Jack Vettriano The Cigar Divan

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did you know who I am?' said Susan.
I HAVE A UNIQUE MEMORY.
'How can you remember me? I haven't even been conceived yet!'
I DID SAY UNIQUE. YOUR NAME IS­–
'Susan, but . . .'
SUSAN? said Death bitterly. THEY REALLY WANTED TO MAKE SURE, DIDN'T THEY?
He sat down in 'Well . . . you've got bony knees.'
Death stared at her.
BONY KNEES?
'Sorry.'
YOU CAME HERE TO TELL ME THAT?
'You've gone missing back . . . there. I'm having to do the Duty. Albert is very worried. I came here to . . . find things out. I didn't know my father worked for you.'
HE WAS VERY BAD AT IT.his chair, steepled his fingers and looked at Susan over the top of them.She looked back, matching stare for stare.TELL ME, said Death, after a while, WAS I . . . WILL I BE . . . AM I A GOOD GRANDFATHER?Susan bit her lip thoughtfully.'If I tell you, won't that be a paradox?'NOT FOR US.

Joaquin Sorolla y Bastida Beaching the Boat (study)

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couldn't remember ever having been young. It must have happened thousands of years ago. He was seventy‑nine, but Time in Death's house was a reusable resource.
He was vaguely aware that childhood was a tricky business, especially towards the end. There was all the business with pimples and The Queen doesn't actually have to come around to your actual house, hog the chair and the TV remote control, and issue actual commands about how one is parched and would enjoy a cup of tea. It all takes place automatically, like gravity. Except that, unlike gravity, it needs someone at the top. They don't necessarily have to do a great deal. They just have to be there. They just have to be.bits of your body having a mind of their own. Running the executive arm of mortality was certainly an extra problem.But the point was, the horrible, inescapable point was, that someone had to do it.For, as has been said before, Death operated in general rather than particular terms, just like a monarchy.If you are a subject in a monarchy, you are ruled by the monarch. All the time. Waking or sleeping. Whatever you ‑ or they ‑ happen to be doing.It's part of the general conditions of the situation.

Paul Gauguin Tahitian Woman

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dock basins and cattle-yards. Even though he thought of the whole city as belonging to him, this wasn't his territory. There were rats here wall or a low-roofed hut, and Gaspode would limp around in circles until he found it again.
Random thoughts wavered in his schizophrenic doggy mind.
'Clever Dog Saves The Day,' he muttered. 'Everyone Says, Good Doggy. No they don't, I'm only doing it 'cos I was threatened. The Marvellous Nose. I didn't want to do this. You Shall Have A Bone. I'm just flotsam on the sea of life, me. Who's a Good Boy? Shut up.'almost as big as he was, and he was basically a sort of terrier shape, and Ankh-Morpork rats were intelligent enough to recognize it. He'd also been kicked by two horses and almost run over by a cart. And he'd lost the scent. She'd doubled back and forth and used rooftops and crossed the river a few times. Werewolves were instinctively good at avoiding pursuit; after all, the surviving ones were descendants of those who could outrun an angry mob. Those who couldn't outwit a mob never had descendants, or even graves.Several times the scent petered out at a

John William Waterhouse Psyche Entering Cupid's Garden

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of us?' he said, nervously. 'Er. Shouldn't a couple of senior officers stay up here? In case anything happens?'
'Do you mean in case anything happens up here?' said Angua, tartly. 'Or in case anything happens down there?'
'I'll go with the side of the bath, but produced some matches and lit it for him.
'Thank you, Willikins. What's your first name?'
'First name, sir?'
'I mean, what do people call you when they've got to knoLance-Constable Cuddy and Lance-Constable Detritus,' said Carrot. 'I don't think anyone else ought to come.''But it could be dangerous!' said Angua.'If I find who's been shooting at Watchmen,' said Carrot, 'it will be.' Samuel Vimes reached up with a big toe and turned on the hot tap.There was a respectful knock at the door, and Willikins old-retainer'd in.'Would sir be wanting anything?'Vimes thought about it.'Lady Ramkin said you wouldn't be wanting any alcohol,' said Willikins, as if reading his thoughts.'Did she?''Emphatically, sir. But I have here a very fine cigar.'He winced as Vimes bit the end off and spat it over

Frida Kahlo The Suicide of Dorothy Hale

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know. Shall I ask him to go away?' said a voice from around keyhole level.
Angua thought quickly. The other residents had warned her about this. She waited for her cue.
'Oh, thanks, love. Oi was forgetting,' said the voice.
You had to pick your time, with Mrs Cake. It was difficult, living in a house run by someone whose mind was only nominally attached to the present. Mrs Cake was a psychic.
'You've got your 'Yes, oi think that's all sorted out,' said Mrs Cake. 'Sorry, dear. Oi get terrible headaches if'n people don't fill in the right bits. Are you human,
'You can come in, Mrs Cake.'
It wasn't much of a room. It was mainly brown. Brown oilcloth flooring, brown walls, a picture over the brown bed of a brown stag being attacked by brown dogs on a brown moorland against a sky which, contrary to established meteorological knowledge, was brown. There was a brown wardrobe. Possibly, if you fought your way through the mysterious old coats[in it, you'd break through into a magical fairyland precognition switched on again, Mrs Cake,' said Angua, swinging her legs out of bed and rummaging quickly through the pile of clothes on the chair.'Where'd we got to?' said Mrs Cake, still on the other side of the door.'You just said, "I don't know, shall I ask him to go away?" Mrs Cake,' said Angua. Clothes! That was always the trouble! At least a male werewolf only had to worry about a pair of shorts and pretend he'd been on a brisk run.'Right.' Mrs Cake coughed. ' "There's a young man downstairs asking for you",' she said.' "Who is it?",' said Angua.There was a moment's silence.

Andrea Mantegna Adoration of the Magi

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Carrot, 'definitely a strong-minded woman, eh?''Too true,' said Vimes.Something crunched under Carrot's enormous sandal.'More glass,' he said. 'It went a long way, didn't it.''Exploding dragons! What an imagination the girl has.''Woof mindedly kicked him into the gutter and had gone a few steps before they suddenly thought: I'm a bastard, what am I?
'There is something up there,' said Carrot. 'Look . . . something blue, hanging off that gargoyle.'
'Woof woof, woof! Would you credit it?'
Vimes stood on Carrot's shoulders and walked his hand up the wall, but the little blue strip was still out of reach.
The gargoyle rolled a stony eye towards him.
'Do you mind?' said Vimes. 'It's hanging on your ear With a grinding of stone on stone, the gargoyle reached up a hand and unhooked the intrusive material.
'Thank you.'woof,' said a voice behind them.'That damn dog's been following us,' said Vimes.'It's barking at something on the wall,' said Carrot.Gaspode eyed them coldly.'Woof woof, bloody whine whine,' he said. 'Are

Pop art long stage ray

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whinnied softly, turned, and galloped down the street, toward the forest...
Nanny Ogg appeared silently behind Granny Weatherwax as she watched it go.
“Silver shoes?” she said quietly “They’ll last no time at all.”
“And silver nails. “Are you?”
“Well. . . Mr. Casanunda did ask if I could show him the Long Man. You know. Properly. I suppose it’s him being a dwarf. They’re very interested in earthworks.”
“Can’t get enough of them,” said Casanunda.
Granny rolled her eyes.They’ll last for long enough,” said Granny, speaking to the world in general. “And she’ll never get it back, though she calls it for a thousand years.”“Shoeing the unicorn,” said Nanny, shaking her head.“Only you’d think of shoeing a unicorn, Esme.”“I’ve been doing it all my life,” said Granny.Now the unicorn was a speck on the moorland. As they watched, it disappeared into the evening gloom.Nanny Ogg sighed, and broke whatever spell there was.“So that’s it, then.”“Yes.”“Are you going to the dance up at the castle?”