Jack Vettriano 301.129

Jack Vettriano 301.129
you boys are in a bit of trouble,' said Dibbler. 'Broken furniture and whatnot.''We're not even going to get paid,' said Cliff, glaring at Glod.'Well now,' said Dibbler, 'it could just be that I could help you there. I'm a businessman. I do business. I can see you boys are musicians. You play music. You don't want to worry your heads about money stuff, right? Gets in the way of the creative processes, am I right? How about if you leave that to me?''Huh,' said Glod, still smarting from
Jack Vettriano Zara Philips by RankinJack Vettriano You Can't Come To This Party!
'Gook!'
'I ain't talking to you! I'm talking to you other guys.'
'No,' said Buddy, 'I don't think we have.'
The grin appeared to widen.
'I hear the insult to his financial acumen. 'And what can you do?'
'Well,' said Dibbler, ' I can get you paid for tonight, for a start.'
'What about the furniture?' said Buddy.
'Oh, stuff gets busted here every night,' said Dibbler expansively. 'Hibiscus was just having you on. I'll square it with him. Confidentially, you want to watch out for people like him.'
He leaned forward. If his grin had been any wider the top of his head would have fallen off.
'This city, boys,' he said, 'is a jungle.'
'If he can get us paid, I trust him,' said Glod.
'As simple as dat?' said Cliff.

Jack Vettriano Elegy for the Dead Admiral

walked through the hall of lifetimers. Even those on the highest shelves rattled gently as she passed.
She'd save lives. The good could be spared, and the bad could die young. It would all balance up, too. She'd show him. As for responsibility, well . . . humans always made changes. That was what being human was all about.
Susan opened another door and stepped into the library.Around her the busyness of the library went on. Millions of books quietly carried on writing themselves, causing a rustle like that of cockroaches.
She remembered sitting on a knee or, rather, sitting on a cushion on a knee, because the knee itself had been out of the question. Watching a bony finger follow the letters as they formed on the page. She'd learned to read her own life–
It was a room even bigger than the hall of lifetimers. Bookcases rose like cliffs; a haze obscured the ceiling.
But of course it'd be childish, she told herself, to think that she could go in waving the scythe like a magic wand and turn the world into a better place overnight. It might take some time. So she should start in a small way and work up.
She held out a hand.
'I'm not going to do the voice,' she said. 'That's just unnecessary drama and really a bit stupid. I just want the book of Imp y Celyn, thank you very much.'

Gustav Klimt dancer

br />saw it too,' said Cliff. 'When we was walking here, you were bouncing along.' He looked under the table. 'And you is tapping your feet.'
'And you keep snapping your fingers,' said Glod.
'I can't stop . 'No‑one's got that many teeth.'
'I didn't mean buy it,' said Glod. 'Just . . . borrow it for a while.'
'Days stealing,' said Cliff.
'No it's not,' said the dwarf. 'We'll let them have it back when we've finished with it.'
'Oh. Dat's all right den.'
Buddy wasn't a drummer or a troll and he could see the technical flaw in Glod's thinking about the music,' said Buddy. 'You're right. We need . . .' he drummed his fingers along the table, '. . . a sound like . . . pang pang pang PANG Pang . . .'You mean a keyboard?' said Glod.'Do I?''They've got one of those new pianofortes just over the river in the Opera House,' said Glod.'Yah, but dat sort of thing ain't for our kind of music,' said Cliff. 'Dat sort of thing is for big fat guys in powdered wigs.''I reckon,' said Glod, giving Buddy another lopsided stare, 'if we put it anywhere near Im‑ near Buddy, it'll be for our kind of music soon enough. So go and get it.''I heard where it cost four hundred dollars,' said Cliff

Paul Klee Zitronen

FORGET ANYTHING. EVERYTHING.
'It . . . er . . . it happens automatically.' The prospective acolytes had turned the bend on the mountain path. The holy man hastily picked up his begging bowl.
'Let's say this bowl 'But alcohol debilitates the body and is a poison to the soul.'
SOUNDS GOOD TO ME.
'Master?'
The holy man looked around irritably. The acolytes had arrived.
'Just a minute, I'm talking to–’is your memory,' he said, waving it vaguely. 'It can only hold so much, see? New things come in, so old things must overflow–’NO. I REMEMBER EVERYTHING. EVERYTHING. DOORKNOBS. THE PLAY OF SUNLIGHT ON HAIR. THE SOUND OF LAUGHTER. FOOTSTEPS. EVERY LITTLE DETAIL. AS IF IT HAPPENED ONLY YESTERDAY. AS IF IT HAPPENED ONLY TOMMOROW. EVERYTHING. DO YOU UNDERSTAND?The holy man scratched his gleaming bald head.'Traditionally,' he said, 'the ways of forgetting include joining the Klatchian Foreign Legion, drinking the waters of some magical river, no‑one knows where it is, and imbibing vast amounts of alcohol.'AH, YES.

Lord Frederick Leighton The Fisherman and the Syren

thought some more, and sighed.
'Oh, I remember. It's the one in the throat,' he said.

Vimes Dink. 'Corporal Carrot says there's some good buried somewhere in everyone,' said Detritus.
And what's your job, Detritus.'
Dink. 'Engineer in charge of deep mining operations, sah!'
Vimes scratched his head.
'That was very nearly a joke, wasn't it?' he said.
'It this new helmet my mate Cuddy made me, sir. Hah! People can't say, there go stupid troll. They have to say, who that goodlooking military troll there, acting-constable already, great future behind him, he got Destiny written all over him like writing.'stepped out into the sunlight, except that there wasn't much of it. Clouds were blowing in from the Hub. And—'Detritus?'Dink. 'Captain Vimes, sah!''Who're all these people?''Watchmen, sir.'Vimes stared in puzzlement at the half-dozen assorted guards.'Who're you?''Lance-Constable Hrolf Pyjama, sir.'And y— Coalface?''I never done nuffin.''I never done nuffin, sah!' yelled Detritus.'Coalface? In the Watch?'

Camille Pissarro Jardin Mirbeau aux Damps

'Good. Now go and get Coalface.'
'Er . . . he's in a bit of a bad temper, Corporal Carrot.'
'On account of being chained togo and bring out the prisoner.'
'I don't see why—' a dwarf began.
'You shut up, you horrible man,' said Detritus, drunk with power.
You could have heard a guillotine drop.
In the crowd, a number of different-sized knobbly hands gripped a variety of concealed weapons.
Everyone looked at Carrot. the floor,' volunteered another guard.'Well, now,' said Carrot. 'The thing is, he's going to be unchained right now.' The men shuffled their feet nervously, possibly remembering an old proverb that fitted the 'Quirm is very nice at this time of year,' said Sergeant Colon helpfully. 'They've got a floral clock.''Er . . . since you mention it . . . I've got some sick leave coming up,' one of them said.'I should think that's very probable, if you hang around,' said Carrot.They sidled off as fast as decency allowed. The crowd hardly paid them any attention. There was still a lot more mileage in watching Carrot.'Right,' said Carrot. 'Detritus, you take some men and

Thomas Kinkade End of a Perfect Day III

Thomas Kinkade End of a Perfect Day IIIThomas Kinkade End Of A Perfect Day IIThomas Kinkade Conquering the StormsThomas Kinkade bloomsbury cafe
'Militia . . .' mused Sergeant Colon.
'Hang on, you can't do that!' said Muldoon. 'That's nonsense!'
'It's the law. Never been repealed,' said Carrot.
'We've never every window.
'My word,' said Carrot.
'And there's dwarfs breaking windows and everything!' said the grocer. 'A dog's not safe!'
'You can't trust 'em,' said Cuddy.had a militia! Never needed one!''Until now, I think.''Now look here,' said Muldoon, 'you come back with me to the Palace. You're men of the Watch—''And we're going to defend the city,' said Carrot. People were streaming past the Watch House. Carrot stopped a couple by the simple expedient of sticking out his hand.'Mr Poppley, isn't it?' he said. 'How's the grocery business? Hello, Mrs Poppley.''Ain't you heard?' said the flustered man. 'The trolls have set fire to the Palace!'He followed Carrot's gaze up Broad Way, to where the Palace stood squat and dark in the early evening light. Ungovernable flames failed to billow from

Mark Spain Timeless Beauty

Mark Spain Timeless BeautyMark Spain The Pink DressMark Spain SevillaMark Spain ReflectionMark Spain Pure Elegance
goodness. I thought you said you'd done away with it.'
'I gave it to the Assassins to destroy. After all, they pride themselves on the artistic quality of their work. They should be horrified 'The Assassins are. But they won't find it. They don't think the right way.' The Patrician picked up a pile of sketches of the human skeleton. They were extremely good.
'Oh, dear.'
'So I am relying on the Watch.'
'This would be the Captain Vimes you hat the idea of anyone having that sort of power. But the damn fools did not destroy it. They thought they could lock it away. And now they've lost it.''They didn't destroy it?''Apparently not, the fools.'And nor did you. I wonder why?''1 . . . do you know, I don't know?''I should never have made it. It was merely an application of principles. Ballistics, you know. Simple aerodynamics. Chemical power. Some rather good alloying, although I say it myself. And I'm rather proud of the rifling idea. I had to make a quite complicated tool for that, you know. Milk? Sugar?''No, thank you.''People are searching for it, I trust?'

Claude Monet The Bridge at Argenteuil

Claude Monet The Bridge at ArgenteuilClaude Monet Spring 1880Claude Monet Snow at Argenteuil
I mean, I've nothing against Mrs Cake, a lovely woman, one of the best. . . but. . . well. . . you must have noticed . . .'
'Noticed what?'
'Well. . . she's not very . . . you know . . . choosy.'
'Sorry. I'm still not with you.'
'You must lady, if you know what I mean.'
'Not really. Mr Shoe even tried to help me upstairs with my stuff. Mind you, I had to help him upstairs with his arms afterwards. Bits fall off him all the time, poor soul.'
'But they're not really . . . our kind of people,' said Carrot wretchedly. 'Don't have seen some of the other guests? I mean, doesn't Reg Shoe still have lodgings there?''Oh, said Angua, 'you mean the zombie.''And there's a banshee in the attic.''Mr Ixolite. Yes.''And there's old Mrs Drull.''The ghoul. But she's retired. She does children's party catering now.''I mean, doesn't it strike you the place is a bit odd?''But the rates are reasonable and the beds are clean.''I shouldn't think anyone ever sleeps in them.''All right! I had to take what I could get !''Sorry. I know how it is. I was like that myself when I first arrived here. But my advice is to move out as soon as it's polite and find somewhere . . . well . . . more suitable for a young

Henri Matisse Le bonheur de vivre

Henri Matisse Le bonheur de vivreGeorges Seurat The CircusGeorges Seurat Le ChahutWilliam Blake Nebuchadnezzar
-Constable Detritus – don't salute! - and Lance-Constable Cuddy, also Lance-Constable Angua. We hope you will have a long and – what's that you've got there, Cuddy?'
'What?' said Cuddy, innocently.
'I can't help noticing that you still has got there what appears to be a double-headed throwing axe, lance-constable, despite what I vouchsafed to you earlier re Guard rules.'
'Cultural weapon, —'
'Sergeant?'
'Now wh – Oh, it's you, Corporal Carrot. Yes?'
Aren't you forgetting something, sergeant?' said Carrot.
'I dunno,' said Colon cautiously. Am I?'sergeant?' said Cuddy hopefully.'You can leave it in your locker. Guards carry one sword, short, and one truncheon.'With the exception of Detritus, he added mentally. Firstly, because even the longest sword nestled in the troll's huge hand like a toothpick, and secondly, because until they'd got this saluting business sorted out he wasn't about to see a member of the Watch nail his own hand to his own ear. He'd have a truncheon, and like it. Even then, he'd probably beat himself to death.Trolls and dwarfs! Dwarfs and trolls! He didn't deserve it, not at his time of life. And that wasn't the worst of it.He coughed again. When he read from his clipboard, it was in the sing-song voice of someone who learned his public speaking at school.'Right,' he said again, a little uncertainly. 'So. Says here

Cao Yong MY BALCONY

Cao Yong MY BALCONYCao Yong LILY PONDCao Yong KOI POND
stirred the debris with her foot. Glass tinkled.
“That vase was a , feeling his way on to the broomstick with his eyes shut. “I was look-ing forward to a convivial evening, just me and you.”
“It is just me and you.”
“Yes, but I hadn’t assumed there’d be a broomstick involved.”
The stick left the ground slowly Casanunda clung miser-ably to the bristles.present from Esme,” she said, to the unfeeling world in general. “Never liked it much.”“Why’d they do it?” said Casanunda, looking around.“Oh, they’d smash the world if they thought it’d make a pretty noise,” said Nanny She stepped outside again and felt around under the eaves of the low thatched roof, and pulled out her broomstick with a small grunt of triumph.“I always shove it up there,” she said, “otherwise the kids nick it and go joy-riding. You ride behind me, and I say this against my better judgement.”Casanunda shuddered. Dwarfs are generally scared of heights, since they don’t often have the opportunity to get used to them.Nanny scratched her chin, making a sandpapery sound.“And we’ll need a crowbar,” she said. “There’ll be one in Jason’s forge. Hop on, my lad.”“I really wasn’t expecting this,” said Casanunda

Francois Boucher Adoration of the Shepherds

Francois Boucher Adoration of the ShepherdsGustave Courbet The Origin of the WorldThomas Kinkade Symbols of Freedom
not huge, by wig standards. There have, in the course of decadent
history, been many large wigs, often with built-in gewgaws to stop people
having to look at boring hair all the time. There had been ones big enough
to contain pet mice or clockwork ornaments. Mme. Cupidor, mistress of
Mad King Soup II, had one with a bird cage in it, but on special state
occasions wore one containing a perpetual calendar, a floral clock, and a
take-away linguini, Nanny Ogg was hardly more than a teenager.
“La, sir,” she said, giving him a playful tap that made his ears ring, “you do know how to turn a simple country girl’s head and no mistake!”
Casanunda picked himself up and adjusted his wig happily
“I like a girl with spirit,” he said. “How about you and me having a little tete-a-tete when this is over?”
Nanny Ogg’s face went blank. Her cosmopolitan grip of language had momentarily let her down shop.177Terry PratchettGrape the Happy Raisin. Long-banked fires gave off a little smoke.Besides, she’d rather liked Casanunda. Most men were oblique in their approach, whereas his direct attack was refreshing.“It’d never work,” she said. “We’re basically incompati-ble. When I’m 5’ 4” you’ll still only be 3’ 9”. Anyway, I’m old enough to be your mother.”“You can’t be. My mother’s nearly 300, and she’s got a better beard than you.”And of course that was another point. By dwarf stan-dards

Pop art miles 1960, on rust

Pop art miles 1960, on rustPop art miles 1960, on bluePop art long stage rayPop art lazy afternoon
LQR08 ftffQ LftQf£6
stuff, and lord it over all us stay-at-homes, and that will be fine. But if you stay here and keep trying to call the ... Lords and Ladies, then you’ll be up against me again. Not playing stupid games in the daylight, but real witchcraft. Not messing around with moons and circles, but the true stuff, out of the blood and the bone and out of the head. And you don’t know nothin’ about that. Right? And it don’t allow for mercy.”
Diamanda There was a series of jerks and tings as the hobnails tore out of her boots and sped toward the stones.
No iron could go through the stones, no iron at all.
Granny was already racing over the turf when she real-ized what that meant. But it didn’t matter. She’d made a choice.
There was a feeling of dislocation, as directions danced and twirled around. And then snow looked up. Her face was red where the slap had landed.“Go?” she said.Granny reacted a second too late.Diamanda darted between the stones.“You stupid child! Not that way’.”The figure was already getting smaller, even though it appeared to be only a few feet away.“Oh, drat!”Granny dived after her, and heard her skirt rip as the pocket tore. The poker she’d brought along whirred away and clanked against one of the Dancers.

Andy Warhol dollar sign black and yellow on red

Andy Warhol dollar sign black and yellow on redAndy Warhol Diamond Dust Shoes Lilac Blue GreenAndy Warhol Daisy Double Pink
wizards relaxed.
“Damn things turning up everywhere this year,” said the Archchancellor. He hadn’t taken his hat off to eat the meal. This was because it was holding down a poultice of honey and horse manure and a small mouse-powered electrostatic generator he’d got those clever young fellas in the High Energy Magic research building to knock together for him, clever fellas they were, one day he might even understand half of what they were always gabblin’ on about...
In the meantime, he’d keep his hat on.
“Particularly , right?”
“Not exactly a—“
“And the word ‘quantum’ is hurryin’ toward your lips again,” said Ridcully.strong, too,” said the Dean. “The gardener told me yesterday they’re playing merry hell with the cabbages.”“I thought them things only turned up out in fields and things,” said Ridcully. “Perfectly normal natural phe-nomenon.”“If there is a suitably high flux level, the inter-continuum pressure can probably overcome quite a high base reality quotient,” said the Reader in Invisible Writings.The conversation stopped. Everyone turned to look at this most wretched and least senior member of the staff.The Archancellor glowered.“I don’t even want you to begin to start explainin’ that,” he said. “You’re probably goin’ to go on about the universe bein’ a rubber sheet with weights on it again
“Well, the—“
“And ‘continuinuinuum’ too, I expect,” said Ridcully.
The Reader in Invisible Writings, a young wizard whose name was Ponder Stibbons, sighed

Pop art why are you still here

Pop art why are you still herePop art trane in redPop art stevie on brown
witches pass over the borders of Lancre, the kingdom, and very shortly afterward over the town of Lancre itself. They begin their descent over the moorlands beyond, eventually touching down near a standing stone which happens to mark the boundaries of their territories.
They’re back.
And everything’s all right again.
For about around . ..
But she could afford an hour with her feet up first.
There was a robin’s nest in the kettle, too. The birds had got in through a broken window pane. She carefully took the kettle outside and wedged it over the door so’s to be safe from weasels, and boiled up some water in a saucepan.
Then she wound up the clock. Witches didn’t have much use for clocks, but she kept five minutes.‘ There was a badger in the privy.Granny Weatherwax poked it with her broom until it gotthe message and lumbered off. Then she took down the key13Terry Pratchettwhich hung on the nail beside the copy of last year’s Almanack And Booke Of Dayes, and walked back up the path to her cottage.A whole winter away! There’d be a lot to do. Go and pick the goats up from Mr. Skindle, get the spiders out of the chimney, fish the frogs out of the well, and generally get back into the business of minding everyone’s business for them because there’d be no telling what business people’d get up to without a witch

Wassily Kandinsky Red Spot II

Wassily Kandinsky Red Spot IIWassily Kandinsky Flood ImprovisationVincent van Gogh Autumn Landscape
woke up, or at least ceased trying to sleep. Lu-Tze had gone. Probably sweeping somewhere.
He wandered . Last night he had been in a mood to confront Vorbis there and then. Last night there seemed to be a chance. Anything was possible last night. That was the trouble with last nights. They were always followed by this mornings.
He wandered out into the kitchen level, and then into the outside world. There were one or two cooks around, preparing the ceremonial meal of meat, bread, and salt, but they paid him no attention at all.
He sat down outside one of the slaughterhouses. There was, he knew, a back through the deserted corridors of the novice section. It would be hours before the new Cenobiarch was crowned. There were dozens of ceremonies to be undertaken first. Everyone who was anyone would be in the Place and the surrounding piazzas, and so would the even greater number of people who were no one very much. The sestinas were empty, the endless prayers left unsung. The Citadel might have been dead, were it not for the huge indefinable background roar of tens of thousands of people being silent. Sunlight filtered down through the light-wells.Brutha had never felt more alone. The wilderness had been a feast of fun compared to this. Last night . . . last night, with Lu-Tze, it had all seemed so clear

Edvard Munch Girls on a Bridge

Edvard Munch Girls on a BridgeUnknown Artist Brent Heighton After the RainAlbert Moore silver
Om hesitated.
All right, all right. We are here and it is now. Sooner or later he'll find out for himself . . .
"They don't believe," said Om.
"But-”
"It's happened before," said the tortoise. "Dozens of times. D'you know Abraxas found the lost city of Ee? Very strange carvings, he says. Belief, he says. Belief shifts. People start out believing in the god and end up believing in the structure."
"I don't understand," said Brutha.
"Let me put it another way," said the tortoise. "I am your God, right?"
"Yes."
"And you'll obey me."
"Yes."lives in the same way. It makes a bigger and bigger shell until it can't move around any more, and so it dies."
"But . . . but . . . that means . . . the whole Church . . ."
"Yes.""Good. Now take a rock and go and kill Vorbis."Brutha didn't move."I'm sure you heard me," said Om."But he'll . . . he's . . . the Quisition would-”"Now you know what I mean," said the tortoise. "You're more afraid of him than you are of me, now. Abraxas says here: `Around the Godde there forms a Shelle of prayers and Ceremonies and Buildings and Priestes and Authority, until at Last the Godde Dies. Ande this maye notte be noticed.' ""That can't be true!""I think it is. Abraxas says there's a kind of shellfish that
Brutha tried to keep hold of the idea, but the sheer enormity of it kept wrenching

Leroy Neiman Rocky vs Apollo

Leroy Neiman Rocky vs ApolloAndy Warhol SupermanAndy Warhol Sunset
Because you're the God," said Brutha. "Abbys, chapter LVI, verse 17: `All of mortal mind he knows, and there are no secrets.' "
"Was he and in His Justice," said Brutha. "And I shall go on believing, whatever you say, and whatever you are."
"Good to hear it," said the tortoise fervently. "Hold that thought. Where are we?"
"On a boat," said Brutha. "On the sea. Wobbling."
"Going to Ephebe on a boat? What's wrong with the desert?"
"No one can cross the desert. No one can live in the heart of the desert."
"I did."
"It's only a couple of days' sailing." Brutha's stomach lurched, even the one with the bad teeth?"Brutha hung his head."Listen," said the tortoise, "I am what I am. I can't help it if people think something else.""But you knew about my thoughts . . . in the garden . . ." muttered Brutha.The tortoise hesitated. "That was different," it said. "They weren't . . . thoughts. That was guilt.""I believe that the Great God is Om,

Johannes Vermeer Mistress and Maid

Johannes Vermeer Mistress and MaidUnknown Artist Vanitas Still LifeJohn Constable Wivenhoe Park
And there was a metallic thud as Coin caught it onehandedly in mid-flight.
The staff the stones and rolled to a halt, wizards scattering out of its path.
Coin sagged to his knees, shaking.
'I don't like killing people,' he said. 'I'm sure it can't be right.'
'Hold on to that thought,' said Rincewind fervently.
'What happens to people after they're dead?' said Coin.
Rincewind glanced up at Death.uttered a noise like a thousand fingernails dragging across glass. It thrashed wildly up and down, flailing at the arm that held it, and bloomed into evil green flame along its entire length.So. At the last, you fail me.Coin groaned but held on as the metal under his fingertips went red, then white.He thrust the arm out in front of him, and the force streaming from the staff roared past him and drew sparks from his hair and whipped his robe up into weird and unpleasant shapes. He screamed and whirled the staff round and smashed it on the parapet, leaving a long bubbling line in the stone.Then he threw it away. It clattered against

Thomas Moran Autumn Landscape

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Rincewind glared at her. He tried to think of what to say next, and a small receptor area opened in his mind at the same time as an inspiration particle, its path bent and skewed by a trillion random events, screamed down through the atmosphere and burst silently just at the right spot.
'Talent just defines what you do,' he said. 'It doesn't define what you are. Deep down, I mean. When you know what you are, you can do anything.'
He thought a bit more and added, 'That's what makes sourcerers so powerful. The important thing is to know what you A basilisk lay panting in the baking shade of a rock, dribbling corrosive yellow slime. For the last five minutes its ears had been detecting the faint thump of hundreds of little legs moving unsteadily over the dunes, which seemed to indicate that dinner was on the way.
It blinked its legendary eyes and uncoiled twenty feet of hungry body, winding out and on to the sand like fluid death.really are.'There was a pause full of philosophy.'Rincewind?' said Conina, kindly.'Hmm?' said Rincewind, who was still wondering how the words got into his head.'You really are an idiot. Do you know that?''You will all stand very still.'Abrim the vizier stepped out of a ruined archway. He was wearing the Archchancellor's hat. The desert fried under the flame of the sun. Nothing moved except the shimmering air, hot as a stolen volcano, dry as a skull.