Juan Gris Portrait of Josette Gris

Juan Gris Portrait of Josette GrisJuan Gris Pears and Grapes on a TableJuan Gris Guitar with ClarinetJuan Gris Guitar on a TableJuan Gris Guitar and Music Pape
he galloped between the cheering lines of spectators towards the University and the big scene.
The handleman relaxed. Ginger tapped him on the shoulder.
‘If you stop turning that handle,’ she said sweetly, ‘I’ll break your bloody neck.’
‘But he’s nearly out of shot‑‘
Ginger propelled him towards Windle Poons’ ancient wheelchair and gave Windle a smile that made little clouds of wax boil out of his ears.
‘Excuse .
All he had to do was cut across through the cloisters and . . .
PLIB.
All eight pottery elephants shot pellets at once. The resograph exploded, turning the roof into something like a pepper shaker.me,’ she said, in a sultry voice that caused all the wizards to curl their toes up in their pointy shoes, ‘but could we borrow you for a minute?’‘Way‑hey! Draw it mild!’ . . . whumm . . . whumm . . .Ponder Stibbons knew about the vase, of course. All the students had wandered along to have a look at it.He didn’t pay it much attention as he sneaked along the corridor, attempting once again to make a bid for an evening’s freedom .. . . whummwhummWHUMMWHUMMWHUMMMMwhumm

Bernhard Gutmann Study of a Woman in Black

Bernhard Gutmann Study of a Woman in BlackBernhard Gutmann Nude with DraperyPaul Klee The Rose GardenPaul Klee Red BallonPaul Klee Park of Idols
landing in front of him.
Gaspode unpeeled his tongue from the back of his throat.
‘Good boy,’ he muttered. ‘Good boy.’

Victor sat up, rubbing his head.
‘I caught myself aright crack when the chair fell backwards,’ he said.
Laddie sat looking expectantly, with the remains of the sheet in his mouth.
‘What’s he waiting for?’ said Victor.
‘You’ve got to tell him he’s a good boy,’ sighed Gaspode.
‘Doesn’t he gracefully. He paused at the bottom of the stairs and gave an eager, follow‑me bark.
‘Pathetic,’ said Gaspode, miserably.expect some meat or a sweet or something?’Gaspode shook his head. ‘Jus’ tell him what a good boy he is. It’s better’n hard currency, for dogs.’‘Oh? Well, then: good boy, Laddie.’Laddie bounced up and down excitedly. Gaspode swore under his breath.‘Sorry about this,’ he said. ‘Pathetic, isn’t it?’‘Good boy, find Ginger,’ said Victor.‘Look, I can do that,’ said Gaspode desperately, as Laddie started snuffling at the floor. ‘We all know where she’s headed. You don’t have to go and‑‘Laddie dashed out of the door, but

The stars always seemed to shine more brightly over Holy Wood. Of course, the air was clearer than Ankh, and there wasn’t much smoke, but even

Pablo Picasso The Shadow

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heard once where there was this city that was so wicked that the gods turned it into a puddle of molten glass,’ said Gaspode, apropos of nothing. ‘And the only person who saw it happen was turned into a pillar of salt by day and a cheese shaker by night.’
‘Gosh. Gaspode.
‘He likes you,’ said Victor.
‘Huh,’ sniffed Gaspode. ‘How’re dogs ever goin’ to amount to anything if they bounce around worshipping people just ‘cos they’ve been given a meal? What’s he want me to do with thisWhat had the people been doing?’ ‘Dunno. Prob’ly not much. It doesn’t take much to annoy gods.’ ‘Me good boy! Good boy Laddie!’ The dog came streaking over the dunes, a comet of gold and orange hair. It skidded to a halt in front of Gaspode, and then began to dance around excitedly, yapping. ‘He’s escaped and he wants me to play with him,’ said Gaspode despondently. ‘Ridiculous, ain’t it? Laddie drop dead.’ Laddie rolled over obediently, all four legs in the air. ‘See? He understands every word I say,’ muttered

Lazlo Emmerich Kenya

Lazlo Emmerich KenyaDiego Rivera Night of the RichLeroy Neiman FemlinUnknown Artist Abstract Autumn by DougallAndy Warhol Shot Blue Marilyn 1964
hot breathless darkness of a clapboard shack, Ginger Withel dreamed of red carpets and cheering crowds. And a grating. She kept coming back to a grating, in the dream, where a rush of warm air blew up her skirts . . .
In the not much cooler darkness of a marginally more expensive shack, Silverfish the moving picturesmith dreamed of selling horses to riding them, but he was there now.
The storms that so carefully avoided Holy Wood didn’t worry about Ankh-Morpork, and it was pouring with rain. That didn’t stop the city’s night life, though - it just made it damper. cheering crowds, and someone giving him a prize for the best moving picture ever made. It was a great big statue. Out in the sand dunes Rock and Morry dozed fitfully, because trolls are night creatures by nature and sleeping in darkness bruised the instincts of eons. They dreamed of mountains. Down on the beach, under the stars, Victor dreamed of pounding hooves, flowing robes, pirate ships, sword fights, chandeliers . . . On the next dune, Gaspode the Wonder Dog slept with one eye open and dreamed of wolves. But Cut-me-own-Throat Dibbler was not dreaming, because he was not asleep. It had been a long ride to Ankh-Morpork and he preferred

Brent Heighton After the Rain

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Then he looked for the prospective victim, who was still cowering against the wall.
‘I hope you’re not hurt,’ he said.
‘Don’t move!’
‘I about that.’
He stepped forward and tried to put his arm round Victor’s shoulders. ‘It’s lucky for you’, he said, ‘that you met me.’
‘It is?’ said Victor, who had been thinking it was the other way around.
‘You’re just the type I’m looking for,’ said the man.
‘Sorry,’ said Victor. ‘I thought you were being robbed.’ wasn’t going to,’ said Victor. The figure advanced from the shadows. It had a package under one arm, and its hands were held in front of its face in an odd gesture, each forefinger and thumb extended at right angles and then fitted together, so that the man’s little weaselly eyes appeared to be looking out through a frame. He’s probably warding off the Evil Eye, Victor thought. He looks like a wizard, with all those symbols on his dress. ‘Amazing!’ said the man, squinting through his fingers. ‘Just turn your head slightly, will you? Great! Pity about the nose, but I expect we can do something

Amedeo Modigliani the Reclining Nude

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'And we take no heed to these mad rumours about the king's disappearance. They are undoubtedly wild exaggerations, with no foundation,' said Koomi.
The - how long? Too long, too long! - And he should have gone to his rest long before, but the time had never been right, there was never anyone capable, they would have been lost without him, the kingdom would founder, he would be letting everyone down, and so he'd crossed the river. . . he swore every time that it was the last, but it never was, not when the chill fetched his limbs, and the decades had become - longer. And now, when his kingdom needed him, the words of a Ritual had scored themselves into the pathways of his brain and bewildered all attempts at thought.
'Er,' he said.
priests nodded while, in each mind, a tiny rumour uncurled the length of its tail. 'What rumours?' said Dios out of the corner of his mouth. 'So enlighten us, master, as to the path we must now take,' said Koomi. Dios wavered. He did not know what to do. For him, this was a new experience. This was Change. All he could think of, all that was pressing forward in his mind, were the words of the Ritual of the Third Hour, which he had said at this time for

Jack Vettriano Games of Power

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'Gosh!' said Teppic, fascinated. 'Really?' He was quite glad his bed was opposite Arthur's, and would offer an unrivalled view. 'What religion would this be?'
'We're Strict Authorised Ormits,' said Arthur. He blew his nose. 'I noticed you don't pray,' he said. 'Don't you have a god?'
'Oh yes,' said Teppic hesitantly, 'no doubt about that.'
'You don't I come from,' said Teppic hurriedly. 'He doesn't have to do very much. That is, the priests do the actual running of the country. He just makes sure that the river floods every year, d'you see, and services the Great Cow of the Arch of the Sky. Well, used to.'seem to want to talk to him.' Teppic shook his head. 'I can't,' he said, 'not here. He wouldn't be able to hear, you see.' 'My god can hear me anywhere,' said Arthur fervently. 'Well, mine has difficulty if you're on the other side of the room,' said Teppic. 'It can be very embarrassing.' 'You're not an Offlian, are you?' said Arthur. Offler was a Crocodile God, and lacked ears. 'No.' 'What god do you worship, then?' 'Not exactly worship,' said Teppic, discomforted. 'I wouldn't say worship. I mean, he's all right. He's my father, if you must know.' Arthur's pink-rimmed eyes widened. 'You're the son of a god?' he whispered. 'It's all part of being a king, where

Edward Hopper Office in a Small City

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the duke upon the instant!' shouted the guard. 'Witches are abroad!'
The porter was about to come back with, 'Good time of year for it', or 'Wish I was, too', but stopped when he saw the man's face. It wasn't the face of a man who would enter into the spirit of the thing. It was the look of someone who had seen things a decent man shouldn't wot of . . .
den.' ,
'That other man brought him out here to save him!' shouted Magrat. 'He wanted us to keep him safe! It's obvious! It's destiny!'
'Oh, obvious,' said Granny. 'I'll grant you it's obvious. Trouble is, just because things are obvious doesn't mean they're true.'other two watched her for some time. 'Well?' said Magrat.
Granny's fingers drummed on the edge of the crown. She frowned.
'First, we've got to take him away from here,' she said, and held up a hand. 'No, Gytha, I'm sure your cottage is ideal and everything,

Brent Lynch Coastal Drive

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'Better than drowning,' Nanny said.
She reached up to the mantelpiece and took down a clay pipe that was like a small tar pit. She lit it with a spill from the remains of the fire, while Greebo watched her carefully from his cushion.
Magrat idly lifted the hood from the ball and glared at it.
'I think,' she said, 'that I will never really understand about witchcraft. Just when I think I've got a grip on it, it changes.'
'We're all just people.' Nanny blew a cloud of blue smoke at the chimney. 'Everyone's just people.'
'Can I . On top of the general suspicion of witches, it was dawning on the few people in Lancre who had any dealings with the outside world that a) either more things had been happening than they had heard about before or b) time was out of joint. It wasn't easy to the few traders who came along the mountain tracks after the winter seemed to be rather older than they should have been. Unexplained happenings were always more or less expected borrow the crystal?' said Magrat suddenly.'Feel free,' said Nanny. She grinned at Magrat's back. 'Had a row with your young man?' she said.'I really don't know what you're talking about.''Haven't seen him around for weeks.''Oh, the duke sent him to—' Magrat stopped, and went on – 'sent him away for something or other. Not that it bothers me at all, either way.''So I see. Take the ball, by all means.'Magrat was glad to get back home. No-one was about on the moors at night anyway, but over the last couple of months things had definitely been getting worse

Paul Cezanne Still Life with Onions

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quiet, husband,' snapped the duchess. 'I know you didn't do it. I wasn't there with you, you may recall. It was I who didn't hand you the dagger.' The duke shuddered again.
'And now, Fool,' said Lady Felmet. 'I was saying, I believe, that perhaps there are matters that should be properly 'Any stairs,' said the Fool, who was beginning to sweat. 'I distinctly remember not seeing you!'
The duchess eyed him for a while.
'So long as you remember it,' she said. The duchess rubbed her chin, which made an audible rasping noise.
'Reality is only weak words, you say. Therefore, words are reality. But how can words become history?'recorded.''Marry, that you were not there at the time?' said the Fool, brightly.It is true that words have power, and one of the things they are able to do is get out of someone's mouth before the speaker has the chance to stop them. If words were sweet little lambs, then the Fool watched them bound cheerfully away into the flamethrower of the duchess's glare.'Not where?' she said.'Anywhere,' said the Fool hastily.'Stupid man! Everyone is somewhere.''I mean, you were everywhere but at the top of the stairs,' said the Fool.'Which stairs?'

Peter Paul Rubens Garden of Love

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'He had some people executed in Lancre, the other day for saying it,' Magrat went on. 'Spreading malicious lies, he said. He said anyone saying different will see the inside of his dungeons, only not for long. He said Verence died of natural causes.'
'Well, being assassinated is natural causes for a king,' said Granny. 'I don't see why he's so sheepish about it. When 'He was hanging about in my raspberry bushes,' said Granny. 'Only, when I went out to see what he wanted, he ran away.'
'Actually, I gave him tuppence,' said Magrat. 'He said he was going to be torturedold Thargum was killed they stuck his head on a pole, had a big bonfire and everyone in the palace got drunk for a week.''I remember,' said Nanny. 'They carried his head all round the villages to show he was dead. Very convincing, I thought. Specially for him. He was grinning. I think it was the way he would have liked to go.''I think we might have to keep an eye on this one, though,' said Granny. 'I think he might be a bit clever. That's not a good thing, in a king. And I don't think he knows how to show respect.''A man came to see me last week to ask if I wanted to pay any taxes,' said Magrat. 'I told him no.''He came to see me, too,' said Nanny Ogg. 'But our Jason and our Wane went out and tole him we didn't want to join.''Small man, bald, black cloak?' said Granny thoughtfully.'Yes,' said the other two.

Herbert James Draper Portrait Of Miss Barbara De Selincourt

Herbert James Draper Portrait Of Miss Barbara De SelincourtHerbert James Draper Day and the DawnstarGeorge Inness The Delaware Water Gap
strode through the cat-black corridors of the pyramid, with Ysabell hurrying along behind him. The faint glow from his sword illuminated unpleasant things; Offler the Crocodile God was a cosmetics advert compared to some of 'All I'll say is that when the Tsorteans put a curse on a place, they don't mess about.'
Mort turned a corner and Ysabell lost sight of him for a heart-stopping moment. She scurried through the darkness and cannoned into him. He was examining a dog-headed bird.
'Urgh,' she said. 'Doesn't it send shivers up your spine?'the things the people of Tsort worshipped. In alcoves along the way were statues of creatures apparently built of all the bits God had left over.'What are they here for?' whispered Ysabell.'The Tsortean priests say they come alive when the pyramid is sealed and prowl the corridors to protect the body of the king from tomb robbers,' said Mort.'What a horrible superstition.''Who said anything about superstition?' said Mort absently.'They really come alive?'

Guido Reni Archangel Michael

Guido Reni Archangel MichaelGuido Reni The Archangel MichaelGuido Reni Salome with the head of St John the Baptist
Mort was hurt by this. It was one thing not to want to marry someone, but quite another to be told they didn't want to marry you.
'At least I don't look like I've been eating doughnuts in a wardrobe for years,' he said, as they stepped out on to Death's black lawn.
'At least I walk as if my legs only had one knee each,' she said.
'My eyes contained enough puppy fat for two litters of Rotweilers, and forbore to comment.
'My eyebrows don't look like a pair of mating caterpillars,' he hazarded.
True. But my legs, I suggest, could at least stop a pig in aaren't two juugly poached eggs.'Ysabell nodded. 'On the other hand, my ears don't look like something growing on a dead tree. What does juugly mean?''You know, eggs like Albert does them.''With the white all sticky and runny and full of slimy bits?''Yes.''A good word,' she conceded thoughtfully. 'But my hair, I put it to you, doesn't look like something you clean a privy with.''Certainly, but neither does mine look like a wet hedgehog.''Pray note that my chest does not appear to be a toast rack in a wet paper bag.'Mort glanced sideways at the top of Ysabell's dress, which

Wassily Kandinsky Yellow Red Blue

Wassily Kandinsky Yellow Red BlueVincent van Gogh The SowerVincent van Gogh The Night CafeVincent van Gogh Cafe Terrace at Night
couple of people at the next stall were looking at Mort thoughtfully. His mind went into overdrive.
'My master travels a lot,' he said, truthfully. 'We arrived last night, and I was asleep on the cart. Now I've got the afternoon off.'
'Ah,' said the The stallholder regarded Mort critically, noting the pale face, well-cut clothes and strange presence, a sort of coiled spring effect.
'Look, I'll be frank,' he said. 'I could point you in the direction of a great brothel.'
'I've already had lunch,' said Mort, vaguely. 'But you can tell me if stallholder. He leaned forward conspiratorially. 'Looking for a good time, are you? I could fix you up.''I'd quite enjoy knowing where I am,' Mort conceded.The man was taken aback.'This is Ankh-Morpork,' he said. 'Anyone ought to be able to see that. Smell it, too.'Mort sniffed. There was a certain something about the air in the city. You got the feeling that it was with every breath that thousands of other people were very close to you and nearly all of them had armpits.

Rembrandt The Return of the Prodigal Son

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didn't have white hair in those days," said Granny.
"Everything was a different colour in those days."
"That's true."
"It didn't rain so much in the summer time."
"The sunsets were redder."
"There were more old people. The world was full of them," said the wizard.
"Yes, I , and they had children and even grandchildren, and not one of them can hardly write his name. I could have bought the whole village. And they treated me like a king, but- I mean, I've been to places and seen things that would curdle their minds, I've faced down creatures wilder than their nightmares, I know secrets that are known to a very few -"
"You felt left out," said Granny. "There's nothing strange in that. It happens to all of us. It was our choice."
"Wizards should never go agreed Granny. "You can't cross the same river twice, I always say."know. And now it's full of young people. Funny, really. I mean, you'd expect it to be the other way round." "They even had a better kind of air. It was easier to breathe," said Cutangle. They stamped on through the swirling snow, considering the curious ways of time and Nature. "Ever been Home again?" said Granny. Cutangle shrugged. "When my father died. It's odd, I've never said this to anyone, but-well, there were my brothers, because I am an eighth son of course

Franz Marc Zwei Katzen

Franz Marc Zwei KatzenFranz Marc yellow cowFranz Marc Tiger
could feel the pure gold sweating gently out of that ancient woodwork.
With some care he took a small glass from his store under the counter and let a few splashes of the dark golden liquid escape from the tap. He looked at it thoughtfully in the lamplight,
turned the He gave up.
"Bharrgsh nargh!"
His wife snorted and took the glass out of his unprotesting hand. She sniffed it. She looked at the barrels, all ten of them. She met his unsteady eye. In a private paradise for two they soundlessly glass around methodically, sniffed it a few times, and tossed its contents back in one swallow. His face remained unchanged, although his eyes went moist and his throat wobbled somewhat. His wife and Esk watched him as a thin beading of sweat broke out on his forehead. Ten seconds passed, and he was obviously out to break some heroic record. There may have been steam curling out of his ears, but that could have been a rumour. His fingers drummed a strange tattoo on the bartop. At last he swallowed, appeared to reach a decision, turned solemnly to Esk, and said, "Hwarl,ish finish saaarghs ishghs oorgsh?" His brow wrinkled as he ran the sentence past his mind again and made a second attempt. "Aargh argh shaah gok?"

Andy Warhol Sunset

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any.
Is this it? he shouted at it. When it's time for the showdown, you go and hide? You're frightened?
The Spell said, that's nonsense, you can't possibly believe that, I'm one of the Eight Spells. But Rincewind advanced on it angrily, shouting, Maybe, but the fact is I do believe it and you'd better remember whose head you're in, right? I can believe anything I like in here!
Trymon laughed, and flexed his fingers. For a moment his attention was diverted.
Rincewind was angry. He was angry at the Spell, at the world, at the unfairness of everything, at the fact that he hadn't had much sleep lately, at the fact that he wasn't thinking quite straight. Rincewind jumped aside again as another bolt of fire lanced through the hot night. Trymon grinned, and made nother complicated motion with his hands.Pressure gripped Rincewind. Every inch of his skin felt as though it was being used as an anvil. He flopped onto his knees.'There are much worse things,' said Trymon pleasantly. 'I can make your flesh burn on the bones, or fill your body with ants. I have the power to —''I have a sword, you know.'The voice was squeaky with defiance.Rincewind raised his head. Through a purple haze of pain he saw Twoflower standing behind Trymon, holding a sword in exactly the wrong way.

Jack Vettriano Dancing Couple

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if I wash a shark or something, yesh, I'd Cohen sarcastically.
'Oh, no, you buy them,' said Twoflower. 'Look, I'll show you – er, Bethan, do you mind looking the other way?' He waited until she had turned around and then put his hand to his mouth.
'You deal less impressive.
'I should think show,' he said. 'When they ache, you jusht take them out and let them get on with it, yesh?
Teach the little buggersh a lesshon, shee how they like being left to ache all by themshelvesh!'
That's not quite right,' said Twoflower carefully. They're not mine, they just belong to me.'
'You elshe's teethsh in your mouth?'
'No, someone made them, lots of people wear them where I come from, it's a—'shee?' he said.Bethan heard Cohen gasp.'You can take yoursh out?''Oh yesh. I've got sheveral shets. Excushe me—' there was a swallowing noise, and then in a more normal voice Twoflower said, 'It's very convenient, of course.'Cohen's very voice radiated awe, or as much awe as is possible without teeth, which is about the same amount as with teeth but sounds a great
But Twoflower's lecture on dental appliances went ungiven, because somebody hit him.

Salvador Dali Meditation on the Harp

Salvador Dali Meditation on the HarpSalvador Dali Galatea of the SpheresSalvador Dali GalarinaSalvador Dali Figure at a Window I
very carefully before answering Twoflower's more surprising questions.
'What for?' he said, cautiously.
'Well, it just reeks of ambience.'
'Oh.'tiger, and then looked back at Twoflower. His face fell.
'Could you?' he repeated.
He had never quite come to terms with the fact that the inside of the Luggage didn't seem to inhabit quite the same world as the outside. Of course, this was simply a byproduct of its essential weirdness, but it was disconcerting to see Twoflower fill it full of dirty shirts and old socks and then 'What's ambience?' said Swires, sniffing cautiously and wearing the kind of expression that said that he hadn't done it, whatever it was.'I think it's a kind of frog,' said Rincewind. 'Anyway, you can't buy this place because there isn't anyone to buy t from—''I think I could probably arrange that, on behalf of the forest council of course,' interrupted Swires, trying to avoid Rincewind's glare.'— and anyway you couldn't take it with you, I mean, you could hardly pack it in the Luggage, could you?' Rincewind indicated the Luggage, which was lying by the fire and managing in some quite impossible way to look like a contented but alert

Camille Pissarro The Chestnut Trees at Osny

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ear, "And you are fortunate indeed to be looking at it. From above, at any rate." and the voice was accompanied by a gust of cold and fishy breath, Rincewind sat quite still.
"Twoflower?" he said.
"Yes?"
"If I turn .
"Yes. It runs along the edge of the world," said the unseen troll. Above the roar of the waterfall Rincewind thought he could make out the splash of oars. He hoped they were oars.
"Ah. You mean the circumference," said around, what will I see?""His name is Tethis. He says he's a sea troll. This is his boat. He rescued us," explained Twoflower"Will you look around now?""Not just at the moment, thank you. So why aren't we going over the Edge, then?" asked Rincewind with glassy calmness."Because your boat hit the Circumfence," said the voice behind him (in tones that made Rincewind imagine submarine chasms and lurking Things in coral reefs)."The Circumfence?" he repeated