape of Europa
motion. In the Ramtop village where they dance the real Morris dance, for example, they believe that no-one is finally dead until the ripples they cause in the world die away - until the clock he wound up winds down, until the wine shethe high moorland under the moon. Not entirely wolves, not entirely human. With any luck, they’d have best of both worlds. Not just feeling . . . but knowing.
Always best to have both worlds.
Death sat in his chair in his dark study, his hands steepled in front of his face.
Occasionally he’d swivel the chair backwards and forwards made has finished its ferment, until the crop they planted is harvested. The span of someone’s life, they say, is only the core of their actual existence. As he walked through the foggy city to an appointment he had been awaiting ever since he was born, Windle felt that he could predict that final end.It would be in a few weeks ‘ time, when the moon was full again. A sort of codicil or addendum to the life of Windle Poons - born in the year of the Significant Triangle in the Century of the Three Lice (he’d always preferred the old calendar with its ancient names to all this new-fangled numbering they did today) and died in the year of the Notional Serpent in the Century of the Fruitbat, more or less.There’d be two figures running across

Juan Gris Violin and Guitar

Juan Gris Violin and GuitarJuan Gris Violin and GlassJuan Gris Violin and Checkerboard
think I can remember one,’ said the Bursar hesitantly.
‘Go on, man. Anything’s worth trying at a time like this.’ The Bursar stretched out a hand. He shut his eyes. He muttered a few syllables under his breath.
There was a brief flicker of octarine light and - ‘Oh, ‘ said the Archchancellor. ‘And that’s all of it?’ ‘ “Eringyas’ Surprising Bouquet”,’ said the Bursar, bright eyed and twitching. ‘I don’t know why, but it’s one I’ve always been able to do. Just a knack, I suppose.’
Ridcully YES, WASN’T IT, he mumbled noncommittally, as she helped him drag it over the stack and weigh it down with stones. The wind caught at it and tried to drag it out of his hands; it might as well have tried to blow a mountain over.
Rain swept over the fields, among shreds of mist that shimmered with blue electric energies.eyed the huge bunch of flowers now gripped in the Bursar’s fist.‘But not, I venture to point out, entirely useful at this time,’ he added.The Bursar looked at the approaching walls and his smile faded.‘I suppose not,’ he said.‘Anyone else got any ideas?’ said Ridcully.There was no reply.‘Nice roses, though,’ said the Dean.‘That was quick,’ said Miss Flitworth, when Bill Door arrived at the pile of stooks dragging a tarpaulin behind him.

Gustav Klimt Goldfish (detail)

Gustav Klimt Goldfish (detail)Salvador Dali TigerSalvador Dali The Sacrament of the Last Supper
FAREWELL, said Bill Door solemnly, and left.
Simnel shut the doors after him, and leaned against them. Whew. Nice man. of course, everyone was talking about him, it was that the spanner sheared in two, as though it was made of bread, several inches from the edge of the blade.
He wondered if something could be so sharp that it began to possess, not just a sharp edge, but the very essence of sharpness itself, a field of absolute sharpness that actually extended beyond the last atoms of metal.
‘Bloody hell ‘
And then he remembered that this was sloppy and superstitious just that after a couple of minutes in his presence you got a pins-and-needles sensation that someone was walking over your grave and it hadn’t even been dug yet. He wandered across the oily floor, filled the tea kettle and wedged it on a corner of the forge. He picked up a spanner to do some final adjustments to the Combination Harvester, and spotted the scythe leaning against the wall. He tiptoed towards it, and realised that tiptoeing was an amazingly stupid thing to do. It wasn’t alive. It couldn’t hear. It just looked sharp. He raised the spanner, and felt guilty about it. By Mr Door had said - well, Mr Door had said something very odd, using the wrong sort of words to use in talking about a mere implement. But he could hardly object to this. Simnel brought the spanner down hard.There was no resistance. He would have sworn, again,

Henri Matisse The Window

Henri Matisse The WindowHenri Matisse The Green LineHenri Matisse Red Fish
back among the hay and thought about the day. It seemed to have been quite a full one. He’d cut hay and fed animals and mended a window. He’d found some old overalls hanging in the barn. They seemed far more appropriate for a Bill Door than a robe woven of absolute darkness, so he’d put them on. And Miss Flitworth had given him a broad-brimmed straw hat.
And. He’d gone inside.

After the initial pause while everyone’s mind had refocused to allow him room, they’d been cautiously hospitable; news travels even faster on a vine with few grapes.
‘You’d be the new man up at Miss Flitworth’s,’ said the barman.’A Mr Door he’d ventured the half-mile walk into the town. It wasn’t even a one horse town. If anyone had a horse, they’d have eaten it. The residents appeared to make a living by stealing one another’s washing. There was a town square, which was ridiculous. It was really only an enlarged crossroads, with a clock tower.And there was a tavern

Peter Paul Rubens Landscape with a Rainbow

Peter Paul Rubens Landscape with a RainbowPeter Paul Rubens Hippopotamus and Crocodile HuntJohn William Godward Summer FlowersJohn William Godward Absence Makes the Heart Grow FonderJohn William Waterhouse In the Peristyle
hundreds of villages in heathen places like Klatch that’d pay good money for a nice prestigious crossroads like this, eh?’ Ridcully looked up at him with his mouth open.
‘What are.
‘We’re burying our colleague. What does it look like?’ said Ridcully. Colon’s eyes swivelled to an open coffin by the side of the road. Windle Poons gave him a little wave.
‘But . . . he’s not dead . . . is he?’ he said, his forehead wrinkling as he tried to get ahead of the situation.
‘Appearances ,,Can be deceptive, ‘ said the Archchancellor. you gabbling about, officer?’ he said. He pointed irritably to his pointy hat.’Didn’t you hear me? We’re wizards. This is wizard business. So if you could just sort of direct the traffic around us, there’s a good chance -‘‘- these peaches bruise as soon as you even look at ‘em -‘ said a voice behind Sergeant Colon.‘The old idiots have been holding us up for half an hour,’ said a cattle drover who had long ago lost control of forty steers now wandering aimlessly around the nearby streets.’I wants ‘em arrested.’ It dawned on the sergeant that he had inadvertently placed himself centre stage in a drama involving hundreds of people, some of them wizards and all of them angry.‘What are you doing, then?’ he said weakly