Paul Gauguin The Loss of VirginityPaul Gauguin Tahitian WomanPaul Gauguin JoyousnessThomas Kinkade country living
the king!” hissed Shawn. “And me without my trumpet!”
“Urn,” said Verence. “Post been yet, Shawn?”
“Oh, yes, sire!” said Shawn, almost as flustered as the king. “Got it right here. Don’t you worry about it! I’ll open it all up and have it on your desk right away, sire!”
“Urn...”
“Something the matter, sire?”
“Um ... I think perhaps ...”
Shawn was , and turned a few pages.
“Hey, look at this one! He’s doing it with his feet! I didn’t know you could do it with your feet!” He nudged Ponder Stibbons. “Look, sir!”
Ridcully peered at the king.already tearing at the wrappers.“Here’s that book on etiquette you’ve been waiting for, sire, and the pig stockbook, and ... what’s this one ... ?”Verence made a grab for it. Shawn automatically tried to hang on to it. The wrapping split, and the large bulky book thumped on to the cobbles. Its fluttering pages played their woodcuts to the breeze.They looked down.“Wow!” said Shawn.“My word,” said Ridcully.“Um,” said the king.“Oook?”Shawn picked up the book very, very carefully
“You all right, your majesty?” he said.
Verence squirmed.
Tuesday, April 21, 2009
Monday, April 20, 2009
Leroy Neiman 16th at Augusta
Leroy Neiman 16th at AugustaSalvador Dali Manhattan SkylineMartin Johnson Heade Cattleya Orchid and Three Brazilian HummingbirdsCaravaggio The Raising of Lazarus
what I mean.”
Nanny Ogg looked worried.
“Supposing Magrat’d been here,” said Granny. “She’d see me being daft.”
“Well, she’s safe in the castle,” said Nanny. “Learning how to be queen.”
“At least the thing about queening,” said Granny, “is that no one notices if you’re doing it wrong. It has to be right ‘cos it’s you doing it.”
“S’funny, royalty,” said Nanny. “It’s like magic. You take some girl with a bum like two pigs in a blanket and a head full of air and then she marries a king or a prince or some-one and suddenly she’s this radiant right royal princess. It’s a funny old world.”
“I ain’t going to kowtow to her, mind,” said Granny.
“You never “Her mother was a Keeble, wasn’t she? Fine woman, as I recall.”
“Yeah, but when she died the old man sent her off to Sto Lat to school.”
57
Terry Pratchett
“Don’t hold with schools,” said Granny Weatherwaxkowtow to anyone anyway,” said Nanny Ogg patiently. “You never bowed to the old king. You barely gives young Verence a nod. You never kowtows to anyone ever, anyway.”“That’s right!” said Granny. “That’s part of being a witch, that is.”Nanny relaxed a bit. Granny being an old woman made her uneasy. Granny in her normal state of barely controlled anger was far more her old self.Granny stood up.“Old Toekley’s girl, eh?”“That’s right.”
what I mean.”
Nanny Ogg looked worried.
“Supposing Magrat’d been here,” said Granny. “She’d see me being daft.”
“Well, she’s safe in the castle,” said Nanny. “Learning how to be queen.”
“At least the thing about queening,” said Granny, “is that no one notices if you’re doing it wrong. It has to be right ‘cos it’s you doing it.”
“S’funny, royalty,” said Nanny. “It’s like magic. You take some girl with a bum like two pigs in a blanket and a head full of air and then she marries a king or a prince or some-one and suddenly she’s this radiant right royal princess. It’s a funny old world.”
“I ain’t going to kowtow to her, mind,” said Granny.
“You never “Her mother was a Keeble, wasn’t she? Fine woman, as I recall.”
“Yeah, but when she died the old man sent her off to Sto Lat to school.”
57
Terry Pratchett
“Don’t hold with schools,” said Granny Weatherwaxkowtow to anyone anyway,” said Nanny Ogg patiently. “You never bowed to the old king. You barely gives young Verence a nod. You never kowtows to anyone ever, anyway.”“That’s right!” said Granny. “That’s part of being a witch, that is.”Nanny relaxed a bit. Granny being an old woman made her uneasy. Granny in her normal state of barely controlled anger was far more her old self.Granny stood up.“Old Toekley’s girl, eh?”“That’s right.”
Friday, April 17, 2009
Mark Spain Sevilla
Mark Spain SevillaMark Spain ReflectionMark Spain Pure Elegance
him an ant once, for a joke, and he’d sat up all
Terry Pratchett
night with a magnifying glass and an anvil made out of the head of a pin. The ant was still around, somewhere—some-times he could hear it clatter across the floor.
But tonight. . . well, tonight, in some way, he was going to pay the rent. Of course, he owned the forge. It had been passed down The wind rose, and somewhere there was the creak of a tree going over.
The latch rattled.
Then there was a knock at the door. Once. Twice.
Jason Ogg picked up his blindfold and put it on. That was important, his dad had said. It saved you getting dis-tracted.
He undid the door.for generations. But there was more to a forge than bricks and mortar and iron. He couldn’t put a name to it, but it was there. It was the difference between being a master farrier and just someone who bent iron in complicated ways for a living. And it had something to do with iron. And something to do with being allowed to be very good at his job. Some kind of rent.One day his dad had taken him aside and explained what he had to do, on nights like this.There’d be times, he said, there’d be times—and he’d know when they were without being told—there’d be times when someone would come with a horse to shoe. Make them welcome. Shoe the horse. Don’t let your mind wander. And try not to think about anything except horseshoes.He’d got quite used to it now.
him an ant once, for a joke, and he’d sat up all
Terry Pratchett
night with a magnifying glass and an anvil made out of the head of a pin. The ant was still around, somewhere—some-times he could hear it clatter across the floor.
But tonight. . . well, tonight, in some way, he was going to pay the rent. Of course, he owned the forge. It had been passed down The wind rose, and somewhere there was the creak of a tree going over.
The latch rattled.
Then there was a knock at the door. Once. Twice.
Jason Ogg picked up his blindfold and put it on. That was important, his dad had said. It saved you getting dis-tracted.
He undid the door.for generations. But there was more to a forge than bricks and mortar and iron. He couldn’t put a name to it, but it was there. It was the difference between being a master farrier and just someone who bent iron in complicated ways for a living. And it had something to do with iron. And something to do with being allowed to be very good at his job. Some kind of rent.One day his dad had taken him aside and explained what he had to do, on nights like this.There’d be times, he said, there’d be times—and he’d know when they were without being told—there’d be times when someone would come with a horse to shoe. Make them welcome. Shoe the horse. Don’t let your mind wander. And try not to think about anything except horseshoes.He’d got quite used to it now.
Thursday, April 16, 2009
Thomas Kinkade Evening on the Avenue
Thomas Kinkade Evening on the AvenueThomas Kinkade Cobblestone ChristmasThomas Kinkade Cobblestone Brooke
fighting was over in Ephebe. It hadn't lasted long, especially when the slaves joined in. There were too many narrow streets, too many ambushes and, above all, too much terrible determination. It's generally held that free men will always triumph over slaves, but perhaps it all depends on your point of view.
Besides, the Ephebian garrison commander had declared somewhat nervously that slavery would henceforth be abolished, which infuriated the slaves. What would be the point of saving up to become free if you couldn't own slaves afterwards? Snakes wriggled into cracks in the stone.
You could live in the desert. Or at least survive . . .
Getting back to Omnia could only be a matter of time. One more day . . .
Vorbis trooped along a little behind him. He said nothing and, when spoken to, gave no sign that he had understood what had been said to him.Besides, how'd they eat?The Omnians couldn't understand, and uncertain people fight badly. And Vorbis had gone. Certainties seemed less certain when those eyes were elsewhere.The Tyrant was released from his prison. He spent his first day of freedom carefully composing messages to the other small countries along the coast.It was time to do something about Omnia. Brutha sang.His voice echoed off the rocks. Flocks of scalbies shook off their lazy pedestrian habits and took off frantically, leaving feathers behind in their rush to get airborne.
fighting was over in Ephebe. It hadn't lasted long, especially when the slaves joined in. There were too many narrow streets, too many ambushes and, above all, too much terrible determination. It's generally held that free men will always triumph over slaves, but perhaps it all depends on your point of view.
Besides, the Ephebian garrison commander had declared somewhat nervously that slavery would henceforth be abolished, which infuriated the slaves. What would be the point of saving up to become free if you couldn't own slaves afterwards? Snakes wriggled into cracks in the stone.
You could live in the desert. Or at least survive . . .
Getting back to Omnia could only be a matter of time. One more day . . .
Vorbis trooped along a little behind him. He said nothing and, when spoken to, gave no sign that he had understood what had been said to him.Besides, how'd they eat?The Omnians couldn't understand, and uncertain people fight badly. And Vorbis had gone. Certainties seemed less certain when those eyes were elsewhere.The Tyrant was released from his prison. He spent his first day of freedom carefully composing messages to the other small countries along the coast.It was time to do something about Omnia. Brutha sang.His voice echoed off the rocks. Flocks of scalbies shook off their lazy pedestrian habits and took off frantically, leaving feathers behind in their rush to get airborne.
Wednesday, April 15, 2009
George Inness Delaware Water Gap
George Inness Delaware Water GapLorenzo Lotto NativityLorenzo Lotto Madonna and Child with Saints
took a deep breath and then pushed himself forward.
It was quite a steep flight of steps. He felt every one as he bumped down, but at least he was upright at the bottom.
He was lost, but being lost in Ephebe was preferable to being lost in the Citadel. At least there were no obvious cellars.
Library, library, library . . .
There was a library in the Citadel, Brutha had said. He'd described it, so Om had some idea of what he was looking for.
There would of the Empire."
"Yes," said the Tyrant. "We believe they are. But we like to remember them as they were. Before you sent them your letters, that put the minds of men in chains."
"That set the feet of men on the right road," said Vorbis.
"Chain letters," said the Tyrant. "The Chain Letter to the Ephebians. Forget Your Gods. Be Subjugated. Learn to Fear. Do not break the chain-the last people who did woke up one morning to find fiftybe a book in it. Peace negotiations were not going well."You attacked us!" said Vorbis."I would call it preemptive defense," said the Tyrant. "We saw what happened to Istanzia and Betrek and Ushistan.""They saw the truth of Om!""Yes," said the Tyrant. "We believe they did, eventually.""And they are now proud members
took a deep breath and then pushed himself forward.
It was quite a steep flight of steps. He felt every one as he bumped down, but at least he was upright at the bottom.
He was lost, but being lost in Ephebe was preferable to being lost in the Citadel. At least there were no obvious cellars.
Library, library, library . . .
There was a library in the Citadel, Brutha had said. He'd described it, so Om had some idea of what he was looking for.
There would of the Empire."
"Yes," said the Tyrant. "We believe they are. But we like to remember them as they were. Before you sent them your letters, that put the minds of men in chains."
"That set the feet of men on the right road," said Vorbis.
"Chain letters," said the Tyrant. "The Chain Letter to the Ephebians. Forget Your Gods. Be Subjugated. Learn to Fear. Do not break the chain-the last people who did woke up one morning to find fiftybe a book in it. Peace negotiations were not going well."You attacked us!" said Vorbis."I would call it preemptive defense," said the Tyrant. "We saw what happened to Istanzia and Betrek and Ushistan.""They saw the truth of Om!""Yes," said the Tyrant. "We believe they did, eventually.""And they are now proud members
Monday, April 13, 2009
Piet Mondrian Composition with Red Yellow and Blue
Piet Mondrian Composition with Red Yellow and BluePiet Mondrian Composition 2Steve Thoms PoppiesEdvard Munch Puberty 1894
the part of his mind not occupied with thoughts of heat, he could feel Brutha's terror and bewilderment. He shouldn't have done that to the boy. Of course he hadn't been watching him. What god did that? Who cared what people did? some kin f divine providence, except that you were divine providence . . . and on your back, getting hotter, preparing to die . . .
That man who'd turned him over. That expression on that mild face. He'd remember that. That expression, not of cruelty, but of some different level of being. That expression of terrible peace . . .
A shadow crossed the sun. Om squinted up into the face of Lu-Tze, who gazed at him with gentle, upsidedown compassion. And then turned him the right way up. And then picked
Heighton After Hours
Belief was the thing. He'd just picked the memory out of the boy's mind, to impress, like a conjuror removing an egg from someone's ear.I'm on my back, and getting hotter, and I'm going to die . . .And yet . . . and yet . . . that bloody eagle had dropped him on a compost heap. Some kind of clown, that eagle. A whole place built of rocks on a rock in a rocky place, and he landed on the one thing that'd break his fall without breaking him as well. And really close to a believer.Odd, that. Made you wonder if it wasn't
the part of his mind not occupied with thoughts of heat, he could feel Brutha's terror and bewilderment. He shouldn't have done that to the boy. Of course he hadn't been watching him. What god did that? Who cared what people did? some kin f divine providence, except that you were divine providence . . . and on your back, getting hotter, preparing to die . . .
That man who'd turned him over. That expression on that mild face. He'd remember that. That expression, not of cruelty, but of some different level of being. That expression of terrible peace . . .
A shadow crossed the sun. Om squinted up into the face of Lu-Tze, who gazed at him with gentle, upsidedown compassion. And then turned him the right way up. And then picked
Heighton After Hours
Belief was the thing. He'd just picked the memory out of the boy's mind, to impress, like a conjuror removing an egg from someone's ear.I'm on my back, and getting hotter, and I'm going to die . . .And yet . . . and yet . . . that bloody eagle had dropped him on a compost heap. Some kind of clown, that eagle. A whole place built of rocks on a rock in a rocky place, and he landed on the one thing that'd break his fall without breaking him as well. And really close to a believer.Odd, that. Made you wonder if it wasn't
Marc Chagall La Mariee
Marc Chagall La MarieePaul Gauguin Yellow ChristPaul Gauguin Where Do We Come From
,' said Coin.
He watched the Librarian shuffle around and head back for the Tower of Art, and a desperate loneliness overcame him.
'I saymean, I could help people. I'm sure you’d like to be human again, wouldn't you?'
The Librarian's everlasting smile hoisted itself a little further up his face, just enough to reveal his teeth.
'Okay, perhaps not,' said Coin hurriedly, 'but there's other things I could do, isn't there?'
The Librarian gazed at him for some time, then dropped his eyes to the boy's hand. Coin gave !' he yelled.'Gook?''What should I do now?''Gook?'Coin waved vaguely at the desolation.'You know, perhaps I could do something about all this?', he said in a voice tilting on the edge of terror. 'Do you think that would be a good idea? I
,' said Coin.
He watched the Librarian shuffle around and head back for the Tower of Art, and a desperate loneliness overcame him.
'I saymean, I could help people. I'm sure you’d like to be human again, wouldn't you?'
The Librarian's everlasting smile hoisted itself a little further up his face, just enough to reveal his teeth.
'Okay, perhaps not,' said Coin hurriedly, 'but there's other things I could do, isn't there?'
The Librarian gazed at him for some time, then dropped his eyes to the boy's hand. Coin gave !' he yelled.'Gook?''What should I do now?''Gook?'Coin waved vaguely at the desolation.'You know, perhaps I could do something about all this?', he said in a voice tilting on the edge of terror. 'Do you think that would be a good idea? I
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)