Mark Spain Flamenco II

Mark Spain Flamenco IIMark Spain Flamenco IMark Spain Eternal FlameMark Spain EncoreMark Spain Dance I
it work?'
'Oh, yes,' said Leonard. He sighed. 'If you can find one man with the strength of ten men who can turn the handle at about one thousand revolutions a minute.'
The Patrician relaxed,. 'And dwarfs. Clever men and dwarfs who tinker with things.'
'I am so very sorry.'
'They never think.'
'Indeed.'
Lord Vetinari leaned back and stared at the skylight.
'They do things like open the Three Jolly Luck Take-Away Fish Bar in a way which only then drew gentle attention to the foregoing moment of tension.'Now there is in this city,' he said, 'a man with a gonne. He has used it successfully once, and almost succeeded a second time. Could anyone have invented the gonne?''No,' said Leonard. 'I am a genius.' He said it quite simply. It was a statement of fact.'Understood. But once a gonne has been invented, Leonard, how much of a genius need someone be to make the second one?''The rifling technique requires considerable finesse, and the cocking mechanism that slides the bullette assembly is finely balanced, and of course the end of the barrel must be very . . .' Leonard saw the Patrician's expression, and shrugged. 'He must be a clever man,' he said.'This city is full of clever men,' said the Patrician

Claude Monet Blue Water Lilies

Claude Monet Blue Water LiliesClaude Monet Banks of the SeineClaude Monet Bank of the Seine Vetheuil
Silence followed, for about five seconds. Then Bundo emerged, very fast, and didn't stop running until he reached the docks, where a boat Vimes, in cheerful tones.
'And you haven't changed out of your uniform!'
Vimes looked down, and then up again.
'That's right!' he said brightly.
'The guests will be here any minute. Go on up to your room. There's a tub drawn and Willikins has laid out a suit for you. Get along with you . . .'
'Jolly good!'was leaving on the tide. He ran up the gangplank just before it was pulled up, and became a seaman, and died three years later when an armadillo fell on his head in a far-off country, and in all that time never said what he'd seen. But he did scream a bit whenever he saw a dog.Angua emerged a few seconds later, and trotted away. Lady Sybil Ramkin opened the door and sniffed the night air.'Samuel Vimes! You're drunk!''Not yet! But I hope to be!' said

Henri Matisse Woman with a Hat

Henri Matisse Woman with a HatHenri Matisse The WindowHenri Matisse The Green LineHenri Matisse Red FishHenri Matisse Pink Nude
furniture and leaving corrosive holes in the carpet, the floor and the cellar ceiling underneath it, they'd be shoved out to fend for themselves.
'We rescued him from a blacksmith in Easy Street,' said Lady Ramkin. 'I said, "My good man, you can use a forge like everyoneelse". Poor little thing.'
'Chubby,' said Vimes. 'Got a light?'
'He's got a blue collar,' said Lady Ramkin.
'Right, yes.'For some reason Lady Sybil, keen of eye in every other respect, persisted in thinking of Corporal Nobbs as a cheeky, lovable rascal. It had always puzzled Sam Vimes. It must be the attraction of opposites. The Ram-kins were more highly bred than a hilltop bakery, whereas Corporal Nobbs had been disqualified from the human race for shoving.
As he walked down the street in his old leather and 'He'll follow you like a lamb if he thinks you've got a charcoal biscuit.''Right.' Vimes patted his pockets.'They're a little bit over-excited in this heat.'Vimes reached down into a pen of hatchlings and picked up a small one, which flapped its stubby wings excitedly. It spurted a brief jet of blue flame. Vimes inhaled quickly.'Sam, I really wish you wouldn't do that.''Sorry.''So if you could get young Carrot and that nice Corporal Nobbs to keep an eye out for—''No problem.'

Cao Yong GARDEN SPLENDOR

Cao Yong GARDEN SPLENDORCao Yong GARDEN BEAUTIESCao Yong FRIENDS
boots scraped along the hard-packed mud of the smithy’s yard.
“I’ll leave the magic running, won’t be a mo,” she said. Ignoring the dwarfs bleat for help, she hopped off the stick and disappeared through the back door.
The elves With your eyes open.”
“I’m looking for elves?” said Casanunda, as the stick rose into the moonlight.
“Could be. It wasn’t Esme, and the only other one ever flying around here is Mr. Ixolite the banshee, and he’s very good about slipping us a note under the door when he’s going to be about. For air traffic control, see?”hadn’t been there, at least. Too much iron. She pulled a crowbar from the toolbench and hurried out again.“You can hold this,” she said to Casanunda. She hesitated. “Can’t have too much luck, can we?” she said, and scurried back into the forge. This time she was out again much faster, slipping something into her pocket.“Ready?” she said.‘ “No.” l Although this is a phallusy. 245Terry Pratchett“Then let’s go. And keep a look out.

Guido Reni St Jerome

Guido Reni St JeromeGuido Reni Joseph and Potiphars' WifeFrancois Boucher Shepherd and Shepherdess Reposing
Nanny Ogg and Granny Weatherwax moved through said crowd. In deference to this being a festive occasion, Nanny Ogg had see over the head of a small emperor.
“Can’t see Magrat around,” she said. “There’s Verence talking to some other kings, but can’t see our Magrat at all. Our Shawn said Millie Chillum said she was just a bag of nerves this morning.”
“All these high-bom folks,” said Granny, looking around at the crowned heads. “I feel like a fish out of water.”
*Shawn Ogg.f
tExcept when he was lying down.
exchanged her normal black pointy hat for one the same shape but in red, with wax cherries on it.“All the hort mond are here,” Nanny observed, taking a drink off a passing tray. “Even some wizards from Ankh-Morpork, our Shawn said. One of them said I had a fine body, he said. Been tryin’ to remember all morning who that could have been.”“Spoilled for choice,” said Granny, but it was automatic nastiness, with no real heart to it. It worried Nanny Ogg. Her friend seemed preoccupied.“There’s some gentry we don’t want to see here,” said Granny. “I won’t be happy until all this is over.”Nanny Ogg craned to try and

Pop art brown in gold

Pop art brown in goldPop art billie on blackPop art art on firePop art another lazy afternoon
are in my kingdom, woman,” said the Queen. “You do not come or go without the leave of me. You will kneel!”
“I come and go without the leave of anyone,” said Granny Weatherwax. “Never done it before, ain’t starting now.”, thick with grease. And although their faces were indeed the most beautiful Diamanda had ever seen, it was beginning to creep over her that there was something subtly wrong, some quirk of expression that did not quite fit.
“The only reason we’re still alive now is that we’re more fun alive than dead,” said Granny’s voice behind her.
“You know you shouldn’t listen to the crabbed old woman,” said the Queen. “What can she offer?”
“More than snow in summertime,” said Granny. “Look at their eyes. Look at their eyes.”
The Queen dismounted.She put a hand on Diamanda’s shoulder.“These are your elves,” she said. “Beautiful, ain’t they?”The warriors must have been more than two meters tall. They did not wear clothes so much as items strung together—scraps of fur, bronze plates, strings of brightly colored feathers. Blue and green tattoos covered most of their exposed skin. Several of them held drawn bows, the tips of their arrows following Granny’s every move.Their hair massed around their heads like a halo

Nicolas De Stael Jazz Musicians

Nicolas De Stael Jazz MusiciansNicolas De Stael Fiesole 1953Nicolas De Stael Cap Gris-Nez
way to Sto Helit now. Coaches every
Wednesday, reg’lar. Bursaaar! Oh, give him a dried frog
pill, someone ... Mr. Stibbons, if you could happen to find
*The study of invisible writings was a new discipline made available by
the discovery of the bi-directional nature of Library-Space. The thaumic
mathematics are complex, but boil down to the fact that all books, every-
where, affect and arrange some tickets. There. All sorted out, right?”
Magrat woke up.
And knew she wasn’t a witch anymore. The feeling just crept over her, as part of the normal stock-taking that any body automatically does in the first seconds of emergence from the pit of dreams: arms: 2, legs: 2, existential dread:
58%, randomized guilt: 94%, witchcraft level: 00.00.
The point was, she couldn’t remember ever being any-thing else. She’d always been a witch. Magrat Garlick, third witch, that all other books. This is obvious: books inspire other bookswritten in the future, and cite books written in the past. But the GeneralTheory+ of L-Space suggests that, in that case, the contents of books as‘yet unwritten can be deduced from books now in existence.tThere’s a Special Theory as well, but no one bothers with it much because it’sself-evidently a load of marsh gas.41Terry Pratchettyourself in this universe for five minutes, go

Mark Spain Castilla

Mark Spain CastillaMark Spain CarmenMark Spain Burning Desire
you, anything, and the payment was that you
11
Terry Pratchett
could shoe anything. There had always been a smith in Lancre, and everyone knew the smith in Lancre was a very powerful The air sizzled and was filled with an angry buzzing.
Then, in the center of the field, rustling as it bent, the young corn lay down.
In a circle.
And in the sky the bees swarmed and teemed, buzzing angrily.
It was a few weeks to midsummer. The kingdom of Lancre dozed in the heatsmith indeed.It was an ancient bargain, and it had something to do with iron.The wind slackened. Now it was a whisper around the hori-zons, as the sun rose.This was the octarine grass country. Good growing country, especially for corn.And here was a field of it, waving gently between the hedges. Not a big field. Not a remarkable one, really It was just a field with corn in it, except of course during the win-ter, when there were just pigeons and crows in it.The wind dropped.The corn still waved. They weren’t the normal swells of the wind. They spread out from the center of the field like ripples from a dropped stone.

Mark Rothko Blue Green and Brown 1951

Mark Rothko Blue Green and Brown 1951Mark Rothko Blue Green and BrownAlfred Gockel Stroking the Keys
Preparations for the inauguration of the Cenobiarch Prophet began many hours before the dawn. Firstly, and not according to ancient tradition, there was a very careful search of the temple by Deacon Cusp and some of his colleagues. There at the sudden linkage of real life into the chain of thought, and reached instinctively for his dagger.
"Oh," he said.
Lu-Tze nodded and smiled and indicated with his broom that Deacon Cusp was standing on a patch of floor that he, Lu-Tze, wished to sweep.
"Hello, you ghastly little yellow fool," said Deacon Cusp.was a prowling for tripwires and a poking of odd corners for hidden archers. Although it was against the thread, Deacon Cusp had his head screwed on. He also sent a few squads into the town to round up the usual suspects. The Quisition always found it advisable to leave a few suspects at large. Then you knew where to find them when you needed them.After that a dozen lesser priests arrived to shrive the premises and drive out all afreets, djinns, and devils. Deacon Cusp watched them without comment. He'd never had any personal dealings with supernatural entities, but he knew what a well-placed arrow would do to an unexpecting stomach.Someone tapped him on the rib-cage. He gasped

Piet Mondrian Composition with Red Blue Yellow 2

Piet Mondrian Composition with Red Blue Yellow 2Vincent van Gogh Field with PoppiesHenri Matisse Blue Nude IIRobert Duval Emotional Dance
too. Brave man. He says gods like to see an atheist around. Gives them something to aim at."
Brutha unrolled a bit more of the scroll. Five minutes ago he would have admitted that he couldn't read. Now the best efforts of the inquisitors couldn't have forced it out of him. He held it up in what he hoped was a familiar fashion.
"Where is he now?" he said.
"Well, someone said they saw a pair of sandals with smoke coming out just outside his house a year or two back," said Didactylos. "He might have, you know, pushed his luck."
"I think," said Brutha, "that I'd better be going. I'm sorry to have intruded on your time."
"Bring it back "But the tavern is outside."
"Yes."
"Then he must have flown over the wall, do you think?"
"I'm sure it was him, master."when you've finished with it," said Didactylos."Is that how people read in Omnia?" said Urn."What?""Upside down."Brutha picked up the tortoise, glared at Urn, and strode as haughtily as possible out of the Library."Hmm," said Didactylos. He drummed his fingers on the tables."It was him I saw in the tavern last night," said Urn. "I'm sure, master.""But the Omnians are staying here in the palace.""That's right, master."
"Then . . . maybe he came later. Maybe he hadn't gone

Leonardo da Vinci da Vinci Self Portrait

Leonardo da Vinci da Vinci Self PortraitRembrandt The Return of the Prodigal SonRembrandt rembrandt nightwatch painting
Men should not travel, Brutha. At the center there is truth. As you travel, so error creeps in."
"Yes, Lord Vorbis."
Vorbis sighed.
"In Ossory's day we sailed alone in boats made of hides, and went where the winds of the God took us. That's how a holy man should travel."
A tiny spark"Forward," said Vorbis. "I can see that our friend Brutha is agog to get on board."
The horse trotted on.
"Where are we? Who's that? It's as hot as hell in here and, believe me, I know what I'm talking about."
"I can't talk now!" hissed Brutha.
"This cabbage stinks like a swamp! Let there be lettuce! Let there be slices of melon!" of defiance in Brutha declared that it, personally, would risk a little corruption for the sake of traveling with two decks between its feet and the waves."I heard that Ossory once sailed to the island of Erebos on a millstone," he ventured by way of conversation."Nothing is impossible for the strong in faith," said Vorbis."Try striking a match on jelly, mister."Brutha stiffened. It was impossible that Vorbis could have failed to hear the voice.The Voice of the Turtle was heard in the land."Who's this bugger?"

Andy Warhol Banana

Andy Warhol BananaUnknown Artist The Great Wave off Kanagawa by Katsushika HokusaiUnknown Artist The Great Wave of Kanagawa by Katsushika Hokusai
, instead of falling, it steadied itself in the air, spun in its own length and sped back again trailing octarine sparks and making athat had appeared a few feet away.
It was, of course, Death.
He turned his glowing eyesockets towards Rincewind and said, in a voice like the collapse of undersea chasms, GOOD AFTERNOON.
He turned away as if he had completed all necessary business for the time noise like a buzzsaw.Rincewind pushed the stunned boy behind him, threw away the ravaged sock and whipped his hat off, flailing wildly as the staff bored towards him. It caught him on the side of the head, delivering a shock that almost welded his teeth together and toppled him like a thin and ragged tree.The staff turned again in mid-air, glowing red-hot now, and swept back for another and quite definitely final run.Rincewind struggled up on his elbows and watched in horrified fascination as it swooped through the chilly air which, for some reason he didn't understand, seemed to be full of snowflakes.And became tinged with purple, blotched with blue. Time slowed and ground to a halt like an underwound phonograph.Rincewind looked up at the tall black figure

Thomas Moran Moonlit Seascape

Thomas Moran Moonlit SeascapeThomas Moran Grand Canyon of the YellowstoneThomas Moran Cresheim Glen, Wissahickon, Autumn
the weak current, the focus of several mysterious little swirls that sped across the surface of the water.
The ripples converged.
The Luggage jerked. Its lid flew open. It shot under the surface with a brief, despairing creak.
The The trio stared out through a hole in the palace walls.
'Very impressive,' said Conina critically. 'Your wizards are more powerful than I thought.'
'Not my wizards,' said Rincewind. 'I don't know whose wizards they are. I don't like it. All the wizards I knew couldn't stick one brick on another.'
'I don't like the idea of wizards ruling everybody,' said Nijel. 'Of course, as a hero I am philosophically against the whole idea of wizardry in any casechocolate-coloured waters of the Tsort rolled back again. They were getting good at it. And the tower of sourcery loomed over Al Khali like a vast and beautiful fungus, the kind that appear in books with little skull-and-crossbones symbols beside them.The Seriph's guard had fought back, but there were now quite a lot of bewildered frogs and newts around the base of the tower, and they were the fortunate ones. They still had arms and legs, of a sort, and most of their essential organs were still on the inside. The city was under the rule of sourcery ... martial lore.Some of the buildings nearest the base of the tower were already turning into the bright white marble that the wizards obviously preferred.

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 Storms
made him yelp, but as he reached behind him he found it was only one of the chopping blocks.
His hand in him cried out against the destruction of so much power, power that perhaps even now could be used, used by him...
And the staff swung around so that its axis was pointing directly at him.
And several corridors away, the Librarian stood braced with his back against the Library door, watching the blue and white flashes that flickered across the floor. He heard the distant snap of raw energy, and a sound that started low and ended up in zones of pitch that groped desperately across its scarred surface and, against all hope, found a cleaver buried in the wood. In an instinctive gesture as ancient as mankind, Spelter's fingers closed around its handle.He was out of breath and out of patience and out of space and time and also scared, very nearly, out of his mind.So when the staff hovered in front of him he wrenched the chopper up and around with all the strength he could muster ...And hesitated. All that was wizardly

Gustav Klimt Fruit Trees

Gustav Klimt Fruit TreesGustav Klimt Death and LifeGustav Klimt Beethoven Frieze
destiny, and there will be no magic greater than his.'
NO. And the Tap, tap, tap went Ipslore's fingers on the metal of the staff.
'Then they shall have their chance,' he said, 'when hell freezes over.'
NO. I AM NOT ALLOWED TO ENLIGHTEN YOU, EVEN BY DEFAULT, ABOUT CURRENT TEMPERATURES IN THE NEXT WORLD.strange thing about the quiet way Death spoke the word was this: it was louder than the roaring of the storm. It jerked Ipslore back to momentary sanity.Ipslore rocked back and forth uncertainly. 'What?' he said.I SAID NO. NOTHING IS FINAL. NOTHING IS ABSOLUTE. EXCEPT ME, OF COURSE. SUCH TINKERING WITH DESTINY COULD MEAN THE DOWNFALL OF THE WORLD. THERE MUST BE A CHANCE, HOWEVER SMALL. THE LAWYERS OF FATE DEMAND A LOOPHOLE IN EVERY PROPHECY.Ipslore stared at Death's implacable face.'I must give them a chance?'YES.

Frida Kahlo Girl with Death Mask

Frida Kahlo Girl with Death MaskDouglas Hofmann midnight blueJose Royo Primavera
REMEMBER WHEN ALL THIS WAS STARS.
What was it? Oh, yes . . .
He snapped his fingers. Fields appeared, following the gentle curves of the land.
‘Golden,’ said Albert. ‘That’s nice. I’ve always thought we could do with a bit more colour around
Death AWAY FROM HERE, IS WHAT I MEAN.
‘Ah. What you mean is, you want to be alone,’ said Albert. I AM ALWAYS ALONE. BUT JUST NOW I WANT TO BE ALONE BY MYSELF.
‘Right. I’ll just go and, uh, do some little jobs back at the house, then,’ said Albert.
YOU DO THAT.
Death stood alone, watching the wheat shook his head. It wasn’t quite right yet.Then he realised what it was. The lifetimers, the great room filled with the roar of disappearing lives, was efficient and necessary; you needed something like that for good order. But . . .He snapped his fingers again and a breeze sprang up. The cornfields moved, billow after billow unfolding across the slopes.ALBERT?‘Yes, master?’HAVE YOU NOT GOT SOMETHING TO DO? SOME LITTLE JOB?‘I don’t think so,’ said Albert.

Claude Monet The Road Bridge at Argenteuil

Claude Monet The Road Bridge at ArgenteuilClaude Monet The Bridge at ArgenteuilClaude Monet Spring 1880
now where?’ said Doreen.
A couple of floor tiles buckled upwards. A heavy grey vapour started to pour out.
‘It must be , smashed it against a pillar until its wheels dropped off. Windle watched the Fresh Start Club head up the nearest passage, pushing a bargain assortment of wizardry.
‘Well, well, well,’ he said.’As simple as that. That’s all we had to do. Hardly any drama at all.’
He went to move forward, and stopped.
Pink tubes were forcing their way through the floor and were already coiled tightly around his legs. More floor tiles leapt into the air. The stairways shattered, revealing the dark, serrated and above all ‘It is traditional, when loading wire trolleys, to put the most fragile items at the bottom.
somewhere at the end of a passage,’ said Ludmilla. ‘Come on.’Arthur looked down at the mists coiling around his feet. ‘I wonder how you can do that?’ he said. ‘It’s amazingly difficult to get stuff that does that. We tried it, you know, to make our crypt more . . . more cryptic, but it just smokes up the place and sets fire to the curtains -‘ ‘Come on, Artor. We are going.’‘You don’t think we’ve done too much damage, do you? Perhaps we should leave a note -‘ ‘Yeah, I could write something on the wall if you like,’ said Reg. He picked up a struggling worker trolley by its handle and, with some satisfaction

Amedeo Modigliani the Reclining Nude

Amedeo Modigliani the Reclining NudeAlphonse Maria Mucha SummerAlphonse Maria Mucha Spring
There seemed to be a lot of excitement around at the moment. It was certainly interesting, working with all these down as: glop.
He turned around, saw the biggest of the compost heaps pulsating in the dark, and said, ‘Look what I brought you for your tea!’ And then he saw that it was moving.
‘Some places, too . . .’ said Mrs Cake.
‘But why should it build up?’ said Windle.
wizards. Teamwork, that’s what it was. They looked after the cosmic balance, the universal harmonies and the dimensional equilibriums, and he saw to it that the aphids stayed off the roses.There was a metallic tinkle. He peered over the top of the heap of weeds.‘Another one?’A gleaming metal wire basket on little wheels sat on the path. Maybe the wizards had bought it for him? The first one was quite useful, although it was a little bit hard to steer; the little wheels seemed to want to go in different directions. There was probably a knack. Well, this one would be handy for carrying seed trays in. He pushed the second trolley aside and heard, behind him, a sound which, if it had to be written down, and if he could write, he would probably have written

Leonardo da Vinci St John the Baptist

Leonardo da Vinci St John the BaptistLeonardo da Vinci Madonna with YarnwinderLeonardo da Vinci Madonna Litta
circular nature of Windle Poons’ death didn’t bother him much. After all, trees looked dead in the winter, burst forth of existence, but Modo privately thought that they just wanted to get as far away from the compost as possible.
The heaps were in for a treat tonight. The weeds were really doing well. He’d never known plants to grow so fast and luxuriantly. It must be all the compost, Modo thought.
By the time the wizards reached the palace it was in uproar. Pieces of furniture again every spring. Dried up old seeds went in the ground, fresh young plants sprang up. Practically nothing ever died for long. Take compost, for example. Modo believed in compost with the same passion that other people believed in gods. His compost heaps heaved and fermented and glowed faintly in the dark, perhaps because of the mysterious and possibly illegal ingredients Modo fed them, although nothing had ever been pried and, anyway, no-one was about to dig into one to see what was in it. All dead stuff, but somehow alive. And it certainly grew roses. The Senior Wrangler had explained to Modo that his roses grew so big because it was a miracle

Andy Warhol Superman

Andy Warhol SupermanAndy Warhol SunsetAndy Warhol Shadows I
Amazingly sensitive magical measuring device,’ said the Dean.’Measures the density of a magical field. A thaumometer.’
The Senior Wrangler proudly held the cube aloft and pressed a button on the side. A needle on the dial wobbled houses on either side of the street.
Mrs Evadne Cake was a medium, verging on small.
It wasn’t a demanding job. Not many people who died in Ankh-Morpork showed much inclination to chat to their surviving relatives. Put as many mystic dimensions between you and them as possible, that was their motto. She filled in between engagements with dressmaking and church work - any church.
around a little bit and stopped. ‘See?’ said the Senior Wrangler. ‘Just natural background, representing no hazard to the public.’‘Speak up,’ said the Archchancellor.’I can’t hear you above the noise.’Crashes and screams rose from the

Paul Cezanne The Railway Cutting

Paul Cezanne The Railway CuttingPaul Cezanne The Hanged Man's HousePaul Cezanne Table CornerPaul Cezanne Still Life with Soup TureenPaul Cezanne Still Life with Fruit Pitcher and Fruit-Vase
wood . . . it was the wrong sort of wood.
Everything was wrong these days. More thin. More fuzzy. No real life in anything. And the days were shorter. Mmm. Something had gone wrong with the days. They were shorter days. Mmm. Every day took an age to go by, patronised by these boys who still had some of their own teeth. Like that Ridcully lad. Windle remembered him clearly. Thin lad, sticking-out ears, never wiped his nose properly, cried for his mother in the dorm on the first night. Always up to mischief. Someone had tried to tell Windle that Ridcully was Archchancellor now.
Mmm. They must think he was daft.which was odd, because days plural went past like a stampede. There weren’t many things people wanted a 130-year-old wizard to do, and Windle had got into the habit of arriving at the dining-table up to two hours before each meal, simply to pass the time. Mmm. Mind you, you didn’t get the sense now that you used to get in the old days.And they let the University be run by mere boys now. In the old days it had been run by proper wizards, great big men built like barges, the kind of wizards you could look up to. Then suddenly they’d all gone off somewhere and Windle was being