Thomas Kinkade Rose Gate

Thomas Kinkade Rose GateThomas Kinkade Paris City of LightsThomas Kinkade New HorizonsThomas Kinkade Mountain MemoriesThomas Kinkade Living Waters
Let’s do it,’ he said, against the sound of distant, terrified trumpeting.
They lay When five hundred crude two‑elephant bobsleighs crested the ridge ten feet away at sixty miles an hour, their strapped‑on occupants trumpeting in panic, they never saw the yetis until they were right on top of them.

Victor got only two hours’ sleep but got up feeling remarkably refreshed and optimistic.
It was all over. Things were going to be a whole lot better now. Ginger had been quite nice to him last night ‑ well, a few hours ago ‑and whatever it was in the hill had been well and truly down in the snow, their white hides turning them into two unsuspicious mounds. It was a technique that had worked time and again, and had been handed down from yeti to yeti for thousands of years, although it wasn’t going to be handed much further.They waited.There was a distant bellowing as the herd approached.Eventually the first troll said, very slowly, because it had been working this out for a long time. ‘What do you get, right, what do you get if, you cross . . . a mountain with a elephant?’It never got an answer.The yetis had been right.

Joaquin Sorolla y Bastida Arrival of the Boats

Joaquin Sorolla y Bastida Arrival of the BoatsJoaquin Sorolla y Bastida Valencian SceneJoaquin Sorolla y Bastida The Wounded FootJoaquin Sorolla y Bastida Stemming Raisins JaveaJoaquin Sorolla y Bastida Sewing the Sail
lettering artist tugged at his sleeve.
‘I was just wondering, Mr Soll, what you wanted me to put in the big scene now Victor doesn’t mention ribs‑‘
‘Don’t worry me now, man!’
‘But if you could just give me an idea‑‘
Soll firmly he knew he was doing it right.
He’d trapped everything from zebras to thargas in his time, and what had he got to show for it? But yesterday, when he’d taken a load of skins into N’kouf, he’d heard a trader say that if any man ever built a better mousetrap, then the world would beat a path to his door.unhooked the man’s hand from his sleeve. ‘Frankly,’ he said, ‘I don’t give a damn,’ and he strode off towards the set.The artist was left alone. He picked up his paintbrush. His lips moved silently, shaping themselves around the words.Then he said, ‘Hmm. Nice one.’ Banana N’Vectif, cunningest hunter in the great yellow plains of Klatch, held his breath as he tweezered the last piece into place. Rain drummed on the roof of his hut.There. That was it.He’d never done anything like this before, but

Joseph Mallord William Turner Moonlight A Study at Millbank

Joseph Mallord William Turner Moonlight A Study at MillbankJohn Singer Sargent The Daughters of Edward Darley BoitJohn Singer Sargent Paul Helleu Sketching with his WifeRembrandt Saskia As FloraRembrandt Samson And Delilah
understand her,’ he said. ‘Yesterday she was quite normal, today it’s all gone to her head.’
‘Bitches!’ said Gaspode, sympathetically.
‘Oh, I wouldn’t go that far,’ said Victor. ‘She’s just aloof.’
‘Loofs!’ said Gaspode.
‘That’s what intelligence does for your sex life,’ said Don’t-call-me-Mr-Thumpy. ‘Rabbits never have that sort of ‘The duck says, have you done anything about the book?’ said Gaspode.
‘I had a look at it when we broke for lunch,’ said Victor.
There was another irritable quack.
‘The duck says, yes, but what have you done about it?’ said Gaspode.
‘Look, I can’t go all the way to Ankh-Morpork just like that,’ snapped Victor. ‘It takes hours! We film all day as it is!’ trouble. Go, Sow, Thank You Doe.’ ‘You could try offering her a moushe,’ said the cat. ‘Preshent company exchepted, of course,’ it added guiltily, trying to avoid Definitely-Not-Squeak’s glare.‘Being intelligent hasn’t done my social life any favours, either,’ said Mr Thumpy bitterly. ‘A week ago, no prob lems. Now suddenly I want to make conversation, and all they do is sit there wrinklin’ their noses at you. You feel a right idiot.’ There was a strangulated quacking.

Salvador Dali Persistence of Memory

Salvador Dali Persistence of MemorySalvador Dali Metamorphosis of NarcissusSalvador Dali MaelstromSalvador Dali Les trois sphinx de bikiniSalvador Dali Enchanted Beach with Three Fluid Graces
You mean it’s all pretending?’ said Victor.
The trolls exchanged a brief glance, which nevertheless contrived to say: amazing, isn’t it, that things like this apparently rule the world?.
‘Yeah,’ said Rock. ‘That’s it. Nuffin’s real.’
‘We ain’t They needed a way in.
They found it.

It worked quite well, the sixth time. The main problem was the trolls’ enthusiasm for hitting each other, the ground, the air and, quite often, themselves. In the end, Victor just concentrated on trying allowed to kill you,’ said Morraine reassuringly. ‘That’s right,’ said Rock. ‘We wouldn’t go round killin’ you.’ ‘They stops our money if we does things like that,’ said Morraine, morosely. Outside the fault in reality They clustered, peering in with something approaching eyes at the light and warmth. There was a crowd of them by now. There had been a way through, once. To say that they remembered it would be wrong, because they had nothing as sophisticated as memory. They barely had anything as sophisticated as heads. But they did have instincts and emotions.

Camille Pissarro Place du Theatre Francais

Camille Pissarro Place du Theatre FrancaisCamille Pissarro Landscape at ChaponvalSir Henry Raeburn Boy And RabbitJean Fragonard Young Girl ReadingJean Fragonard The Stolen Kiss
well,’ he said cheerfully, ‘Holy Wood, here we come.’
‘Yeah,’ said Silverfish, shaking his head as if to dislodge a disquieting thought. ‘Funny thing, really. I’ve got. this – at least nine-tenths of all the original reality ever created lies outside the multiverse, and since the multiverse by definition includes absolutely everything that is anything, this puts a bit of a strain on things.
Outside the boundaries of the universes lie the raw realities, the couldhave-beens, the might-bes, the neverweres, the wild ideas, all being created and uncreated chaotically like elements in fermenting supernovas. feeling . . . that we’ve been going there . . . all this time.’ Several thousand miles under Silverfish, Great A’Tuin the world turtle sculled dreamily on through the starry night. Reality is a curve. That’s not the problem. The problem is that there isn’t as much as there should be. According to some of the more mystical texts in the stacks of the library of Unseen University – the Discworld’s premier college of wizardry and big dinners, whose collection of books is so massive that it distorts Space and Time –

Henri Matisse Le bonheur de vivre

Henri Matisse Le bonheur de vivreGeorges Seurat The CircusGeorges Seurat Le ChahutWilliam Blake NebuchadnezzarWilliam Blake Jacob's Ladder
spotted Ptaclusp's head peering over the debris, and sent a couple of priests to bring him back. IIb followed, his carefully folded brother under his arm.
'What is the boy doing?' Dios demanded.
'O Dios, he said he was going to flare off the pyramid,' said Ptaclusp.
'How can he do that?'
'O lord, he says he is going to cap it off before the sun sets.'
'Is it possible?' Dios demanded, turning to the architect. IIb hesitated.
'It may be. 'Not our world. Our world is the Valley. Ours is a world of order. Men need order.'
He raised his staff.
'That's my son!' shouted Teppicymon. 'Don't you dare try anything! That's the king!'
The ranks of ancestors swayed, but couldn't break the spell.
'Er, Dios,' said Koomi.,' he said. 'And what will happen? Will we return to the world outside?' 'Well, it depends on whether the dimensional effect ratchets, as it were, and is stable in each state, or if, on the contrary, the pyramid is acting as a piece of rubber under tension-' His voice stuttered to a halt under the intensity of Dios's stare. 'I don't know,' he admitted. 'Back to the world outside,' said Dios Dios turned, his eyebrows raised.

Unknown Artist The Great Wave at Kanagawa by Katsushika Hokusai

Unknown Artist The Great Wave at Kanagawa by Katsushika HokusaiUnknown Artist Heaven and Earth IUnknown Artist Red HorizonUnknown Artist jasper johns Target with Four FacesSalvador Dali Argus
'We're trained for it. Your tendons are knotted up like ping-pong balls on a string,' said Ptraci.
Teppic I could play you something soothing,' said Ptraci. 'I've got as far as "Goblins Picnic" in Book I.'
'I mean, a king shouldn't let his kingdom just vanish like that.'
'All the other girls can do chords and everything,' said Ptraci wistfully, massaging his shoulders. 'But the old king always said he'd rather hear me. He said it used to cheer him up.'
'I mean, it'll be called the Lost Kingdom,' said Teppic drowsily. 'How will I feel then, I ask you?'
'He said he liked my singing, too. Everyone else said it sounded like a flock of vultures who've just found a dead donkey.'gratefully subsided on to one of the boulders that littered the base of the cliff and let the rhythm of her fingers unwind the problems of the night. 'I don't know what to do,' he murmured. 'That feels good.' 'It's not all peeling grapes, being a handmaiden,' said Ptraci. 'The first lesson we learn is, when the master has had a long hard day it is not the best time to suggest the Congress of the Fox and the Persimmon. Who says you have to do anything?' 'I feel responsible.' Teppic shifted position like a cat. 'If you know where there is a dulcimer

Jack Vettriano The Party's Over

Jack Vettriano The Party's OverJack Vettriano The Parlour of TemptationJack Vettriano The Opening GambitJack Vettriano The Model and the DrifterJack Vettriano The Missing Man
, wasp agaric, Achorion purple and Mustick, sir,' said Teppic promptly.
'Why not spime?' snapped Mericet, fast as a snake. Teppic's jaw dropped open. He floundered for a while, trying to avoid the gimlet gaze a few feet away from him.
'S-sir, , 'it would be thiefsign for "Noisy dogs in this house
There was absolute silence for a moment. Then, right by his shoulder, the old assassin's voice said, 'Is the killing rope permitted to all categories?'
'Sir, the rules call for three questions, sir,' Teppic protested.
'Ah. And that is your answer, is it?'
'Sir, no, sir. It was an observation, sir. Sir, the answer you are looking for is that spime isn't a poison, sir,' he managed. 'It is an extremely rare antidote to certain snake venoms, and is obtained-' He settled down a bit, more certain of himself: all those hours idly looking through the old dictionaries had paid off- 'is obtained from the liver of the inflatable mongoose, which-' 'What is the meaning of this sign?' said Mericet. '- is found only in the...' Teppic's voice trailed off. He squinted down at the complex rune on the card in Mericet's hand, and then stared straight past the examiner's ear again. 'I haven't the faintest idea, sir,' he said. Out of the corner of his ear he thought he heard the faintest intake of breath, the tiniest seed of a satisfied grunt. 'But if it were the other way up, sir,' he went on

Francois Boucher Are They Thinking About the Grap

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my crown he's wearing! Look, this is it! And he's saying I did all those—' He paused for a minute, to listen to the latest couplet, and added, 'All right. Maybe I did that. So I set fire to a few cottages. But everyone does that. It's good for the building industry, anyway.'
He put the ghostly crown back on his head.
'Why's he . They were as soft as water, but they were also as powerful as water and now they were rushing over the audience, eroding the levees of veracity, and carrying away the past.
That's us down there, she thought. Everyone knows who we really are, but the things down there aresaying all this about me?' he pleaded.'It's art,' said Nanny. 'It wossname, holds a mirror up to life.'Granny turned slowly in her seat to look at the audience. They were staring at the performance, their faces rapt. The words washed over them in the breathless air. This was real. This was more real even than reality. This was history. It might not be true, but that had nothing to do with it.Granny had never had much time for words. They were so insubstantial. Now she wished that she had found the time. Words were indeed insubstantial

Leonardo da Vinci Leda 1508

Leonardo da Vinci Leda 1508Thomas Kinkade The Light of PeaceThomas Kinkade The Edge of WildernessThomas Kinkade St. Nicholas CircleThomas Kinkade Silent Night
sighed. Tomjon's memory for ill-judged remarks was legendary.
'All right,' he said. 'Just the one, though. Somewhere decent.'
'I promise.' Tomjon adjusted his hat. It had a feather in it.
'By the way,' he said, 'exactly how does one quaff?'
'I think it means you spill most of it,' said Hwel.

If the water of the river Ankh was rather thicker and more full of personality than ordinary river water, so the air in the Mended Drum was more crowded than normal air. It was like dry fog.
Tomjon and watched the pair as they pushed their way through the crowd to the bar, a hundred mouths paused in the act of drinking, cursing or pleading, and ninety-nine brows crinkled with the effort of working out whether the newcomers fell into category A, people to be frightened of or B, people to frighten.
Tomjon walked through the crowd as though it was his property and, with the impetuosity of youthHwel watched it spilling out into the street. The door burst open and a man came through backwards, not actually touching the ground until he hit the wall on the opposite side of the street.An enormous troll, employed by the owners to keep a measure of order in the place, came out dragging two more limp bodies which he deposited on the cobbles, kicking them once or twice in soft places.'I reckon they're roistering in there, don't you?' said Tomjon.'It looks like it,' said Hwel. He shivered. He hated taverns. People always put their drinks down on his head.They scurried in quickly while the troll was holding one unconscious drinker up by one leg and banging his head on the cobbles in a search for concealed valuables.Drinking in the Drum has been likened to diving in a swamp, except that in a swamp the alligators don't pick your pockets first. Two hundred eyes

Diane Romanello Windsong

Diane Romanello WindsongDiego Rivera The Flower SellerGustav Klimt The MusicGustav Klimt The FriendsGustav Klimt The Beethoven Frieze
and Five-leaved False Mandrake, sovereign against fluxes of the bladder. Ah, and here's Old Man's Frogbit. That's for constipation.'
The Fool stood up sheepishly, in a carillon of jingles. To Magrat it was as if the meadow, hitherto supporting nothing more hazardous than clouds of pale blue butterflies and a few self-employed bumblebees, had sprouted Uncommon sense, which, despite Granny Weatherwax's general belief that Magrat was several sticks short of a bundle, she still had in sufficiency, pointed out that few demons tinkled pathetically and appeared to be quite so breathless.
'Hallo,' she said.
The Fool's mind was also working hard. He was beginning to panic.a large red-and-yellow demon.It was opening and shutting its mouth. It had three menacing horns.An urgent voice at the back of her mind said: You should run away now, like a timid gazelle; this is the accepted action in these circumstances.Common sense intervened. In her most optimistic moments Magrat would not have compared herself to a gazelle, timid or otherwise. Besides, it added, the basic snag about running away like a timid gazelle was that in all probability she would easily outdistance him.'Er,' said the apparition.

Henri Rousseau Exotic Landscape

Henri Rousseau Exotic LandscapeHenri Rousseau Exotic Landscape 1908Henri Rousseau EveHenri Rousseau Carnival EveningHenri Rousseau Boy on the Rocks
Granny nodded. She thoroughly approved of such sentiments so long as there was, of course, no suggestion that they applied to her.
She drummed her fingers on Magrat's tablecloth.
'Right,' she of the theatre that Granny had not yet grasped.
She was currently bouncing up and down on her stool with rage.
'He's killed him,' she hissed. 'Why isn't anyone doing anything about it? He's killed him! And right up there in front of everyone!'
Magrat held on desperately to her colleague's arm as she struggled to get to her feet.said. 'And why not? Go and tell Gytha to wrap the baby up well. It's a long time since I heard a theatre played properly.'Magrat was entranced, as usual. The theatre was no more than some lengths of painted sacking, a plank stage laid over a few barrels, and half a dozen benches set out in the village square. But at the same time it had also managed to become The Castle, Another Part of the Castle, The Same Part A Little Later, The Battlefield and now it was A Road Outside the City. The afternoon would have been perfect if it wasn't for Granny Weatherwax.After several piercing glares at the three-man orchestra to see if she could work out which instrument the theatre was, the old witch had finally paid attention to the stage, and it was beginning to become apparent to Magrat that there were certain fundamental aspects

Thomas Kinkade The Light of Peace

Thomas Kinkade The Light of PeaceThomas Kinkade The Edge of WildernessThomas Kinkade St. Nicholas Circle
yes, all right, you needn't bother with my bit,' snapped Mort irritably.
'Pardon me for living, I'm sure.'
NO-ONE GETS PARDONED FOR LIVING.
'And don't talk like that to me, thank you. It doesn't frighten me,' she said. She glanced down at the book, where the moving line of writing was calling her a liar.
Tell me seasonings of vengeance and cruelty and distaste, and with a terrible certainty he knew that this was the last chance and Mort would send him back into Time and hunt him down and take him and deliver him bodily into the dark Dungeon Dimensions where creatures of horror would dot dot dot dot dot",' she finished. 'It's just dots for half a page.'
That's because the book daren't even mention them,' whispered Albert. He tried to shut his eyes but the pictures in the darkness behind his eyelids were so vivid that he opened how, wizard,' said Mort.'My magic's all I've got left!' wailed Albert.'You don't need it, you old miser.''You don't frighten me, boy —'LOOK INTO MY FACE AND TELL ME THAT.Mort snapped his fingers imperiously. Ysabell bent her head over the book again.' "Albert looked into the blue glow of those eyes and the last of his defiance drained away",' she read, ' "for he saw not just Death but Death with all the human

Pierre Auguste Renoir After The Bath 1888

Pierre Auguste Renoir After The Bath 1888Thomas Kinkade The old fishing holeThomas Kinkade The Light of Freedom
,' he said.
'I'm afraid I wasn't paying much attention.'
'It doesn't matter at all.'some young couples met, say, at a village dance, and hit it off, and went out together for a year or two, had a few rows, made up, got married and didn't kill themselves at all.
He became aware that the litany of star-crossed love had wound down.
'Oh,' he said, weakly. 'Doesn't reading all those books?' he said.
Ysabell looked down, and twiddled was several feet deep and had quite a solid crust on it. You could walk across it if you were careful. If you weren't, and sank knee deep in the concentrated gyppo, then the sound your boot made as it came out, green and mean, you'd think there'd be a reign of terror or something, but apparently history needs this kind of person sometimes and the princess would just be another monarch. I mean, not bad, quite good really, but just not right and now it's not going to happen and history is flapping around loose and it's all my fault.'

Claude Monet Water Lilies

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seemed to go on for a long time. Then the abbot climbed back again.
'You don't know how long I've been looking forward to that,' he said.
There was a village in a lower valley a few miles from the temple, which acted as a sort of service industry. From the air it was a random scattering of small but extremely well-soundproofed huts.
'AnywhereThe container was silver, decorated with small crowns. There was hardly any sand left.
Mort, feeling that the night had thrown everything at him and couldn't get any worse, turned it around carefully to get a glimpse of the name. . . .

,' he said. The abbot shrugged.'One can always hope,' he said. 'I get a nine-month break, anyway. The scenery isn't much, but at least it's in the warm.''Goodbye, then,' said Mort. 'I've got to rush.''Au revoir,' said the abbot, sadly, and turned away.The fires of the Hub Lights were still casting their flickering illumination across the landscape. Mort sighed, and reached for the third glass.

Vincent van Gogh Poppies 1886

Vincent van Gogh Poppies 1886Vincent van Gogh field of poppiesHenri Matisse Goldfish
. He looked up as Mort came in, keeping one calcareous finger marking his place, and grinned. There wasn't much of an alternative.
AH, he said, and then paused. Then he scratched his chin, with a noise like a fingernail being pulled across a comb.
WHO moved.
IS IT BY ANY CHANCE POSSIBLE THAT YOU FAIL TO UNDERSTAND ME?
'Not fully, sir,' said Mort.
DUNG, BOY. DUNG. ALBERT HAS A COMPOSTTHERE'S A WHEELBARROW SOMEWHERE ON THE PREMISES. GET ON WITH IT.
Mort nodded mournfully. 'Yes, sir. I see, sir. Sir?'
YES?ARE YOU, BOY?'Mort, sir,' said Mort. 'Your apprentice. You remember?'Death stared at him for some time. Then the pinpoint blue eyes turned back at the book.OH YES, he said, MORT. WELL, BOY, DO YOU SINCERELY WISH TO LEARN THE UTTERMOST SECRETS OF TIME AND SPACE?'Yes, sir. I think so, sir.'GOOD. THE STABLES ARE AROUND THE BACK. THE SHOVEL HANGS JUST INSIDE THE DOOR.He looked down. He looked up. Mort hadn't

Thomas Kinkade Victorian Autumn

Thomas Kinkade Victorian AutumnThomas Kinkade The Night Before ChristmasThomas Kinkade The Good Life
Trestle thought for a bit.
"No, I'm pretty sure he said the back of your own head," he said. "I think he said he could prove it."
They Then Trestle said: "I just hope he's all right. He's over the fever but he just doesn't seem to want to wake up."
A couple of servants came in with a bowl of water and fresh towels. One of them carried a rather tatty broomstick. As they began to change the sweat-soaked sheets under the boy the two wizards left, still discussing the vast vistas of unknowingness that Simon's genius had revealed considered this in silence. Finally Cutangle spoke, very slowly and carefully. "I look at it all like this," he said. "Before I heard him talk, I was like everyone else. You know But now," he brightened up, "while I'm still confused and uncertain it's on a much higher plane, d'you see, and at least I know I'm bewildered about the really fundamental and important facts of the universe." Trestle nodded. "I hadn't looked at it like that," he said, "but you're absolutely right. He's really pushed back the boundaries of ignorance. There's so much about the universe we don't know." They both savoured the strange warm glow of being much more ignorant than ordinary people, who were ignorant of only ordinary things.

Jean Francois Millet Spring

Jean Francois Millet SpringJean Francois Millet Man with a hoeLorenzo Lotto Venus and Cupid
Can't stand the dark and fug myself," said Hilta Goatfounder, "but the customers expect it. You know how it is."
"Yes," Esk nodded sagely. "Headology."
Hilts, a small fat woman wearing an enormous hat with fruit on it, glanced from her to Granny and grinned.
"That's the way of it," she agreed. "Will you take some tea?"
They sat on bales of unknown herbs in the private corner made by the stall between the angled walls of the houses, and drank something fragrant and green out of surprisingly delicate cups. Unlike Granny, who dressed like a very respectable raven, Hilts Goatfounder was all lace and shawls and colours and earrings and so many bangles that a mere movement of her arms sounded like a percussion section falling off a cliff. But Esk could see the a good deal bigger and poorer if it wasn't for Madame Goatfounder's Pennyroyal Preventives. I know who comes into my shop, I do. I remember who buys buckeroo drops and ShoNuff bad. And how is it up in your village with the funny name?"
"Bad Ass," said Esk helpfully. She picked a small clay pot off the counter and sniffed at its contents.
"It is well enough," conceded Granny. "The handmaidens of nature are ever in demandlikeness. It was hard to describe. You couldn't imagine them curtseying to anyone. "So," said Granny, "how The other witch shrugged, causing the drummers to lose their grip again, just when they had nearly climbed back up. "Like the hurried lover, it comes and goe-" she began, and stopped at Granny's meaningful glance at Esk. "Not bad, not bad," she amended hurriedly. "The council have tried to run me out once or twice, you know, but they all have wives and somehow it never quite happens. They say I'm not the right sort, but I say there'd be many a family in this town

Piet Mondrian Composition with Yellow Blue and Red

Piet Mondrian Composition with Yellow Blue and RedPiet Mondrian Composition with Red YellowPiet Mondrian Composition with Red Yellow and Blue
fact there wasn't any ship going anywhere near the Agatean Empire, but that was an academic point because Twoflower simply counted gold pieces into the hand of the first captain with a halfway clean ship until the man suddenly saw the merits of changing his plans.
,' said Twoflower, handing him the bag. 'I know it's expensive, setting for the first time.'
Twoflower had never fully understood the gulf in the exchange rate. The bag could quite easily set Cohen up with a small kingdom.
'I'll hand it over first chance I get,' he said, and to his own surprise realised that he meant it.
'Good. I've thought about something to give you, too.'
'Oh, there's no —'Rincewind waited on the quayside until Twoflower had finished paying the man about forty times more than his ship was worth.'That's settled, then,' said Twoflower. 'He'll drop me at the Brown Islands and I can easily get a ship from there.''Great,' said Rincewind.Twoflower looked thoughtful for a moment. Then he opened the Luggage and pulled out a bag of gold.'Have you seen Cohen and Bethan?' he said.'I think they went off to get married,' said Rincewind. 'I heard Bethan say it was now or never.''Well, when you see them give them this

Fabian Perez Untitled II

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Twoflower looked. She was holding a – well, it was a little mountain chalet, but with seashells stuck all over it, and then the perpetrator had written 'A Special Souvenir' in pokerwork on the roof (which, of course, opened so that cigarettes could be kept in it, and played a tinny little tune).
'Have you ever seen anything like it?' she said.
him.
'This?' said Bethan. 'I wouldn't buy this if you threw in a hatful of rubies and —'
'I'll buy it. How much?' said Twoflower urgently, reaching into his pockets. His face fell.
'Actually, I haven't got any money,' he said. 'It's in my Luggage, but I —'Twoflower shook his head. His mouth dropped open.'Are you all right?' said Bethan.'I think it's the most beautiful thing I've ever seen,' he said.There was a whirring noise overhead. They looked up.A big black globe had lowered itself from the darkness of the ceiling. Little red lights flashed on and off on it, and as they stared it spun around and looked at them with a big glass eye. It was menacing, that eye. It seemed to suggest very emphatically that it was watching something distasteful.'Hallo?' said Twoflower.A head appeared over the edge of the counter. It looked angry.'I hope you were intending to pay for that,' it said nastily. Its expression suggested that it expected Rincewind to say yes, and that it wouldn't believe

Mark Rothko Untitled 1960

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There was silence.
'Interfere with the affairs of another order?' said Wert.
'Of course not,' said Trymon. 'I merely suggest that we could offer . . . advice. But let us discuss this later . . .'
The Read the Octavo. The Spells will make everything all right.'
'There could be something in that,' said Trymon. 'My, er, late predecessor made quite study of the Octavo.'
'We all have,' said Panter, sharply, 'but what's the use? The Eight Spells have to work together. Oh, I agree, if all else fails maybe we should risk it, but the Eight have to be said together or not at all – and one of them is inside this Rincewind's head.'
'And we cannot find him,' said Trymon. That is the case, isn't it? I'm sure we've wizards had never heard of the words 'power base', otherwise Trymon would never have been able to get away with all this. But the plain fact was that helping others to achieve power, even to strengthen your own hand, was quite alien to them. As far as they were concerned, every wizard stood alone. Never mind about hostile paranormal entities, an ambitious wizard had quite enough to do fighting his enemies in his own Order.'I think we should now consider the matter of Rincewind,' said Trymon.'And the star,' said Wert. 'People are noticing, you know.''Yes, they say we should be doing something,' said Lumuel Panter, of the Order of Midnight. 'What, I should like to know?''Oh, that's easy,' said Wert. They say we should read the Octavo. That's what they always say. Crops bad? Read the Octavo. Cows ill?

Daniel Ridgway Knight On the Way to Market

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about Force Three,' and any loose talk about a beloved having a face that launched a thousand ships would have to be backed by evidence that the object of desire did indeed look like a bottle of champagne.
Quimby was out for the antipodes soon learned that the reason why distant ships sometimes looked as though they were disappearing over the edge of the world was that they were disappearing over the edge of the world.
But there was still a limit even to Galder's vision in the mist-swirled, dust-filled air. He looked up. Looming high over the University was the grim and ancient Tower of eventually killed by a disgruntled poet during an experiment conducted in the palace grounds to prove the disputed accuracy of the proverb The pen is mightier than the sword,' and in his memory it was amended to include the phrase 'only if the sword is very small and the pen is very sharp.'So. Approximately sixty-seven, maybe sixty-eight per cent, of the city slept. Not that the other citizens creeping about on their generally unlawful occasions noticed the pale tide streaming through the streets. Only the wizards, used to seeing the invisible, watched it foam across the distant fields.The Disc, being flat, has no real horizon. Any adventurous sailors who got funny ideas from staring at eggs and oranges for too long and set

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
The loremaster shut his eyes and swallowed hard.
"I thought that my Lord would now be residing fully in the Dread Land," he managed.
"I am a wizard," said Greicha. "Death Himself must claim a wizard. And, aha, He doesn't appear to be in the soul out of the air and rolled it up until it was a point of painful light, and then He swallowed it.
Then He clapped spurs to his steed and it sprang into the air, sparks corruscating from its hooves.
"Lord Greicha!" whispered the old Loremaster, as the universe flickered around him.
"That was a mean trick," came the wizard's voice, a mere speck of sound disappearing into the infinite black dimensions.neighbourhood..."SHAL WE GO? asked Death.He was on a white horse, a horse of flesh and blood but red of eye and fiery of nostril, and He stretched out a bony hand and took Greicha's