Frida Kahlo The Suicide of Dorothy Hale

Frida Kahlo The Suicide of Dorothy HaleFrida Kahlo Sun and LifeFrida Kahlo Still Life with Parrot
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

Andrea Mantegna Adoration of the MagiThomas Moran Entrance to the Grand Canal, VeniceJean Francois Millet The Walk to Work
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

Pop art long stage rayPop art lazy afternoonPop art king elvis on redPop art kim gordon on bluePop art green on green
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?”

Paul Klee Fish Magic

Paul Klee Fish MagicPaul Klee Around the FishPaul Klee Ancient SoundRene Magritte Homesickness
Ridcully shook himself. “What’s happening?” he said.
“I don’t know!” said Shawn, who was almost in tears. “I think we’re being attacked by elves! Nothing anyone’s telling me’s making any sense! Somehow they arrived during the Entertainment! Or something!”
Ridcully looked around at the frightened, bewildered
people.
267
Terry Pratchett
“And Miss Magrat’s gone out to fight them alonel”
Ridcully “They ain’t got me, then,” said Nanny Ogg, behind him.
“Mum? How did you get in?”
“Broomstick. You’d better get some people with bows up on the roof. I came down that way. So can others.”looked perplexed.“Who’s Miss Magrat?”“She’s going to be queen! The bride! You know? Magrat Garlick?”Ridcully’s mind could digest one fact at a time.“What’s she gone out for?”“They captured the king!”“Did you know they’ve got Esme Weatherwax as well?”“What, Granny Weatherwax?”“I came back to rescue her,” said Ridcully, and then real-ized that this sounded either nonsense or cowardly.Shawn was too upset to notice. “I just hope they’re not collecting witches,” he said. “They’ll need our mum to get the complete set.”

Horace Vernet The Lion Hunt

Horace Vernet The Lion HuntSir Henry Raeburn The Reverend Robert Walker SkatingJean Auguste Dominique Ingres Princesse Albert de BrogliePeter Paul Rubens The Judgment of Paris
to run away! She was trying to get my hood off! I had to leave her, miss! You understand, miss?”
“Elves?”
“You got to hold on to something iron, miss! They hate iron!”
She slapped his face, hurting her fingers on the mail.
“You’re gabbling, Shawn!”
“They’re outto mind?” said Magrat. “I don’t see them, do you? Are they behind the door? No! Are they under the bed?
How strange, they’re not ... there’s just me, Shawn Ogg. And if you don’t tell me everything you know right now I’ll make you regret the day I was born.”
Shawn’s Adam’s apple bobbed up and down as he con- there, miss! I heard the drawbridge godown! They’re out there and we’re in here and they don’tkill you, they keep you alive—““Stand to attention, soldier!”It was all she could think of. It seemed to work. Shawn pulled himself together.“Look,” said Magrat, “everyone knows there really aren’t any elves any mo . . . “ Her voice faded. Her eyes narrowed. “Everyone but Magrat Garlick knows different, yes?”Shawn shook. Magrat grabbed his shoulders.“Me mum and Mistress Weatherwax said you wasn’t to know!” Shawn wailed. “They said it was witch business!”“And where are they now, when they’ve got some witch business

Franz Marc Reh im Klostergarten

Franz Marc Reh im KlostergartenFranz Marc Pferd in LandschaftFranz Marc KüheFranz Marc Horse in a Landscape
early morning in Lancre town, and it was more or less deserted. Farmers had got up hours before to curse and swear and throw a bucket turned slowly with his arms spread wide.
“See that tavern?” he said. “Hah! If I had a penny for every time they threw me out of there, I’d have . . . five dol-lars and thirty-eight pence. And over there is the old forge, and there’s Mrs. Persifleur’s, where I had lodgings. See that peak up there? That’s Copperhead, that is. I climbed that one day with old Carbonaceous the troll. Oh, great days, great days. And see that wood down there, on the hill?
That’s where she—“
His voice trailed into a mumble. “Oh, my word. It all comesat the cows and had then gone back to bed.The sound of the horn bounced off the houses.Ridcully leapt out of the coach and took a deep, theatri-cal breath.“Can’t you smell that?” he said. “That’s real fresh moun-tain air, that is.” He thumped his chest.“I’ve just trodden in something rural,” said Ponder.“Where is the castle, sir?”“I think it could be that huge black towering thing loom-ing over the town,” said Casanunda.The Archchancellor stood in the middle of the square and

Vincent van Gogh Wheatfield with a Lark

Vincent van Gogh Wheatfield with a LarkVincent van Gogh Vegetable Gardens in MontmartreVincent van Gogh Vegetable gardens at the Montmartre
Midnight? Nothing special about midnight. Practic’ly anyone can be a witch at midnight,” said Granny Weatherwax. “How about noon?”
“Certainly What are we fighting for?” said Diamanda.
“Fighting? We ain’t fighting. We’re just showing each other what we can do. Friendly like,” said Granny Weatherwax.
She stood up.
“I’d better be “Oh, well. That’s all right then,” said Granny
Weatherwax, disappearing into the night. “Explains it all, that does.”
There used to be such simple directions, back in the days before they invented parallel universes—Up and Down, Right and Left, Backward and Forward, Past and Future . . .
But normal directions don’t work in the multiverse, which has goin’,” she said. “Us old people need our sleep, you know how it is.”“And what does the winner get?” said Diamanda. There was just a trace of uncertainty in her voice now. It was very faint, on the Richter scale of doubt it was probably no more than a plastic teacup five miles away falling off a low shelf onto a carpet, but it was there.65Terry Pratchett“Oh, the winner gets to win,” said Granny Weather-wax. “That’s what it’s all about. Don’t bother to see us out. You didn’t see us in.”The door slammed back.“Simple psychokinesis,” said Diamanda.

Mark Spain After Hours

Mark Spain After Hours
When does it start?
There are very few starts. Oh, some things seem to be beginnings. The curtain goes up, the first pawn moves, the first shot is fired —but that’s not the start. The play, the game, the war is just a little window on a ribbon of events that may not made of any bits of anyone’s bodies.
But when to begin?
Thousands of years ago? When a great hot cascade of stones came
Mark Spain A Moment Of Tranquility
thus:In the beginning, there was nothing, which exploded.Other theories about the ultimate start involve gods cre-
Mark Spain Timeless Beauty
extend back thousands of years. The point is, there’s always something before. It’s always a case of Now Read On.Much human ingenuity has gone into finding the ulti-mate Before.The current state of knowledge can be summarized ating the universe out of the ribs, entrails, and testicles of their father.^ There are quite a lot of these. They are inter-esting, not for what they tell you about cosmology, but for what they say about people. Hey, kids, which part do you think they made your town out of?But this story starts on the Discworld, which travels through space on the back of four giant elephants which stand on the shell of an enormous turtle and is

Edgar Degas The Orchestra of the Opera

Edgar Degas The Orchestra of the OperaEdgar Degas Song of the DogEdgar Degas Beach Scene
There were thousands of people walking across the desert. They paid him no attention. They walked as if completely unaware that they were in the middle of a crowd.
He tried to wave at them, but he was nailed to the spot. He tried to speak, and the words evaporated in his mouth.
And then he woke up.


The first thing .
"Is he here?"
"-here? How do you feel?"
"I-”
His head ached, his back felt as though it was on fire, and there was a dull pain in his knees.
"You were very badly sunburned," said Nhumrod. "And that was a nasty knock on the head you had in the fall."
"What fall?"he saw was the light, slanting through a window. Against the light was a pair of hands, raised in the sign of the holy horns.With some difficulty, his head screaming pain at him, Brutha followed the hands along a pair of arms to where they joined not far under the bowed head of-"Brother Nhumrod?"The master of novices looked up."Brutha?""Yes?""Om be praised!"Brutha craned his neck to look around

Thomas Gainsborough The Watering Place

Thomas Gainsborough The Watering PlaceThomas Gainsborough The Morning WalkThomas Gainsborough The Harvest Wagon
didn't. He brought it back. His wife didn't like the color."
"And you gave him his money back?" Yes."
"What, all of it?"
"Yes."
"Can't do that. Not after he's put wear and tear on the words. Which one was it?"
" `It's a wise crow that knows which way the camel points.' "
"I put a lot of A cheap one, too, by the sound of it.
He looked up at the wall behind the barrel. Further along was an impressive set of marble steps leading up to some bronze doors, and over the doors, made of metal letters set in the stone, was the word LIBRVM.
He'd spent too much time looking. Urn's hand clamped itself on to his shell, and he heard Didactylos's voice say, "Hey . . . there's good eating on one of these things . . .work in on that one.""He said he couldn't understand it.""I don't understand cobbling, but I know a good pair of sandals when I wears 'em."Om blinked his one eye. Then he looked at the shapes of the minds in front of him.The one called Urn was presumably the nephew, and had a fairly normal sort of mind, even if it did seem to have too many circles and angles in it. But Didactylos's mind bubbled and flashed like a potful of electric eels on full boil. Om had never seen anything like it. Brutha's thoughts took eons to slide into place, it was like watching mountains colliding; Didactylos's thoughts chased after one another with a whooshing noise. No wonder he was bald. Hair would have burned off from the inside.Om had found a thinker.

Thomas Gainsborough Mrs Sheridan

Thomas Gainsborough Mrs SheridanSandro Botticelli Venus and MarsJean Beraud La Rue de la PaixHenri Rousseau The Snake Charmer
There was a hell for blasphemers. There was a hell for the disputers of rightful authority. There were a number of hells for liars. There was probably a hell for little boys who wished their grandmothers were dead. There were more than garden. It was bound to happen."
"Have you tried beating him?" said Brother Vorbis.
"I'm sorry to say that beating young Brutha is like trying to flog a mattress," said Nhumrod. "He says `ow!' but I think it's only because he wants to show he's willing. Very willing lad, Brutha. He's the one I told you about."
"He doesn't look very sharp," said Vorbis.enough hells to go around.This was the definition of eternity; it was the space of time devised by the Great God Om to ensure that everyone got the punishment that was due to them.The Omnians had a great many hells.Currently, Brutha was going through all of them.Brother Nhumrod and Brother Vorbis looked down at him, tossing and turning on his bed like a beached whale."It's the sun," said Nhumrod, almost calm now after the initial shock of having the exquisitor come looking for him. "The poor lad works all day in that

Henri Matisse Le bonheur de vivre

Henri Matisse Le bonheur de vivreGeorges Seurat The CircusGeorges Seurat Le Chahut
'Mr and Mrs Harebut, was that what you had in mind?' he said bluntly.
Her eyes widened. 'Well-’ she began.
'Which one did Warm water flooded down the front of Nijel's vest. He lifted himself cautiously, and then nudged Conina.
Together they scrambled through the slush and mud to the top of the slope, climbed through a logjam of smashed timber and boulders, and stared at the scene.
The glaciers were retreating, under a cloud stuffed with lightning. Behind them the landscape was a net­work of lakes and pools.you intend to be?' he said.The leading glacier smashed into the clearing just behind its bow wave, its top lost in a cloud of its own cre­ation.At exactly the same time the trees opposite it bent low as a hot wind blew from the Rim. It was loaded with voices - petulant, bickering voices - and tore into the clouds like a hot iron into water.Conina and Nijel threw themselves down into snow which turned to warm slush under them. Something like a thunderstorm crashed overhead, filled with shout­ing and what they at first thought were screams although, thinking about them later, they seemed more like angry arguments. It went on for a long time, and then began to fade in the direction of the Hub.

Unknown Artist Persian woman pouring wine

Unknown Artist Persian woman pouring wineAlbert Moore ShellsAlbert Moore Midsummer
thick with dust as the flying stones ground together. She thumped the carpet.
'Take off, you blasted mat! Arrgh!'
A piece of cornice clipped her shoulder. She rubbed the bruise irritably, and turned to Rincewind, who was sitting with his knees under his chin and his hat pulled down over his head.
'Why doesn't it work?' she said.
'You're not saying the right words,' he said.
'It doesn't understand the language?'
'Language hasn't got anything to do with it. You've neglected something fundamental.'
'Well?'
'Well The hat rose some more. 'You're quite sure?' said Rince­wind.
'Yes!'
Rincewind cleared his throat.what?' sniffed Rincewind.'Look, this isn't the time to stand on your dignity!''You keep on trying, don't you mind me.''Make it fly!'Rincewind pulled his hat further over his ears.'Please?' said Conina.The hat rose a bit.'Wed all be terribly bucked,' said Nijel.'Hear, hear,' said Creosote.
'Down,' he commanded.
The carpet rose from the ground and hovered expect­antly

Salvador Dali Manhattan Skyline

Salvador Dali Manhattan SkylineMartin Johnson Heade Cattleya Orchid and Three Brazilian HummingbirdsCaravaggio The Raising of Lazarus
patiently behind Rincewind and making no attempt to shake them off. Perhaps it was sickening for something, he thought, all this sand and heat. As for the wind ...
Ankh-Morpork had its famous smell, so full of personality that it could reduce a strong man to tears. But Al Khali had its wind, blowing from the vastness of the deserts and continents nearer the rim. It was a gentle breeze, but it didn't stop and eventually it had the same effect on visitors that a cheesegrater achieves on a tomato. After a while it seemed to have worn away your skin and was rasping directly across the nerves.
To Conina's sensitive nostrils it carried aromatic messages from the heart of the continent, compounded of the chill of deserts, the stink of lions, the compost of jungles and the flatulence of wildebeest.and brightened up a bit.'How many people are there on this continent, do you think?' he said.'I don't know,' said Conina, without turning round. 'Millions, I expect?''If I were wise, I wouldn't be here,' said Rincewind, with feeling.They had been in Al Khali, gateway to the whole mysterious continent of Klatch, for several hours. He was beginning to suffer.A decent city should have a bit of fog about it, he considered, and people should live indoors, not spend all their time out on the streets. There shouldn't be

Berthe Morisot The Harbor at Lorient

Berthe Morisot The Harbor at LorientJean Auguste Dominique Ingres Ingres Venus AnadyomenePeter Paul Rubens Cimon and Pero
what it should all be about. What we need is real wizardry.'
That last remark would have earned the prize for the day's most erroneous statement if Rincewind hadn't then said:, should guarantee him promotion within a few months. Life looked good.
The big clock at the end of the hall trembled on the verge of nine o'clock.
The tattoo with the spoon hadn't had much effect. Spelter picked up a pewter tankard and brought it down hard.'It's a pity there aren't any of them around any more.' Spelter rapped on the table with his spoon.He was an impressive figure, in his ceremonial robe with the purple-and-vermine[6] hood of the Venerable Council of Seers and the yellow sash of a fifth level wizard; he'd been fifth level for three years, waiting for one of the sixty-four sixth level wizards to create a vacancy by dropping dead. He was in an amiable mood, however. Not only had he just finished a good dinner, he also had in his quarters a small phial of a guaranteed untastable poison which, used correctly

Vincent van Gogh Flower Beds in Holland

Vincent van Gogh Flower Beds in HollandClaude Monet Water LiliesClaude Monet Chemin dans les Bles a Pourville
shape and he made a tentative grab at it. His hand passed right through.
The further you run, the closer you get.
The new Death stepped unhurriedly out of the shadows.
You should know that, it added.
Bill Door straightened up.
We will under the chin and knocked him against the wall, where he slid to the ground.
We ?deed? a Crick. We do not listen. The reaper does not listen to the harvest.
Bill Door tried to get up.
The scythe handle struck him again.
We will not make the same mistakes.
Bill Door looked up. The new Death was holding the enjoy this.ENJOY?The new Death advanced. Bill Door backed away.Yes. The lacking of one Death is the same as achieving the end of a billion lesser lives.LESSER LIVES? THIS IS NOT A GAME!The new Death hesitated. What is a game?Bill Door felt the tiny flicker of hope.I COULD SHOW YOU -The end of the scythe handle caught him

Piet Mondrian Composition with Red Yellow

Piet Mondrian Composition with Red YellowPiet Mondrian Composition with Red Yellow and BluePiet Mondrian Composition 2
But . . . correct me if I’m wrong, but . . .’
THE NEW DEATH.
Bill Door picked up the blade.
HE WILL BE TERRIBLE.
The blade twisted in his hands. Blue light flickered along its edge.
stared at Mr Door. I don’t reckon anyone in the whole world owes you any favours.’
YOU MAY BE RIGHT.
‘Mind you, life’s got one or two things to answer for too. Fair’s fair.’
I CAN’T SAY.
Miss FIitworth gave him another long, appraising look.
‘There’s a pretty good grindstone in the corner,’ she said.
I’VE USED IT.
‘And there’s an oilstone in the cupboard.’
I’VE USED THAT, TOO.the light as if fascinated.‘Exactly how terrible?’HOW TERRIBLE CAN YOU IMAGINE? ‘Oh.’EXACTLY AS TERRIBLE AS THAT.The blade tilted this way and that.‘And for the child, too,’ said Miss Flitworth.YES.‘I don’t reckon I owe you any favours,

Francisco de Goya Clothed Maja

Francisco de Goya Clothed MajaEdgar Degas The RehearsalEdgar Degas The Bellelli Family
rights?’ said Windle. In the corner of his vision he saw Lupine put his hand over his eyes. ‘You’re dead right there, ‘ said Lupine, his face absolutely straight. Mr Shoe glared at him.
‘, Vindle?’ said Doreen, with brittle brightness.
‘Hardly any time at all, ‘ said Windle, relieved at the change of tone.’I must say it’s turning out to be different than I imagined.’
‘You get used to it,’ said Arthur Winkings, alias Count Notfaroutoe,
gloomily.’That’s the thing about being undead. It’s as easy as falling off a
cliff. We’re all undead here’
Lupine coughed.Apathy,’ he repeated.’It’s always the same. You do your best for people, and they just ignore you. Doyou know people can say what they like about you and take away your property, just because you’re dead? And they -‘ ‘I thought that most people, when they died, just . . . you know . . . died, ‘ said Windle.‘It’s just laziness,’ said Mr Shoe.’They just don’t want to make the effort.’ Windle had never seen anyone look so dejected. Reg Shoe seemed to shrink several inches.‘How long have you been undead

Henri Matisse Luxe I

Henri Matisse Luxe IHenri Matisse La mouladeHenri Matisse Interior with PhonographHenri Matisse Decorative Figure on an Ornamental BackgroundHenri Matisse Blue Still Life
His heart sank.
Or, rather, it didn’t.
‘Oh, gods,’ muttered Windle, and leaned against the wall. How did it work, now? He prodded a few, likely-looking nerves. Was it systolic . . . diastolic . . . systolic . . . diastolic . . .? And then there were the lungs, too . . . Like a conjurer keeping eighteen plates spinning at the same time - like a man trying to programme a video recorder from said. Except for the Bursar, of course. He didn’t eat much, but lived on his nerves. He was certain he was anorectic, because every time he looked in a mirror he saw a fat man. It was the Archchancellor, standing behind him and shouting at him.
And it was the Bursar’s unfortunate fate to be sitting opposite the doors when Windle Poons smashed them in because it was easier than fiddling with the handles.
He bit through his wooden spoon.an instruction manual translated from Japanese into Dutch by a Korean rice-husker - like, in fact, a man finding out what total self-control really means, Windle Poons lurched onwards.The wizards of Unseen University set great store by big, solid meals. A man couldn’t be expected to get down to some serious wizarding, they held, without soup, fish, game, several huge plates of meat, a pie or two, something big and wobbly with cream on it, little savoury things on toast, fruit, nuts and a brick-thick mint with the coffee. It gave him a lining to his stomach. It was also important that the meals were served at regular times. It was what gave the day shape, they