Thomas Kinkade HOMETOWN EVENING

Thomas Kinkade HOMETOWN EVENINGThomas Kinkade HOME FOR THE HOLIDAYSThomas Kinkade Evening Glow
timber, branches, rubbish – had piled up in a sort of sordid floating island. There was even fungus growing on it.
What he could do with right now was a bottle of Bearhugger's. The world swam into focus when you looked at it through the bottom of a bottle.
Something else , eyebright for eyes . . . there's even a toadstool called Phallus impudicus, and I don't know what that's for but Nobby is a big man for mushroom omelettes. Now . . . either that fungus down there is exactly the medicine for hands, or . . .
Vimes sighed.
'Carrot, can you go and get a boathook, please?'
Carrot followed his gaze.
'Just to the left of that log, Carrot.'
'Oh, no!'swam into focus.Doctrine of signatures, thought Vimes. That's what the herbalists call it. It's like the gods put a 'Use Me' label on plants. If a plant looks like a part of the body, it's good for ailments peculiar to that part. There's teethwort for teeth, spleenwort for . . . spleens

John William Waterhouse Circe offering the Cup to Ulysses

John William Waterhouse Circe offering the Cup to UlyssesJohn William Waterhouse BoreasJohn William Waterhouse AriadneJohn William Waterhouse A Mermaid
course it wasn't like that now. Sergeant Colon had been happily married for years, perhaps because he and his wife arranged their working lives so that they only met occasionally, normally on the doorstep. But she left him decent meals in the oven, and there was clearly something there; they'd got grandchildren, even, so obviously there had been times some old man dying in the groove of his life and buried out of pity by a bunch of youngsters who never knew you as anything other than some old fart who always seemed to be around the place and got sent out to bring back the coffee and hot figgins and was laughed at behind his back?
He'd wanted to avoid that. And now Fate was handing him a fairy tale.
Of course he'd known she was rich. But he hadn't expected the summons to Mr Morecombe's office.when they'd been unable to avoid each other. Young Carrot had to fight young women off with a stick. And Corporal Nobbs . . . well, he probably made his own arrangements. He was said to have the body of a twenty-five year old, although no-one knew where he kept it.The point was that everyone else had someone, even if in Nobby's case it was probably against their will.So, Captain Vimes, what is it really? Do you care for her? Don't worry too much about love, that's a dicey word for the over-forties. Or are you just afraid of becoming

Pierre Auguste Renoir Dance in the Country

Pierre Auguste Renoir Dance in the CountryPierre Auguste Renoir Dance in the CityJoaquin Sorolla y Bastida Beaching the Boat (study)
There was a faint creak as the door opened.
He looked up.
“Glad to see you’re up and about already,” said Granny
Weatherwax. “I’ve come to help you dress.”
“I’ve looked in the garderobe,” said Verence. “The . . .
elves, was it? ... they ransacked the place. There’s nothing
I can wear.”
Granny looked around the room. Then she went to a low
chest and “I ain’t leaving,” said Granny, quietly, “I’m just shutting the door.”
And then there was the incident with the crown.
Ceremonies and Protocols of The Kingdom of Lancre
was eventually found after a hurried search of Vereopened it. There was a faint tinkling of bells, anda flash of red and yellow.“I thought you never threw them away,” she said. “And you ain’t put on any weight, so they’ll still fit. On with the motley. Magrat’ll appreciate it.”“Oh, no,” said Verence. “I’m very firm about this. I’m king now. It’d be demeaning for Magrat to marry a Fool. I’ve got a position to maintain, for the sake of the kingdom. Besides, there is such a thing as pride.”Granny stared at him for so long that he shifted uncomfortably.“Well, there is,” he said.Granny nodded, and walked toward the doorway.“Why’re you leaving?” said Verence nervously.

Pop art why are you still here

Pop art why are you still herePop art trane in redPop art stevie on brown
we probably don’t need to worry about it. Are there anymore around?”
“I... don’t think so. Uh. Miss Queen?”
“Yes, Shawn?”
“Could you put the axe down, please? I’d feel a lot bet-ter if you put the axe down. The axe. Miss Queen. You keep swinging it about. It could go off at any second.”
“What axe?”
“The one you’re holding.”
“Oh, this axe.” Magrat appeared to notice it for the first time. “That arm looks bad. Let’s get down to the kitchen and I’ll splint it. Those fingers don’t look good, either. Did they kill Diamanda?”
“I don’t know. And I don’t know why. I mean, she was helping them.”
228“No, miss.”
“They couldn’t have painted her from life, of course. ILORQ6 ftttD ift0/£6“Yes. Wait a moment.” Magrat disappeared one moretime into the armory, and came back carrying a sack. “Comeon. Greebo!”Greebo gave her a sly look, and stopped washing himself.“D’you know a funny thing about Lancre?” said Magrat, as they sidled down the stairs.“What’s that, miss?”“We never throw anything away. And you know anotherthing?”
mean, people didn’t paint portraits in those days. But the
armor . .. hah! All they had to do was look. And you know

Jean Beraud Le Bal Mabile

Jean Beraud Le Bal MabileJean Beraud Jeune femme traversant le boulevardJean Beraud A Game of Billiards
probably pouring the water in,” he said.
“You’ve got a minute or two,” said his wife. “Go on, or we’ll be drinking yogurt for weeks.”
Mr. Skindle took down a halter from behind the door, and crept out to where his goat was tethered near the hedge. It too had learned to, one after the other. Shrapnel whizzed past Mr. Skindle’s ear.
“—wizzaaardsah staaafff has a knobontheend, knobon-
theend—“
He threw the goat through the doorway and leapt after it. His wife was waiting, and slammed the recognize the bathtime ritual, and was rigid with apprehension.There was no point in trying to drag it. Eventually he picked it up bodily.There was a distant but insistent sloshing noise, and the144LQRQ6 ft/VQ LftQ/£Sbonging sound of a floating pumice stone bouncing on the side of a tin bath.Mr. Skindle started to run.Then there was the distant tinkle of a banjo being tuned.The world held its breath.Then it came, like a tornado sweeping across a prairie.“AAaaaaeeeeeee—“Three flowerpots outside the door cracked

Leroy Neiman World Class Skier

Leroy Neiman World Class SkierJuan Gris Violin and EngravingJuan Gris The Violin
conteft about power, you stupid girls, it is a contest about witchcraft, do you not even begin to know what being a witch IS?
“Is a witch someone who would look round when she heard a child scream?
“And the townspeople said, Yess!”
“That was wonderful,” said Mrs. Quamey, the storekeeper’s wife. “The whole town cheered. A true miffic quality.”
They were in the tavern’s back room. Granny Weatherwax was lying on a bench with a damp towel over her face.
“Yes, it was, wasn’t it?” said Magrat.
80was some kind of rare talent.
“Gytha?” said Granny, from under the towel.
“Yes?”
“You knows I don’t normally tou“That girl was left without a leg to stand -on, everyone says.”“Yes,” said Magrat.“Strutted off with her nose in a sling, as they say.”“Yes,” said Magrat.“Is the little boy all right?”They all looked at Pewsey, who was sitting in a suspi-cious puddle on the floor in the comer with a bag of sweets and a sticky ring around his mouth.“Right as rain,” said Nanny Ogg. “Nothing worse’n a bit of sunburn. He screams his head off at the least little thing, bless him,” she said proudly, as if this ch strong licker, but I’ve heard you mention the use of brandy for medicinal purposes.”
“Coming right up.”

Sung Kim Overlook Cafe I

Sung Kim Overlook Cafe I
looked inside himself.And went on looking.He sagged to his knees.I CAN SEE THAT YOU ARE BUSY, said Death."Don't leave me! It's so empty!"Death looked around at the endless desert. He snapped his fingers and a large white horse trotted up.I SEE A HUNDRED THOUSAND PEOPLE, he said, swinging himself into the saddle."Where? Where?"HERE. WITH YOU.
Sung Kim Escape
voice . . . . Surely, there had been a voice? But all he could remember was the sound of his own thoughts, bouncing off the inside of his own head.
Now he had to cross the desert. What could there be to fear? The desert was what you believed.
Vorbis "I can't see them!"
Death gathered up the reins.
NEVERTHELESS, he said. His horse trotted forward a few steps.
"I don't understand!" screamed Vorbis.
Death paused. YOU HAVE PERHAPS HEARD THE PHRASE

Thomas Kinkade Evening Glow

Thomas Kinkade Evening GlowCamille Pissarro Still LifeCamille Pissarro Morning Sunlight on the Snow
mainly consisted of tentacles.
"Who were the people who lived here?" said Brutha.
"I don't know."
"What god did they worship?"
"I don't know."
"The statues are made of granite, but there's no granite near here."
"They were very devout, then. They dragged it all the way."
"And the altar block is covered in grooves."
"Ah. Extremely devout. That would be to let the blood run off."
"You really think they did human sacrifice?"
"I don't know! I want to get out of here!"
"Why? There's water and"Who cares? I didn't ask you about him."
"Well . . . sometimes . . . when I'm on catacomb duty . . . it's the kind of place where you it's cool-”"Because . . . a god lived here. A powerful god. Thousands worshiped it. I can feel it. You know? It comes out of the walls. A Great God. Mighty were his dominions and magnificent was his word. Armies went forth in his name and conquered and slew. That kind of thing. And now no one, not you, not me, no one, even knows who the god was or his name or what he looked like. Lions drink in the holy places and those little squidgy things with eight legs, there's one by your foot, what d'you call 'em, the ones with the antennae, crawl beneath the altar. Now do you understand?""No," said Brutha."Don't you fear death? You're a human!"Brutha considered this. A few feet away. Vorbis stared mutely at the patch of sky."He's awake. He's just not speaking." can't help . . . I mean, all the skulls and things . . . and the Book says . . ."
"There you are," said Om, a note of bitter triumph in his voice. "You don't

Vincent van Gogh The Bedroom at Arles

Vincent van Gogh The Bedroom at ArlesVincent van Gogh Couple in the Park,ArlesLeonardo da Vinci Portrait of Ginevra de Benci
people watched them in silence. So did the statues of the gods. The Ephebians had gods in the same way that other cities had rats.
Brutha got a look at Vorbis's face. The exquisitor was staring straight ahead of himself. Brutha wondered what the man was seeing.
It was all used to being on their-they spend so much time looking at the-look, belief is where you find it. Specialization. That's safe, see. Low risk, guaranteed returns. There's even a God of Lettuce somewhere. I mean, it's not as though any one else is likely so new!And devilish, of course. Although the gods in the statues didn't look much like demons-but he could hear the voice of Nhumrod pointing out that this very fact made them even more demonic. Sin crept up on you like a wolf in a sheep's skin.One of the goddesses had been having some very serious trouble with her dress, Brutha noticed; if Brother Nhumrod had been present, he would have had to hurry off for some very serious lying down."Petulia, Goddess of Negotiable Affection," said Om. "Worshiped by the ladies of the night and every other time as well, if you catch my meaning."Brutha's mouth dropped open."They've got a goddess for painted jezebels?""Why not? Very religious people I understand. They're

William Bouguereau Nymphs and Satyr.

William Bouguereau Nymphs and Satyr.
Diego Rivera Detroit IndustryLeroy Neiman Rocky vs Apollo
Great God has seen fit to make the poor man shortsighted and he probably won't notice I'm not there, only if he does I shall have to say what I've done because telling lies to a Brother is a sin and the Great God will send me to hell of those."
The tortoise gave him a one-eyed stare for a while. Then it said: "Tall fellow? Full beard? Eyes wobbling all over the place?"
"What?" said Brutha.
"I think I recall him," said the tortoise. "Eyes wobbled when he talkedfor a million years.""In this one case I could be merciful," said the tortoise. "No more than a thousand years at the outside.""My grandmother told me I shall go to hell when I die anyway," said Brutha, ignoring this. "Being alive is sinful. It stands to reason, because you have to sin every day when you're alive."He looked down at the tortoise."I know you're not the Great God Om"-holy horns-"because if I was to touch the Great God Om"-holy horns-"my hands would burn away. The Great God would never become a tortoise, like Brother Nhumrod said. But it says in the Book of the Prophet Cena that when he was wandering in the desert the spirits of the ground and the air spoke unto him, so I wondered if you were one

Thomas Kinkade NASCAR THUNDER

Thomas Kinkade NASCAR THUNDERThomas Kinkade LondonThomas Kinkade Light of Freedom
one ever had the courage to ask him what he did there.
[14] Or up, or obliquely. The layout of the Library of Unseen University was a topographical nightmare, the sheer presence only licensed to carry fourteen people.
[17] In a truly magical universe everything has its opposite. For example, there's anti-light. That's not the same as darkness, because darkness is merely the absence of light. Anti-light is what you get if you pass through darkness and out the other side. On the same basis, a state of knurdness isn't like sobriety. By comparison, sobriety is like having a bath in cotton wool. Knurdness strips away all illlusion, all the comforting pink fog in which people normally spend their lives, and lets them see and think clearly for the first time ever. Then, after they've screamed a bitof so much stored magic twisting dimensions and gravity into the kind of spaghetti that would make M. C. Escher go for a good lie down, or possibly sideways.[15] The Hashishim, who derived their name from the vast quan­tities of hashish they consumed, were unique among vicious killers in being both deadly and, at the same time, inclined to giggle, groove to interesting patterns of light and shade on their terrible knife blades and, in extreme cases, fall over.[16] Although, possibly, quicker. And

Jean Beraud Le Boulevard St. Denis Paris

Jean Beraud Le Boulevard St. Denis ParisJean Beraud Le Bal MabileJean Beraud Jeune femme traversant le boulevard
, except for the total extinction of every other lifeform, but what it needed more than anything else now was its owner.

It was easy to . 'A treasury with no treasure in it.'
The seriph stood and beamed. 'Not to worry', he said.
'But all your money has been stolen!' said Conina.
'The servants, I expect,' said Creosote. 'Very disloyal of them.'
Rincewind gave him an odd look. 'Doesn't it worry you?'see that the room was a treasury by its incredible emptiness. Doors hung off hooks. Barred alcoves had been smashed in. Lots of smashed chests lay around, and this gave Rincewind a pang of guilt and he wondered, for about two seconds, where the Luggage had got to.There was a respectful silence, as there always is when large sums of money have just passed away. Nijel wandered off and prodded some of the chests in a forlorn search for secret drawers, as per the instructions in Chapter Eleven.Conina reached down and picked up a small copper coin.'How horrible,' said Rincewind eventually

Andy Warhol Basket of Flowers

Andy Warhol Basket of FlowersNicolas De Stael Sky in HonfleurNicolas De Stael Noon Landscape
stalls hit the row behind them and scraped relentlessly onwards, piling up until a wide avenue of clean, empty stones stretched the whole width of the square.
Ardrothy Yes, that was it ...
Ardrothy had a touch of magic in his genetic makeup, and as he watched the wizards sweep across the square it told him that the very best thing he could do for his health would be to pack his knives, and mincers in his little pack and have it away out of the city at any time in the next ten minutes.
The last wizard in the group lagged behind his col­leagues and looked around the square with disdain.Longstaff, Purveyor of Pies Full of Personal­ity, peered over the top of the wreckage of his stall in time to see the wizards emerge.He knew wizards, or up until now he'd always thought he did. They were vague old boys, harmless enough in their way, dressed like ancient sofas, always ready customers for any of his merchandise that hap­pened to be marked down on account of age and rather more personality than a prudent housewife would be prepared to put up with.But these wizards were something new to Ardrothy. They walked out into Sator Square as if they owned it. Little blue sparks flashed around their feet. They seemed a little taller, somehow.Or perhaps it was just the way they carried them­selves.

Caravaggio Sick Bacchus

Caravaggio Sick BacchusUnknown Artist Wave RiderJohannes Vermeer Young Woman with a Water Jug
banished an Ipslore thirty years ago,' said Spelter. 'According to the records, he'd got married. I can see that if he had sons, um, they'd be wizards, but I don't understand how-’
'That wasn't 'Sourcerers could do everything,' he went on. 'They were nearly as powerful as the gods. Um. There was no end of trouble. The gods simply wouldn't allow that sort of thing any more, depend upon it.'
'Well, there was trouble because the sourcerers fought among themselves,' said Carding, 'But one sourcerer wouldn't be any trouble. One sourcerer correctly advised, that is. By older and wiser minds.'
'But he wants the Archchancellor's hat!'wizardry. That was sourcery,' said Carding, leaning back in his chair.Spelter stared at him across the bubbling varnish.'Sourcery?''The eighth son of a wizard would be a sourcerer.''I didn't know that!''It is not widely advertised.''Yes, but - sourcerers were a long time ago, I mean, the magic was a lot stronger then, um, men were different ... it didn't have anything to do with, well, breeding.' Spelter was thinking, eight sons, that means he did it eight times. At least. Gosh.

Leroy Neiman Michael Jordan

Leroy Neiman Michael JordanGeorge Frederick Watts The Recording AngelGeorge Frederick Watts She shall be called woman
second now, Archchancellor.’
‘So . . . whatever’s going to happen . . . is going to happen to us?’ ‘Yes, Archchancellor.’ idcully patted Windle on the head.
‘Sorry about this,’ he said.
Windle Schleppel unfolded himself to his full height.
‘Hallo, Mr Poons. Hallo, Reg,’ he said.
They stared at the hairy shape that nearly filled the passageway.
‘Er, Schleppel . . . er . . . could you clear the way for us?’ Windle quavered.turned awkwardly to look down the passageway. There was something behind the Queen. It looked like a perfectly ordinary bedroom door, advancing in a series of small steps, as though someone was carefully pushing it along in front of them.‘What is it?’ said Reg.Windle raised himself as far as he could.‘Schleppel!’‘Oh, come on,’ said Reg.‘It’s Schleppel!’ shouted Windle. ‘Schleppel! It’s us! Can you help us out?’The door paused. Then it was flung aside.

John Constable Wivenhoe Park Essex

John Constable Wivenhoe Park EssexJohn Constable Weymouth BayJohn William Waterhouse Destiny 1900
was halfway up his second row, but accelerating.
Miss Flitworth opened the door a fraction.
‘Yes?’ she said, suspiciously.
‘It’s him,’ said’m Spigot. ‘You’re getting your money’s worth out of him all right, Miss Flitworth.’ ‘It’ll be the first time, then, in these parts,’ she said sourly.

‘Up and down the field like a madman, trying to better ?that? contraption of Ned Simnel’s. Took four of us to do the ~inding. He nearly beat it, too.’ ‘Put him down on the sofa.’Bill Door, Miss FIitworth. We’ve brought him home.’She opened the door wider.‘What happened to him?’The two men shuffled in awkwardly, trying to support a figure a foot taller than they were. It raised its head and squinted muzzily at Miss Flitworth. ??? Duke Bottomley.‘He’s a devil for working,’ said Willi~ ???‘Don’t know what come over

John Constable Hadleigh Castle

John Constable Hadleigh CastleJohn Constable Flatford MillJohn William Waterhouse The Magic Circle
someone who can’t bring themselves to believe the evidence of their own eyes.’Perhaps he’s just been very ‘I should think he’s just about been as ill as he can be ever.’
Bill Door walked They were followed by a . . . shape.
It was about six inches high. It wore a black robe. It held a small scythe in one skeletal paw. A bone-white nose with brittle grey whiskers protruded from the shadowy hood.
Bill Door reached out and picked it up. It didn’t resist, but stood on the palm back home thoughtfully.There was a light on in the farmhouse kitchen, but he went straight to the barn, climbed the ladder to the hay-loft, and lay down. He could put off dreaming, but he couldn’t escape remembering.He stared at the darkness.After a while he was aware of the pattering of feet. He turned. A stream of pale rat-shaped ghosts skipped along the roof beam above his head, fading as they ran so that soon there was nothing but the sound of the scampering.

Gustav Klimt Schloss Kammer Am Attersee II

Gustav Klimt Schloss Kammer Am Attersee IIGustav Klimt Portrait of Adele Bloch (gold foil)Gustav Klimt Judith II (gold foil)
And at that moment the cobblestones came up to meet him.
This is usually a poetic way of saying that someone fell flat on their face. In this case, the cobblestones really came up to meet him. They fountained up, circled silently in the air above the alley for a moment, and then dropped like stones.
Windle stared at them. So did Lupine.
‘That’s again. It showed no inclination to move.
‘I’d better be getting along,’ said Lupine.
‘What’s it like, being a wereman?’ said Windle.
Lupine shrugged. ‘Lonely,’ he said.
‘Hmm?’
‘You don’t fit in, you see. When I’m a wolf I remember what it’s like to be a man, and vice versa. Like . . . I mean . . . sometimes . . . sometimes, right, when I’m wolf-shaped, I run up into the hills . . . in the wintersomething you don’t often see,’ said the wereman, after a while.’I don’t think I’ve ever seen stones flying before.’ ‘Or dropping like stones,’ said Windle. He nudged one with the toe of his boot. It seemed perfectly happy with the role gravity had chosen for it.‘You’re a wizard -‘‘Were a wizard,’ said Windle.‘You were a wizard. What caused all that?’‘I think it is probably an inexplicable phenomenon,’ said Windle. ‘There’s a lot of them about, for some reason. I wish I knew why.’ He prodded a stone

Mary Cassatt Children on the Shore

Mary Cassatt Children on the ShoreFederico Andreotti Discretion, The Better Part Of ValourDirck Bouts ResurrectionDirck Bouts The Gathering of the MannaDirck Bouts The Meeting of Abraham and Melchizedek
-ha,’ said the Archchancellor again, but with slightly less conviction.
‘It’s a symbolic double-handled axe from the cult of Blind Io,’ said Windle.
The Archchancellor gave him a blank look.
‘Er, yes,’ he said, ‘that’s right.’ He threw it over his shoulder, almost removing the Dean’s left ear, and fished in the sack again. ‘Ah-ha!’
‘That’s acure after all.
‘I’m really sorry to be such a nuisance, ‘ said Windle.
The Dean suddenly brightened up.
‘Daylight!’ he said excitedly.’That’ll do the trick!’
‘Get the curtain!’ rather fine example of the Mystic Tooth of Offler the Crocodile God, ‘ said Windle.‘Ah-ha!’‘And that’s a . . . let me see now . . . yes, that’s the matched set of sacred Flying Ducks of Ordpor the Tasteless. I say, eh ?it? is fun!’ ‘Ah-ha.’‘That’s . . . don’t tell me, don’t tell me . . . that’s the holy linglongrrf the notorious Sootee cult, isn’t it?’‘Ah-ha?’ ‘I think that one’s the three-headed fish of the Howanda three-headed fish religion,’ said Windle.‘This is ridiculous,’ said the Archchancellor. dropping the fish. The wizards sagged. Religious objects weren’t such a surefire undead