Thomas Kinkade Golden Gate Bridge San Francisco
from the audience. The band struck up the clown anthem 'The March of the Idiots', and the end of the trombone flew off and hit a clown on the back of the head. He turned and swung a punch at the clown behind him, who ducked, causing
Thomas Kinkade Evening on the Avenue
third clown to be knocked through the bass drum.Colon and Nobby looked at one another and shook their heads.Boffo produced a large
Thomas Kinkade Cobblestone Christmas
said Colon flatly.'Yes. That's what Dr Whiteface thinks.' Boffo glanced upwards, briefly. They followed his gaze. The rooftops of the Assassins' Guild adjoined the Fools' Guild. It didn't do to upset neighbours like that, especially when the only weapon you had was a custard pie edged with short-crust pastry.'That's what Dr Whiteface
Thomas Kinkade Cobblestone Brooke
solemnity, poured the ashes of the late Brother Beano into the other clown's trousers.
A sigh went up a red and white handkerchief and blew his nose with a humorous honking sound.
'Classic,' he said. 'It's what he would have wanted.'
'Have you any idea what happened?' said Colon.
'Oh, yes. Brother Grineldi did the old heel-and-toe trick and tipped the urn down—'
'I mean, why did Beano die?'
'Um. We think it was an accident,' said Boffo.
'An accident,' thinks,' said Boffo again, looking at his enormous shoes.
Sergeant Colon liked a quiet life. And the city could spare a clown or two. In his opinion, the loss of the whole boiling could only make the world a slightly happier place. And yet . . . and yet . . . honestly, he didn't know what had got into the Watch lately. It was Carrot, that wras what it was. Even old Vimes
Tuesday, April 28, 2009
Jean Fragonard The Love Letter
Jean Fragonard The Love LetterJean Fragonard The BoltJoaquin Sorolla y Bastida The Two Sisters
pedal-driven carillon in the Fools' Guild would be tinkling, the gongs, bells and chimes of all the Guilds and temples would be in full swing, taking an interest.'
'Dear me. But it is his job.'
'Really? I must demand that you call him off!'
The words echoed around the garden. Several pigeons flew away.
'Demand?' said the Patrician, sweetly.
Dr Cruces backed and filled desperately. 'He is a servant after all,' he said. 'I see no reason why he should be allowed to involve himself in affairs that don't concern him.'
'I rather believe he thinks he's a servant of the and it was impossible to tell them apart, except for the tongueless and magical octiron bell of Old Tom in the Unseen University clock tower, whose twelve measured silences temporarily overruled the din.And finally, several strokes behind all the others, was the bell of the Assassins' Guild, which was always last.Beside the Patrician, the ornamental sundial chimed twice and fell over.'You were saying?' said the Patrician mildly.'Captain Vimes,' said Dr Cruces. 'He's
pedal-driven carillon in the Fools' Guild would be tinkling, the gongs, bells and chimes of all the Guilds and temples would be in full swing, taking an interest.'
'Dear me. But it is his job.'
'Really? I must demand that you call him off!'
The words echoed around the garden. Several pigeons flew away.
'Demand?' said the Patrician, sweetly.
Dr Cruces backed and filled desperately. 'He is a servant after all,' he said. 'I see no reason why he should be allowed to involve himself in affairs that don't concern him.'
'I rather believe he thinks he's a servant of the and it was impossible to tell them apart, except for the tongueless and magical octiron bell of Old Tom in the Unseen University clock tower, whose twelve measured silences temporarily overruled the din.And finally, several strokes behind all the others, was the bell of the Assassins' Guild, which was always last.Beside the Patrician, the ornamental sundial chimed twice and fell over.'You were saying?' said the Patrician mildly.'Captain Vimes,' said Dr Cruces. 'He's
Sunday, April 26, 2009
Mark Spain Only You
Mark Spain Only YouMark Spain Night LightMark Spain Forever YouMark Spain Flamenco IIMark Spain Flamenco I
Poem?”
“The one where you did the gestures.”
“Oh, that poem.”
“I saw Verence making notes on his napkin.”
Nanny They walked in silence for a while.
“So you didn’t tell her that Queen Ynci never existed, then?”
“No point.”
“Old King Lully invented her entirely ‘cos he thought we needed a bit of romantic history. He was a bit mad about that. He even had the armor made.”
“I know. My great-grandma’s husband hammered it out of a tin bath and a couple of saucepans.”
“But you didn’t think you ought to tell her that?”
“No.”
Granny nodded.reached again into the shapeless recesses of her clothing and produced an entire bottle of champagne you could have sworn there was no room for.“Mind you, I thought she looked happy,” she said. “Standing there wearing about half of a torn muddy dress and chain-mail underneath. Hey, d’you know what she told me?”“What?”“You know that ole painting of Queen Ynci? You know, the one with the iron bodice? Her with all the spikes and knives on her chariot? Well, she said she was sure the . . . the spirit of Ynci was helping her. She said she wore the armor and she did things she’d never dare do.”“My word,” said Granny, noncommittally.“Funny ole world,” agreed Nanny.
Poem?”
“The one where you did the gestures.”
“Oh, that poem.”
“I saw Verence making notes on his napkin.”
Nanny They walked in silence for a while.
“So you didn’t tell her that Queen Ynci never existed, then?”
“No point.”
“Old King Lully invented her entirely ‘cos he thought we needed a bit of romantic history. He was a bit mad about that. He even had the armor made.”
“I know. My great-grandma’s husband hammered it out of a tin bath and a couple of saucepans.”
“But you didn’t think you ought to tell her that?”
“No.”
Granny nodded.reached again into the shapeless recesses of her clothing and produced an entire bottle of champagne you could have sworn there was no room for.“Mind you, I thought she looked happy,” she said. “Standing there wearing about half of a torn muddy dress and chain-mail underneath. Hey, d’you know what she told me?”“What?”“You know that ole painting of Queen Ynci? You know, the one with the iron bodice? Her with all the spikes and knives on her chariot? Well, she said she was sure the . . . the spirit of Ynci was helping her. She said she wore the armor and she did things she’d never dare do.”“My word,” said Granny, noncommittally.“Funny ole world,” agreed Nanny.
Friday, April 24, 2009
Franz Marc Foxes
Franz Marc FoxesFranz Marc fighting formsFranz Marc Fate of the Animals
was hopping from one foot to the other.
“We ought to be fighting ‘em. Mum!”
“Look at everyone!” said Nanny. “They’re dog tired and wet and confused! That’s not an army!”
“Mum, Mum, Mum!”
“What?”
“I’ll pussike ‘em up, Mum! That’s what you have to do before troops go into battle. Mum! I read about that in books! You can take a rabble of thingy and make the right kind of speech and pussike them up and turn ‘em into a ter-rible fighting force. Mum!”
“They look terrible anyway!”
“I mean terrible like fierce. Mum!”
Nanny Ogg looked, and banged it on
the planks until people were silent.
He made a speech.
269
Terry Pratchett at the hundred or so Lancre subjects.The thought of them managing to fight anyone at all tooksome getting used to.“You been studyin’ this, Shawn?” she inquired.“I’ve got five years’ worth of Bows and Ammo, Mum,”said Shawn reproachfully.“Give it a try, then. If you think it’ll work.”Trembling with excitement, Shawn climbed on to atable, drew his sword with his good hand
He pointed out that their king had
was hopping from one foot to the other.
“We ought to be fighting ‘em. Mum!”
“Look at everyone!” said Nanny. “They’re dog tired and wet and confused! That’s not an army!”
“Mum, Mum, Mum!”
“What?”
“I’ll pussike ‘em up, Mum! That’s what you have to do before troops go into battle. Mum! I read about that in books! You can take a rabble of thingy and make the right kind of speech and pussike them up and turn ‘em into a ter-rible fighting force. Mum!”
“They look terrible anyway!”
“I mean terrible like fierce. Mum!”
Nanny Ogg looked, and banged it on
the planks until people were silent.
He made a speech.
269
Terry Pratchett at the hundred or so Lancre subjects.The thought of them managing to fight anyone at all tooksome getting used to.“You been studyin’ this, Shawn?” she inquired.“I’ve got five years’ worth of Bows and Ammo, Mum,”said Shawn reproachfully.“Give it a try, then. If you think it’ll work.”Trembling with excitement, Shawn climbed on to atable, drew his sword with his good hand
He pointed out that their king had
Thursday, April 23, 2009
James Jacques Joseph Tissot Journey of the Magi
James Jacques Joseph Tissot Journey of the MagiJules Joseph Lefebvre Mary Magdalene In The CaveClaude Monet Haystack At GivernyClaude Monet Monet Water Lillies I
Terry Pratchett
Verence had bought for her. The same applied to the engagement ring. She wasn’t sure if you were allowed to keep it.And then she heard the singing.
It was, without a doubt, the most beautiful sound Magrat had ever heard. It flowed straight through the ears and into the hindbrain, into the blood, into the bone .. .
A silk camisole dropped from her fingers on to the floor.
She wrenched at the door, and a tiny part of her mind still capable of rational thought remembered about the keyShe glared at herself in the mirror.She’d have to stop thinking like this. She seemed to have spent her whole life trying to make herself small, trying to be polite, apologizing when people walked over her, trying to be good-mannered. And what had happened? People had treated her as if she was small and polite and good-mannered.She’d stick the, the, the damn letter on the mirror, so they’d all know why she’d gone.She’d a damn good mind to go off to one of the cities and become a courtesan.Whatever that was.
Terry Pratchett
Verence had bought for her. The same applied to the engagement ring. She wasn’t sure if you were allowed to keep it.And then she heard the singing.
It was, without a doubt, the most beautiful sound Magrat had ever heard. It flowed straight through the ears and into the hindbrain, into the blood, into the bone .. .
A silk camisole dropped from her fingers on to the floor.
She wrenched at the door, and a tiny part of her mind still capable of rational thought remembered about the keyShe glared at herself in the mirror.She’d have to stop thinking like this. She seemed to have spent her whole life trying to make herself small, trying to be polite, apologizing when people walked over her, trying to be good-mannered. And what had happened? People had treated her as if she was small and polite and good-mannered.She’d stick the, the, the damn letter on the mirror, so they’d all know why she’d gone.She’d a damn good mind to go off to one of the cities and become a courtesan.Whatever that was.
Tuesday, April 21, 2009
Georges Seurat The Island of La Grande Jatte
Georges Seurat The Island of La Grande JatteWilliam Blake The ResurrectionWilliam Blake The Great Red Dragon and the Woman Clothed with SunWilliam Blake The Descent of Christ
square and a gang of men were erecting the Maypole. Someone was nailing up a very badly painted picture of Verence and Magrat under which was the slogan: God Bles Their Majestieys.
With hardly a .
After a while the back door opened and Granny
167
Terry Pratchett
Weather-wax walked out stiffly, holding a bowl of bread and milk. She put it down on the step and turned back without a second glance, closing the door again behind her.
The hare hopped closer.word exchanged, the men parted and stag-gered their separate ways.A hare lolloped through the morning mist until it reached the drunken, ancient cottage in its clearing in the woods.It reached a tree stump between the privy and The Herbs. Most woodland animals avoided The Herbs. This was because animals that didn’t avoid The Herbs over the past fifty years had tended not to have descendants. A few tendrils waved in the breeze and this was odd because there wasn’t any breeze.It sat on the stump.And then there was a sensation of movement. Something left the hare and moved across the air to an open upstairs window. It was invisible, at least to normal eyesight. ‘ The hare changed. Before, it had moved with purpose.Now it flopped down and began to wash its ears
square and a gang of men were erecting the Maypole. Someone was nailing up a very badly painted picture of Verence and Magrat under which was the slogan: God Bles Their Majestieys.
With hardly a .
After a while the back door opened and Granny
167
Terry Pratchett
Weather-wax walked out stiffly, holding a bowl of bread and milk. She put it down on the step and turned back without a second glance, closing the door again behind her.
The hare hopped closer.word exchanged, the men parted and stag-gered their separate ways.A hare lolloped through the morning mist until it reached the drunken, ancient cottage in its clearing in the woods.It reached a tree stump between the privy and The Herbs. Most woodland animals avoided The Herbs. This was because animals that didn’t avoid The Herbs over the past fifty years had tended not to have descendants. A few tendrils waved in the breeze and this was odd because there wasn’t any breeze.It sat on the stump.And then there was a sensation of movement. Something left the hare and moved across the air to an open upstairs window. It was invisible, at least to normal eyesight. ‘ The hare changed. Before, it had moved with purpose.Now it flopped down and began to wash its ears
Monday, April 20, 2009
Leroy Neiman Carnaval Suite Panteras
Leroy Neiman Carnaval Suite PanterasLeroy Neiman Cafe Rive GaucheLeroy Neiman Beach at CannesLeroy Neiman April at Augusta
People had discovered her like this before, and it always caused embarrassment. So now she reassured visitors but tempted fate by always holding, in her rigid hands, a small handwritten sign which read:
I ATE’NT DEAD.
The window was propped open with a piece of wood.
“Ah,” said After a while a small shape flittered across it, heading for the upstairs window.
Nanny poured out the tea. She carefully took one spoon-ful of sugar out of the sugar basin, tipped the rest of the sugar into her cup, put the spoonful back in the basin, put both cups on a tray, and climbed the stairs.
Granny Weatherwax was sitting up in her bed.
Nanny looked around.
There was a large bat hanging upside down from a beam.
55Nanny, far more for her own benefit than for anyone else’s, “I sees you’re out. I’ll, I’ll, I’ll just put the ket-tle on, shall I, and wait ‘til you comes back?”Esme’s skill at Borrowing unnerved her. It was all very well entering the minds of animals and such, but too many witches had never come back. For several years Nanny had put out lumps of fat and bacon rind for a bluetit that she was sure was old Granny Postalute, who’d gone out Borrowing one day and never came back. Insofar as a witch could con-sider things uncanny. Nanny Ogg considered it uncanny.She went back down to the scullery and lowered a bucket down the well, remembering to fish the newts out this time before she boiled the kettle.Then she watched the garden.
People had discovered her like this before, and it always caused embarrassment. So now she reassured visitors but tempted fate by always holding, in her rigid hands, a small handwritten sign which read:
I ATE’NT DEAD.
The window was propped open with a piece of wood.
“Ah,” said After a while a small shape flittered across it, heading for the upstairs window.
Nanny poured out the tea. She carefully took one spoon-ful of sugar out of the sugar basin, tipped the rest of the sugar into her cup, put the spoonful back in the basin, put both cups on a tray, and climbed the stairs.
Granny Weatherwax was sitting up in her bed.
Nanny looked around.
There was a large bat hanging upside down from a beam.
55Nanny, far more for her own benefit than for anyone else’s, “I sees you’re out. I’ll, I’ll, I’ll just put the ket-tle on, shall I, and wait ‘til you comes back?”Esme’s skill at Borrowing unnerved her. It was all very well entering the minds of animals and such, but too many witches had never come back. For several years Nanny had put out lumps of fat and bacon rind for a bluetit that she was sure was old Granny Postalute, who’d gone out Borrowing one day and never came back. Insofar as a witch could con-sider things uncanny. Nanny Ogg considered it uncanny.She went back down to the scullery and lowered a bucket down the well, remembering to fish the newts out this time before she boiled the kettle.Then she watched the garden.
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