Diane Romanello paintings
Diego Rivera paintings
Don Li-Leger paintings
curiosity and the faint, unrecognized apprehension that here, at last, I should find that low door in the wall, which others, I knew had found before me, which opened on an enclosed and enchanted garden, which was somewhere, not overlooked by any window, in the heart of that grey city.
Sebastian lived at Christ Church, high in Meadow Buildings. He was alone when I came, peeling a plover’s egg taken from the large nest of moss in the centre of his table. ‘I’ve just counted them,’ he said. ‘There were five each and two over, so I’m having the two. I’m unaccountably hungry today. I put myself unreservedly in the hands of Dolbear and Goodall, and feel so drugged that I’ve begun to believe that the whole of yesterday evening was a dream. Please don’t wake me up.
He was entrancing, with that epicene beauty which in extreme youth sings aloud for love and withers at the first cold wind.
Tuesday, September 30, 2008
Monday, September 29, 2008
George Inness paintings
George Inness paintings
George Frederick Watts paintings
Guercino paintings
it, they got more cheerful. I handled stores with them for the first half hour; then broke off to meet the company second-in-command who came down with the first returning truck. ‘It’s not a bad camp,’ he reported; ‘big private house with two or three lakes. Looks as if we might get some duck if we’re lucky. Village with one pub and a post office. No town within miles. I’ve managed to get a hut between the two of us.’ By four in the morning the work was done. I drove in the last lorry, through tortuous lanes where the overhanging boughs whipped the windscreen; somewhere we left the lane and turned into a drive; somewhere we reached an open space where two drives converged and a ring of storm lanterns marked the heap of stores. Here we unloaded the truck and, at long last, followed the guides to our quarters, under a starless sky, with a fine drizzle of rain beginning now to fall.
George Frederick Watts paintings
Guercino paintings
it, they got more cheerful. I handled stores with them for the first half hour; then broke off to meet the company second-in-command who came down with the first returning truck. ‘It’s not a bad camp,’ he reported; ‘big private house with two or three lakes. Looks as if we might get some duck if we’re lucky. Village with one pub and a post office. No town within miles. I’ve managed to get a hut between the two of us.’ By four in the morning the work was done. I drove in the last lorry, through tortuous lanes where the overhanging boughs whipped the windscreen; somewhere we left the lane and turned into a drive; somewhere we reached an open space where two drives converged and a ring of storm lanterns marked the heap of stores. Here we unloaded the truck and, at long last, followed the guides to our quarters, under a starless sky, with a fine drizzle of rain beginning now to fall.
Saturday, September 27, 2008
James Childs paintings
James Childs paintings
John Singleton Copley paintings
Joaquin Sorolla y Bastida paintings
thud and a wispered warning. Then silence. The two men Baycraw and Fidon crept up stairs and having opened the door Mr. Cantonville’s room switched on the light. The old man turned over binked and started only to find himself looking down the barrel of a “colt” revolver
“Make a sound and your a dead man” wispered Braycow
“Who are you” murmered the terrified man
“You know very well! You havn’t such a bad memory as all that. Come no think can’t remember a certain bank robery in which a certain Cargon figurgered, do you not recall what he said when you found him out eh? something about revenge? well I am he and this—Fidon at this moment broke off as Braycaw raising a knife plunged it down ward there was a strangled and stilness.
“This” continued Fidon “Is our revenge
John Singleton Copley paintings
Joaquin Sorolla y Bastida paintings
thud and a wispered warning. Then silence. The two men Baycraw and Fidon crept up stairs and having opened the door Mr. Cantonville’s room switched on the light. The old man turned over binked and started only to find himself looking down the barrel of a “colt” revolver
“Make a sound and your a dead man” wispered Braycow
“Who are you” murmered the terrified man
“You know very well! You havn’t such a bad memory as all that. Come no think can’t remember a certain bank robery in which a certain Cargon figurgered, do you not recall what he said when you found him out eh? something about revenge? well I am he and this—Fidon at this moment broke off as Braycaw raising a knife plunged it down ward there was a strangled and stilness.
“This” continued Fidon “Is our revenge
Jean-Honore Fragonard paintings
Jean-Honore Fragonard paintings
Jehan Georges Vibert paintings
Jean-Baptiste-Camille Corot paintings
Midnight boomed from the old clock tower and still the two men played on. Ralfe the eldest son of Gerald Cantonville had got in debt to a villainous money lender and in desperation had taken to gambling in a great efort to “raise the wind” all in vain on he played and still Baycraw won. Sudenly the door opened and in came a young boy of nineteen he had just left his public school carrying away nearly every cup at the sports. He was certainly not clever clever for he had never got any higher than the upper fifth “Hullo Ralfe still playing I should turn in” The elder brother looked up sharply “Get off to bed youngster” he growled and then returned to the . Tom Cantonville shrugged his shoulders and went out with despair in his heart.
Baycraw tiptoed down stairs and opened the window a cold draft of air blew in. He wistled softly and a dark form was siluetted for a moment against the bleu without. Then
Jehan Georges Vibert paintings
Jean-Baptiste-Camille Corot paintings
Midnight boomed from the old clock tower and still the two men played on. Ralfe the eldest son of Gerald Cantonville had got in debt to a villainous money lender and in desperation had taken to gambling in a great efort to “raise the wind” all in vain on he played and still Baycraw won. Sudenly the door opened and in came a young boy of nineteen he had just left his public school carrying away nearly every cup at the sports. He was certainly not clever clever for he had never got any higher than the upper fifth “Hullo Ralfe still playing I should turn in” The elder brother looked up sharply “Get off to bed youngster” he growled and then returned to the . Tom Cantonville shrugged his shoulders and went out with despair in his heart.
Baycraw tiptoed down stairs and opened the window a cold draft of air blew in. He wistled softly and a dark form was siluetted for a moment against the bleu without. Then
Friday, September 26, 2008
Vincent van Gogh Irises painting
Vincent van Gogh Irises paintingWassily Kandinsky Farbstudie Quadrate paintingGustav Klimt The Bride painting
People make trouble for them.”
“Who?”
“Partisan people dat hadn’t got no coats and boots. Dey make trouble wid de Commissar so de Commissar move dem on last night.”
Major Gordon had with the Commissar. The Anti-Fascist Theatre Group was organizing a Liberation Concert and had politely asked him to supply words and of English anti-fascist songs, so that all the allies would be suitably represented. Major Gordon had to explain that his country had no anti-fascist songs and no patriotic songs that anyone cared to sing. The Commissar noted this further evidence of Western decadence with grim satisfaction. For once there was no need to elaborate. The Commissar understood. It was just as he had been told years before in Moscow. It had been the same thing in Spain. The Attlee Brigade would never sing.
When the was over Major Gordon said: “I see the Jews have moved.”
Bakic was left outside nowadays, and the intellectual young man acted as
People make trouble for them.”
“Who?”
“Partisan people dat hadn’t got no coats and boots. Dey make trouble wid de Commissar so de Commissar move dem on last night.”
Major Gordon had with the Commissar. The Anti-Fascist Theatre Group was organizing a Liberation Concert and had politely asked him to supply words and of English anti-fascist songs, so that all the allies would be suitably represented. Major Gordon had to explain that his country had no anti-fascist songs and no patriotic songs that anyone cared to sing. The Commissar noted this further evidence of Western decadence with grim satisfaction. For once there was no need to elaborate. The Commissar understood. It was just as he had been told years before in Moscow. It had been the same thing in Spain. The Attlee Brigade would never sing.
When the was over Major Gordon said: “I see the Jews have moved.”
Bakic was left outside nowadays, and the intellectual young man acted as
Thursday, September 25, 2008
Horace Vernet Judah and Tamar painting
Horace Vernet Judah and Tamar paintingJean Auguste Dominique Ingres Princesse Albert de Broglie paintingJean Auguste Dominique Ingres Ingres The Source painting
fortunate. I relied on Dr. Fe for my naturalization. Whom shall I turn to now? My wife thought that perhaps you could do something for us in England to make us British subjects.” haunted face told Miss Bombaum that she had not made herself clear.
“You’ve surely heard of the Underground? It’s”—she quoted from one of her recent articles on the subject—“it’s an alternative map of Europe, like a tracing overlying all the established frontiers and routes of communication. It’s the new world taking shape below the surface of the old. It’s the new ultra-national
“There is nothing I can do.”
“No, I suppose not. Nor in America?”
“Still less there.” guy who invited me hasn’t shown up.”
A ghastly fear, cold in that torrid
fortunate. I relied on Dr. Fe for my naturalization. Whom shall I turn to now? My wife thought that perhaps you could do something for us in England to make us British subjects.” haunted face told Miss Bombaum that she had not made herself clear.
“You’ve surely heard of the Underground? It’s”—she quoted from one of her recent articles on the subject—“it’s an alternative map of Europe, like a tracing overlying all the established frontiers and routes of communication. It’s the new world taking shape below the surface of the old. It’s the new ultra-national
“There is nothing I can do.”
“No, I suppose not. Nor in America?”
“Still less there.” guy who invited me hasn’t shown up.”
A ghastly fear, cold in that torrid
Winslow Homer Gloucester Harbor painting
Winslow Homer Gloucester Harbor paintingEdward Hopper The Long Leg paintingEdward Hopper The Camel's Hump painting
She was a neat, impersonal young woman, part midwife, part governess, part shop-walker, in manner. “Very Important Persons,” she replied without evident embarrassment.
“But is it all right for me to be here?”
“It is essential. You are a V.I.P.”
I wonder, thought Scott-King, how they treat quite ordinary, unimportant people?
There were two fellow-travellers, male and female, similarly distinguished, both bound for Bellacita, capital city of Neutralia; both, it presently transpired, guests of the Bellorius Celebration Committee.
The man was a familiar type to Scott-King; his name Whitemaid, his calling academic, a dim man like himself, much of an age with him.
“Tell me,” said Whitemaid, “tell me frankly”—and he looked furtive as men do when they employ that ambiguous expression—“have you ever heard of the worthy Bellorius?”
“I know his work. I have seldom heard it discussed.”
She was a neat, impersonal young woman, part midwife, part governess, part shop-walker, in manner. “Very Important Persons,” she replied without evident embarrassment.
“But is it all right for me to be here?”
“It is essential. You are a V.I.P.”
I wonder, thought Scott-King, how they treat quite ordinary, unimportant people?
There were two fellow-travellers, male and female, similarly distinguished, both bound for Bellacita, capital city of Neutralia; both, it presently transpired, guests of the Bellorius Celebration Committee.
The man was a familiar type to Scott-King; his name Whitemaid, his calling academic, a dim man like himself, much of an age with him.
“Tell me,” said Whitemaid, “tell me frankly”—and he looked furtive as men do when they employ that ambiguous expression—“have you ever heard of the worthy Bellorius?”
“I know his work. I have seldom heard it discussed.”
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