Frida Kahlo Memory

Frida Kahlo MemoryFrida Kahlo Me and My ParrotsFrida Kahlo Me and My DollFrida Kahlo Luther Burbank
looks like gravel to me, Mrs Cake.'
'Orthopaedic, see?'
Carrot was standing respectfully on the doorstep with his helmet under his arm and a very embarrassed expression on his face.
'Well?' said Angua, not unkindly.
'Er. Good 'Har, har,' said a voice, full of withering cynicism.
She looked down. Gaspode was sitting behind Carrot, trying to glare while scratching himself furiously.
'Last night we chased a cat up a tree,' said Gaspode.
'You and me, eh? We could make it. Fate has thrown us together, style of fing.'
'Go away.'
'Sorry?' said Carrot.
'Not you. That dog.'
Carrot turned.
'Him? Is he bothering you now? He's a nice little chapmorning. I thought, you know, perhaps, you not knowing very much about the city, really. I could, if you like, if you don't mind, not having to go on duty for a while . . . show you some of it. . .?'For a moment Angua thought she'd contracted pre-science from Mrs Cake. Various futures flitted across her imagination.'I haven't had breakfast,' she said.'They make a very good breakfast in Gimlet's dwarf delicatessen in Cable Street.''It's lunchtime.''It's breakfast time for the Night Watch.''I'm practically vegetarian.''He does a soya rat.'She gave in. 'I'll fetch my coat.'

Herbert James Draper Ulysses and the Sirens

Herbert James Draper Ulysses and the SirensHerbert James Draper LamiaHerbert James Draper Lament for Icarus
finished taking his The Patrician was not a gardens kind of person. But some of his predecessors had been, and Lord Vetinari never changed or destroyed anything if there was no logical reason to do so. He maintained the little zoo, and the racehorse stable, and even recognized that the gardens themselves were of extreme historic interest because this was so obviously the case.
They had been laid out by Bloody Stupid Johnson.
Many great landscape gardeners have gone down in history and been remembered in a very solid way by the magnificent parks and gardens that they designed with almost god-like power and foresightexercise and, besides, it gave the whole thing a pleasing symmetry.He called it 'the-turning-the-wheel-with-pedals-and-another-wheel-machine'. Lord Vetinari was also at work.Normally, he was in the Oblong Office or seated in his plain wooden chair at the foot of the steps in the palace of Ankh-Morpork; there was an ornate throne at the top of the steps, covered with dust. It was the throne of Ankh-Morpork and was, indeed, made of gold. He'd never dreamed of sitting on it.But it was a nice day, so he was working in the garden.Visitors to Ankh-Morpork were often surprised to find that there were some interesting gardens attached to the Patrician's Palace.

Cao Yong WINDS OF LOVE

Cao Yong WINDS OF LOVECao Yong Walk In GardenCao Yong VILLA ENCANTADACao Yong TWILIGHT BY THE FOUNTAINCao Yong TRANSAMERICA PYRAMID
least you’ll be so good as to run up to my place and bring everything that’s in the bottom of the dresser.”
“Yes, Esme.”
“But before that you’ll call in at your Jason’s and tell him to get the forge good and hot.”
Nanny Ogg unwound down to her waist when she shook her head a cou-ple of times.
Nanny watched in paralyzed fascination as she reached up again and broke a single hair at its root.
Granny Weatherwax’s hands made a complicated motion in the air as she made a noose out of something almost too thin to see. She ignored the thrashing horn and dropped it over the unicorn’s neck. Then she pulled.
Struggling, its unshod hooves kicking up great clods of mud, the unicorn struggled to its feet.
“That’ll never hold it,” said Nanny, sidling around the tree.
“I could hold it with a cobweb, Gytha Ogg. With a cob-web. Now go about your business.”
“Yes, Esme.”stared down at the struggling unicorn. It507Terry Pratchettseemed to be stuck, terrified of Granny but at the same time quite unable to escape.“Oh, Esme, you’re never going to ask our Jason to—““I won’t ask him to do anything. And I ain’t asking you, neither.”Granny Weather-wax removed her hat, skimming it into the bushes. Then, her eyes never leaving the animal, she reached up to the iron-gray bun of her hair and removed a few crucial pins.The bun uncoiled a waking snake of fine hair, which

Franz Marc fate animals

Franz Marc fate animalsFranz Marc Blue HorseMarc Chagall The Three CandlesMarc Chagall Paris Through the Window
pointed out their responsibility as loyal subjects. He point-ed out that other people currently not here but at home hiding under the bed would, after the glorious victory, wish they’d been there too instead of under the aforesaid bed which they were hiding uh. Please?
The silence that followed was broken by Nanny Ogg, who said, “They’re probably considering it a bit, Shawn. Why don’t you take Mr. Wizard here up to his room and help him with his crossbow?”
She nodded meaningfully in the direction of the stairs.
Shawn wavered, but not for long. He’d seen the glint in his mother’s eye.under, you know, the bed he’d just mentioned. In fact it was better that there were so few here to face the enemy, because that meant that there would be a higher percentage of honor per surviving head. He used the word “glory” three times. He said that in times to come people would look back on this day, whatever the date was, and proudly show their scars, at least those who’d survived would show their scars, and be very proud and probably have drinks bought for them. He advised people to imitate the action of the Lancre Reciprocating Fox and stiffen some sinews while leaving them flexible enough so’s they could move their arms and legs, in fact, probably it’d be better to relax them a bit now and stiffen them properly when the time came. He suggested that Lancre expected everyone to do their duty. And urn. And

Andrea Mantegna Madonna with Sleeping Child

Andrea Mantegna Madonna with Sleeping ChildAlbert Bierstadt California SpringAlbert Bierstadt The Mountain Brook
then.”
“Then how will anyone know I’m a wizard?”
“I’ll be sure to tell them!”
Granny Weatherwax strands of If bunch together to pass through the Now, then certain things leak across. Tiny signals, perhaps, but audible to a receiver skilled enough.
In her head were the faint, insistent thoughts of a thou-sand Esme Weatherwaxes.
Magrat wasn’t sure what to pack. Most of her original
clothes seemed to have evaporated since she’d been in the
castle, and it was hardly good manners to take the oneswas getting rattled. She was also, despite everything that she’d said, getting lost. But the point was that you couldn’t get lost between the weir at the bot-tom of the Lancre rapids and Lancre town itself. It was uphill all the way Besides, she’d walked through the local forests all her life. They were her forests.She was pretty sure they’d passed the same tree twice.There was a bit of Ridcully’s robe hanging on it.It was like getting lost in her own garden.She was also sure she’d seen the unicorn a couple of times. It was tracking them. She’d tried to get into its mind. She might as well have tried to climb an ice wall.It wasn’t as if her own mind was tranquil. But now at least she knew she was sane.When the walls between the universes are thin, when the parallel

William Blake Los

William Blake LosWilliam Blake the Body of Abel Found by Adam and EveVincent van Gogh Vase with Twelve Sunflowers
hard to know if animals understand obligations, or the nature of transactions. But that doesn’t matter. They’re built into witchcraftcomb her ears.
They had broken in somewhere. She could feel it in the trees, in the minds of tiny animals. She was planning some-thing. Something soon. There was of course nothing special about midsummer in the occult sense, but there was in the minds of people. And the minds of people was where eleves were strong.
Granny knew that sooner or later she’d have to face the Queen. Not Magrat, but the real Queen.
And she would lose.. If you want to really upset a witch, do her a favor which she has no means of repaying. The unful-filled obligation will nag at her like a hangnail.Granny Weatherwax had been riding the hare’s mind all night. Now she owed it something. There’s be bread and milk left outside for a few days.You had to repay, good or bad. There was more than one type of obligation. That’s what people never really under-stood, she told herself as she stepped back into the kitchen. Magrat hadn’t understood it, nor that new girl. Things had to balance. You couldn’t set out to be a good witch or a bad witch. It never worked for long. All you could try to be was a witch, as hard as you could.She sat down by the cold hearth, and resisted a tempta-tion to

Leroy Neiman Chicago Board of Trade

Leroy Neiman Chicago Board of TradeLeroy Neiman CasinoLeroy Neiman Carnaval Suite Passistas
all our money and things.
And then there’s nighttime robbery, which is like daytime
robbery except they set fire to the coach so’s they can see
what they’re about. Twilight robbery, now, your basic twi-
light robbery is—“
“Are you saying,” said Ridcully, “that getting robbed is included in the price?”
“Bandits’ Guild,” said the coachman. “Forty dollars per head, see. It’s a kind of flat rate.”
“What happens if we don’t pay it?” said Ridcully.
“You end up flat.”
“Oook?”
Nanny Ogg’s broomstick skimmed a few feet above the for-est paths, cornering so fast that her boots scraped through the leaves. She leapt off at Granny Weather-wax’s cottage so quickly that she didn’t switch it off, and it kept going until it stuck in the privy.
LQR08 ft/YO LftOIEQThe wizards went into a huddle.“We’ve got a hundred and fifty dollars,” said Ridcully.“We can’t get any more out of the safe because the Bursarate the key yesterday”“Can I try an idea, sir?” said Ponder.“All right.”Ponder gave the coachman a bright smile.“Pets travel free?” he suggested.

Mark Spain Encore

Mark Spain EncoreMark Spain Dance IMark Spain Crescendo II
THE CHOCOLATE OUGHT TO MELT OUT WHEN THEY’RE BAKED. HOW DO THEY DO IT, DO YOU THINK?
“Tis probably a craft secret,” said Jason. “I never asks that kind o’ question.”
GOOD MAN. VERY WISE. I MUST—
He had to ask, if only so’s he’d always know that he had asked.
“M’lord?”a change in the air movement which suggested to Jason that the speaker was now standing in front of him.
ARE YOU A MAN OF FAITH, MR. OGG?
Jason gave this some swift consideration. Lancre was not
10
LORDS ft/YQ LfiQIEQ
knee-deep in religions. There were the Nine Day Wonderers, and the Strict Offlians, and there were YES, MR. OGG?“I ‘as got one question ...”YES, MR. OGG?Jason ran his tongue over his lips.“If I were to ... take the blindfold off, what’d I see?”There. It was done now.There was a clicking sound on the flagstones, and

Pablo Picasso The Shadow

Pablo Picasso The ShadowPablo Picasso The Pipes of PanPablo Picasso Studio with Plaster Head
Brutha could see the shackles attached to each iron leg. A man, or a woman, could with great discomfort lie spread-eagled on the back of the turtle and be chained firmly at the wrists and ankles.
He bent down. Yes, there was the firebox underneath. Some aspects of Quisition thinking never changed.
That much iron would take ages to heat up to the point of pain. Much time, therefore, to reflect on things . . .
"What do you think?" said Vorbis.
A vision of the Cut-Me-Own-Hand-Off Dhblah beamed over the top of his lukewarm ice-cold sherbet stand.
"Heard it on the grapevine," he said. "Here, have a slab of Klatchian Delight. Free. Onna stick."
The Place was more crowded than usual. Even Dhblah's hot future flashed across Brutha's mind."Ingenious," he said."And it will be a salutary lesson for all others tempted to stray from the path of true knowledge," said Vorbis."When do you intend to, uh, demonstrate it?""I am sure an occasion will present itself," said Vorbis.When Brutha straightened up, Vorbis was staring at him so intently that it was as if he was reading Brutha's thoughts off the back of his head."And now, please leave," said Vorbis. "Rest as much as you can . . . my son." Brutha walked slowly across the Place, deep in unaccustomed thought."Afternoon, Your Reverence.""You know already?"

Edward Hopper Excursion into Philosophy

Edward Hopper Excursion into PhilosophyEdward Hopper Drug StoreEdward Hopper Conference at NightEdward Hopper City Sunlight
There's fruit," he said. "What're these berries?" "Grapes," said Om. "Raw material for wine."
"You mentioned that word before. What does it mean?"
There was a cry from outside.
"Brutha! "
"That's Vorbis. I'll have to go."
Vorbis was standing in the middle of his cell.
"Have you eaten anything?" he demanded.
"No, lord."
"Fruit and meat, Brutha. And this is a fast day. They seek to insult us!"
"Um. Perhaps they don't know that it is a fast day?" Brutha hazarded.
"Ignorance is itself a sin," said Vorbis.
"Ossory VII,.
Vorbis turned away.
"Shall I remind the others?" Brutha said.
"No. Our ordained brothers will not, of course, require reminding. As for soldiers . . . a little licence, perhaps, is allowable this far from home . . ." verse 4," said Brutha automatically.Vorbis smiled and patted Brutha's shoulder."You are a walking book, Brutha. The Septateuch perambulatus. "Brutha looked down at his sandals.He's right, he thought. And I had forgotten. Or at least, not wanted to remember.And then he heard his own thoughts echoed back to him: it's fruit and meat and bread, that's all. That's all it is. Fast days and feast days and Prophets' Days and bread days . . . who cares? A God whose only concern about food now is that it's low enough to reach?I wish he wouldn't keep patting my shoulder
Brutha wandered back to his cell.

Paul Gauguin Spirit of the Dead Watching

Paul Gauguin Spirit of the Dead WatchingPaul Gauguin Hail MaryHenri Matisse Woman with a Hat
blinked muzzily. This was nearly as bad as eagles. It was nearly as bad as the cellar . . . no, perhaps nothing was as bad as the cellar . . .
He caught a in hopelessness, saying, "Lord, Lord, why must my son be taken to join your Divine Legion? Who now will tend the farm? Could you not take some other boy?"
"Don't worry about it," squeaked Om.
A sandal caught him under his tail and flicked him several yards across the square. No one was looking down. It was generally believed that staring fixedly at the golden horns on the temple roof while uttering the prayer gave it added potency. Where the presence of the tortoise was dimly registered few words before another passing foot kicked him away."The drought has been on our village for three years . . . a little rain, oh Lord?"Rotating on the top of his shell, vaguely wondering if the right answer might stop people kicking him, the Great God muttered, "No problem."Another foot bounced him, unseen by any of the pious, between the forest of legs. The world was a blur.He caught an ancient voice, steeped

Franz Marc Zwei Katzen

Franz Marc Zwei KatzenFranz Marc yellow cowFranz Marc Tiger
Rincewind crept closer to the Thing. This particular one had chicken legs, but most of the rest of it was mercifully hidden in what looked like folded wings.
It was, he thought, time for a few last words. What he said now was likely to be very important. Perhaps they would be words that would be remembered, and handed down, and maybe even carved deeply in slabs of granite.
Words without too many curly letters in, therefore.gave a shrill buzz, spun wildly with its wings creaking open, lunged vaguely at Rincewind with its vulture head and got another sockful of sand on the upswing.
Rincewind looked around desperately as the Thing staggered back, and saw Coin still standing where he had left him. To his horror he saw the boy begin to walk towards him, hands raised instinctively to fire the magic which, here, would doom both of them.
'Run away, you idiot!' he screamed, as the Thing began to gather
'I really wish I wasn't here,' he muttered.
He hefted the sock, whirled it once or twice, and smashed the Thing on what he hoped was its kneecap.
It gave a shrill buzz, spun wildly with its wings creaking open, lunged vaguely at Rincewind with its vulture head and got another sockful of sand on the upswing.

Franz Marc Die kleinen gelben Pferde

Franz Marc Die kleinen gelben PferdeFranz Marc Deer in the Woods IIFranz Marc Blaues Pferd 1
looked down at his foot, and said, 'Ow.'
He'd almost reached the fire when the blast from the last spell reached them. It had been aimed at the tower in Al Khali, 'Oh, that,' said Rincewind. 'Just the backwash of a spell. They probably hit the tower in Al Khali.'
'It must have been pretty big to affect us here.'
'It probably was.'
'Hey, that was my palace,' said Creosote weakly. 'I mean, I know it was a lot, but it was all I had.'
'Sorry.'
'But there were people in the city!'which was twenty miles away, and by now the wavefront was extremely diffuse. It was hardly affecting the nature of things as it surged over the dunes with a faint sucking noise; the fire burned red and green for a second, one of Nijel's sandals turned into a small and irritated badger, and a pigeon flew out of the Seriph's turban.Then it was past and boiling out over the sea.'What was that?' said Nijel. He kicked the badger, who was sniffing at his foot.'Hmm?' said Rincewind.'That!'

Pino close to my heart

Pino close to my heartUnknown Artist Albert Edelfelt VirginieUnknown Artist Albert Edelfelt male nude 1
shut up, all right?'
The haze still hung over the city, its curtains of silver and gold turned to blood by the light of the setting sun which thoughts, which at the moment was more than he did.
His skin prickled as the two wizards crossed the floor and felt the blast of a raw magic flowing outwards from the seated figure.
Several dozen of the most senior wizards were clus­tered around the stool, staring in awe at the floor.
Spelter craned to see, and saw-
The world.streamed in through the windows of the hall.Coin was sitting on a stool with his staff across his knees. It occurred to Spelter that he had never seen the boy without it, which was odd. Most wizards kept their staves under the bed, or hooked up over the fireplace.He didn't like this staff. It was black, but not because that was its colour, more because it seemed to be a move­able hole into some other, more unpleasant set of dimensions. It didn't have eyes but, nevertheless, it seemed to stare at Spelter as if it knew his innermost

Lord Frederick Leighton The Painter's Honeymoon

Lord Frederick Leighton The Painter's HoneymoonLord Frederick Leighton Leighton Mother and ChildLord Frederick Leighton Leighton Music Lesson
Billias grinned at the boy, who returned it with a stare that focused on a point a few inches beyond the back of the old wizard's head.
Somewhat spell, it couldn't move mountains, but achieving the fine detail built into Maligree's complex syllables took a finely tuned skill.
'You will observe,' Billias added, 'nothing up my sleeve.'
His lips began to move. His hands flickered through the air. A pool of golden sparks sizzled in the palm of his hand, curved up, formed a faint sphere, began to fill in the detail ...
Legend had it that Maligree, one of the last of the true sourcerers, created the Garden disconcerted, Billias flexed his fingers. Suddenly this wasn't quite the game he had intended, and he felt an overpowering urge to impress. It was swiftly overtaken by a surge of annoyance at his own stupidity in being unnerved.'I shall show you,' he said, and took a deep breath, 'Maligree's Wonderful Garden.'There was a susurration from the diners. Only four wizards in the entire history of the University had ever succeeded in achieving the complete Garden. Most wizards could create the trees and flowers, and a few had managed the birds. It wasn't the most powerful

Henri Rousseau Merry Jesters

Henri Rousseau Merry JestersHenri Rousseau Exotic LandscapeHenri Rousseau Exotic Landscape 1908
Windle clapped his hands together, and rubbed them thoughtfully.
‘Ah,’ he said, ‘that’s where we’re ahead of the game.’
He walked into the glow.
He’d never seen such bright light. It seemed to emanate from everywhere, hunting down every last shadow and eradicating it ruthlessly. It was much brighter than daylight without being anything like it - there was a blue edge to it that cut vision like a knife.
‘You all right, Count?’ he said.
‘Fine, fine,’ said Arthur.
Lupine growled.
Ludmilla . They wanted nearly seventy dollars to do our vault. Didn’t they, Arthur?’
‘Nearly seventy dollars,’ said Arthur.
‘I don’t think anyone built it,’ said Windle quietly. Cracks. There should be cracks, he thought. Edges and things, where one slab joins another. It shouldn’t be all one piece. And slightly sticky. ‘So Arthur did it himself.’
‘I did it myself.’pulled at a tangle of metal.‘There’s something under this, you know. It looks like . . . marble. Orange-coloured marble.’ She ran her hand over it. ‘But warm. Marble shouldn’t be warm, should it?’‘It can’t be marble. There can’t be this much marble in the whole world . . . vorld, ‘ said Doreen. ‘We tried to get marble for the vault,’ she tasted the sound of the word and nodded to herself, ‘the vault, yes. Those dwarfs should be shot, the prices they charge. It’s a disgrace.’ ‘I don’t think dwarfs built this,’ said Windle. He knelt down awkwardly to examine the floor.‘I shouldn’t think so, the lazy little buggers

Rene Magritte Homesickness

Rene Magritte HomesicknessArthur Hughes PhyllisFranz Marc Zwei Katzen
struck . . . split . . . slid . . .
Not that the wizard would have paid much attention, because he’d be too busy worrying about the five-thousand-mile walk back home.
Miss Flitworth panted up as the new day streamed past. Bill Door was absolutely still, only the blade moving between ‘Sudl )oodle-riod!’
)-a~n)
Then he lowered the blade.
THAT’S SHARP.
His grin faded, or at least faded as much as it was able to. Miss Flitworth turned, following the line of his gaze until it intersected a ?kint? haze over the cornfields.
It looked like a pale grey robe, empty but still somehow maintaining his fingers as he angled it against the light. Finally he seemed satisfied. He turned around and swished stuck her hands on her hips.’Oh, come on,’ she said,‘No-one can ) ) 9ny- ) )on day )) sharpen ) ) thing) She paused.He waved the blade again.‘Go / )ief.’) od gr) Down in the yard. Cyril stretched his bald neck for another 90~ Bill Door grinned, and sivung the blade towards the sound.

Thomas Kinkade Victorian Autumn

Thomas Kinkade Victorian AutumnThomas Kinkade The Night Before ChristmasThomas Kinkade The Good Life
The wizards fell silent. The frost in the octogram began to sublime back into air.
‘Oh-oh, ‘ said the Bursar.
‘Short go.’
‘Not just people,’ said the Senior Wrangler.’It must be everything. Every thing that dies.’
‘Filling up the wadd with life force,’ said Ridcully. The wizards were speaking in a monotone, everyone’s mind running ahead of the conversation to the distant horror of the conclusion. ‘Hanging around with nothing to do,’ said the Lecturer in Recent Runes.
‘Ghosts.’transitional period? Is that what this is?’ said the Dean.The floor shook.‘Oh-oh, ‘ said the Bursar again.‘That doesn’t explain why everything is Living a life of its own,’ said the Senior Wrangler.‘Hold on . . . hold on,’ said Ridcully, ‘If people are coming to the end of their life and leaving their bodies and everything, but Death isn’t taking them away -‘ ‘Then that means they’re queuing up here,’ said the Dean. ‘With nowhere to

Andrew Atroshenko What a Wonderful Life

Andrew Atroshenko What a Wonderful LifeAndrew Atroshenko Just for LoveEdward Hopper Two on the AisleEdward Hopper Corn Hill Truro Cape CodEdward Hopper Bridle Path
need something that’s in blood. Hemogoblins, I think it’s called.’
The other wizards looked at him.
The Dean shrugged.’Search me,’ he said.’Hemo-goblins. That’s what it said. It’s all to do with people having iron in their blood.’ ‘I’m damn sure I’ve got no iron goblins in my blood,’ said the Senior-Wrangler.
‘At least they’re better than zombies,’ said the Dean.’A much better class of people. Vampires don’t go shuffling around the whole time.’ ‘People can be turned into zombies, you know,’ said the Lecturer in Recent work. No. 95, Spikefish liver and Dum-dum root . . . didn’t work. No. 96 -‘ ‘What are you talking about?’ the Archchancellor demanded. ‘I was simply pointing out the intrinsic unlikelihood of -‘ ‘Shut up,’ said the Archchancellor, matter-of-factly.’Seems to me . . . seems to me . . . look, death must be going on, right? Death has to happen. That’s what bein’ alive is all about. You’re alive, and then you’re dead. It can’t just stop happening.’
‘But he didn’t turn up for Windle, ‘ the Dean pointed out.Runes, in conversational tones.’You don’t even need magic. Just the liver of a certain rare fish and the extract of a particular kind of root. One spoonful, and when you wake up, you ‘re a zombie.’ ‘What type of fish?’ said the Senior Wrangler.‘How shauld I know?’‘How should anyone know, then?’ said the Senior Wrangler nastily.’Did someone wake up one morning and say, hey, here’s an idea, I’ll just turn someone into a zombie, all I’ll need is some rare fish liver and a piece of root, it’s just a matter of finding the right one? You can see the queue outside the hut, can’t you? No. 94, Red Stripefish liver and Maniac root . . . didn’t