Thomas Kinkade Serenity Cove

Thomas Kinkade Serenity Cove
the sunlight again.The inner courtyard was lined with clowns and fools. Bells tinkled in the breeze. Sunlight glinted off red noses and the occasional nervous jet of water from a fake buttonhole.The clown ushered
Thomas Kinkade Petals of Hope
forgetting: is it crying on the outside and laughing on the inside? I always get it mixed up.''About this Beano—'Colon began.'We're just holding his funeral,' said the little clown. 'That's why my trousers are at half-mast.'They stepped out
Thomas Kinkade Make a Wish Cottage
,' Colon warned.Boffo looked crestfallen.A band struck up, and a procession of Guild members emerged from the chapel. A clown walked a little way ahead, carrying a small urn.'This is very moving,' said Boffo.On a dais on the opposite side of the quadrangle was a fat clown in baggy trousers, huge braces, a bow tie that was spinning gently in the breeze
Thomas Kinkade Key West

I suppose not.' The clown sighed. 'It's not easy, you know. Clowning, I mean. I'm on gate duty 'cos I'm on probation.'
'You are?'
'I keep on into the guards into a line of fools.
'I'm sure Dr Whiteface will talk to you as soon as we've finished,' he said. 'My name's Boffo, by the way.' He held out his hand hopefully.
'Don't shake it, and a top hat. His face had been painted into a picture of misery. He held a bladder on a stick.
The clown with the urn reached the dais, climbed the steps, and waited.
The band fell silent.
The clown in the top hat hit the urn-carrier about th

Sir Henry Raeburn Boy And Rabbit

Sir Henry Raeburn Boy And RabbitJean Fragonard Young Girl ReadingJean Fragonard The Stolen Kiss
Vetinari put down a piece of paper on one of the piles, and picked up another.
'You are still here, Dr Cruces.'
'I can assure you, m'Lord, that—'
'I'm sure you can. I'm sure'Certainly, m'Lord,' said the Assassin, glumly. 'But—'
Noon began.
Noon in Ankh-Morpork took some time, since twelve o'clock was established by consensus. Generally, the first bell to start was that one in the Teachers' Guild, in response to the universal prayers of its members. Then the water clock on the Temple of Small Gods would trigger the big bronze gong. The you can. There is one question that intrigues me, however.''M'Lord?''Why was it in your Guild House to be stolen? I had been given to understand it had been destroyed. I'm quite sure I gave orders.'This was the question the Assassin had been hoping would not be asked. But the Patrician was good at that game.'Er. We – that is, my predecessor - thought it should serve as a warning and an example.'The Patrician looked up and smiled brightly.'Capital!' he said. 'I have always had a great belief in the effectiveness of examples. So I am sure you'll be able to sort this out with minimum inconvenience all round.'

Mark Spain Eternal Flame

Mark Spain Eternal FlameMark Spain EncoreMark Spain Dance IMark Spain Crescendo IIMark Spain Crescendo I
thing,” she said, “even when Magrat’s completely different, she’s just the same.”
Nanny Ogglowered its horn.
“Whoops,” said Nanny, dropping her just desserts.
“Come on. There’s a tree here, come on.”
Granny Weatherwax shook her head.
“No. I ain’t runnin’ this time. She couldn’t get me before and she’s tryin’ through an animal, produced a wooden spoon from somewhere in her apron. Then she raised her hat and carefully lifted down a bowl of cream, custard, and jelly which she had secreted there.l Nanny Ogg was also a great picker-up of unconsidered trifles. 305Terry Pratchett“Huh. I really don’t know why you pinches food the whole time,” said Granny. “Verence’d give you a bathful of the stuff if you asked. You know he don’t touch custard himself.”“More fun this way,” said Nanny. “I deserve a bit of fun.”There was a rustling in the thick bushes and the unicorn burst through.It was mad. It was angry. It was in a world where it did not belong. And it was being driven.It pawed the ground a hundred yards away, and

Paul Gauguin Hail Mary

Paul Gauguin Hail MaryHenri Matisse Woman with a HatHenri Matisse The Window
was a circle of tents just on the cusp of the war-ring landscapes, like a beachhead on an alien shore. They were brightly colored. Everything about the elves was beau-tiful, until the image tilted, and you saw it from the other side...
Something was happening. Several elves were on horseback, and more horses were being led between the tents.
It looked as though they were breaking camp.
The Queen sat on a makeshift throne in her tent. She sat with her elbow resting on one arm of the throne and her fin-gers curling pensively around her mouth.
There were other Currently the object of her attention was Granny Weatherwax.
“What is happening, old woman?” she said.
“It ain’t easy, is it?” said Granny. “Thought it would be easy, didn’t you?”
“You’ve done some magic, haven’t you? Something is fighting us.”elves seated in a semicircle, except that“seated” was a barely satisfactory word. They lounged; elvescould make themselves at home on a wire. And here therewas more lace and velvet and fewer feathers, although it was272LOR06 /)//0 LftD/£6hard to know if it meant that these were aristocrats—elves seemed to wear whatever they felt like wearing, confident of looking absolutely stunning.Every one of them watched the Queen, and was a mirror of her moods. When she smiled, they smiled. When she said something she thought was amusing, they laughed.

Henri Matisse La moulade

Henri Matisse La mouladeHenri Matisse Interior with PhonographHenri Matisse Decorative Figure on an Ornamental BackgroundHenri Matisse Blue Still Life
minute, everything you touch turns to gold. He was plagued with it.”
Carter looked puzzled.
“How did he manage when he had to—“
“Let that be a lesson to you, young Carter,” said Baker. “You stay here where folks are sensible, not go gadding off abroad where you might suddenly be holding a fortune in your hands and not have anything to spend it on.”
“We’ve slept “Oh, well,” he said, managing to stand up at the third attempt, “probably no harm done. Let’s get on home and see what century it is.”
“What century is it, anyway?” said Thatcher.
“Century of the Fruitbat, isn’t it?” said Baker.
“Might not be anymore,” said Carter hopefully. It turned out that it was, indeed, the Century of the Fruitbat. Lancre didn’t have much use for units of time any smaller than an hour out here all night,” said Jason uncertainly “That’s dangerous, that is.”“You’re right there, Mr. Ogg,” said Carter, “I think some-thing went to the toilet in my ear.”“I mean strange things can enter your head.”“That’s what I mean, too.”166LORQ6 ft/YQ LfibfEQJason blinked. He was certain he’d dreamed. He could remember dreaming. But he couldn’t remember what the dream had been about. But there was still the feeling in his head of voices talking to him, but too far away to be heard.

William Bouguereau Jeune Bergere Debout

William Bouguereau Jeune Bergere DeboutJohn Constable Malvern HallJohn William Waterhouse The SorceressJohn William Waterhouse The Enchanted Garden
Other people would probably say: I wasn’t myself. But Granny Weatherwax didn’t have anyone else to be.
The two witches hurried on through the gale.
From the shelter of a thorn thicket, the unicorn watched them go.
Diamanda Tockley did indeed wear a floppy black velvet hat. It had a veil, too.
Perdita Nitt, who had once been merely Agnes Nitt before she got witchcraft, wore a black hat with a veil too, because Diamanda did. Both of them were seventeen. And she wished she was naturally skinny, like Diamanda, but if you can’t be about this Inner Self business. She was coming to suspect that she didn’t have one.
60
LOR06 ftffQ LftO/eS
And she wished she could do her eyes like Diamanda did.
And she wished she could wear heels like Diamanda did.skinny you can at least look unhealthy. So she wore so much thick white make-up in order to conceal her naturally rosy complexion that if she turned around suddenly her face would probably end up on the back of her head.They’d done the Raising of the Cone of Power, and some candle magic, and some scrying. Now Diamanda was show-ing them how to do the cards.She said they contained the distilled wisdom of the Ancients. Perdita had found herself treacherously wonder-ing who these Ancients were—they clearly weren’t the same as old people, who were stupid, Diamanda said, but she wasn’t quite clear why they were wiser than, say, modem people.Also, she didn’t understand what the FemininePrinciple was. And she wasn’t too clear

Mark Spain Contemplation

Mark Spain ContemplationMark Spain CastillaMark Spain Carmen
my help, I believe you may,” said the woman in
the circle. “Your young man is looking for you, I think,” she
added mildly
Another of those one-shoulder shrugs, indicating that the young man can go on looking all day.
“I will, will I?”
“You could be a great witch. You could be anything.
Anything you want. Come into the circle. Let me show you.”
The girl takes a few steps forward, and then hesitates. There is something about the woman’s tone. The smile is pleasant But that was a long time ago, in the past. And besides, the bitch is ...
... older.
A land of ice ...
Not winter, because that presumes an autumn and per-haps one day a spring. This is a land of iceand friendly, but there is something in the voice—too desperate, too urgent, too hungry.“But I’m learning a lot—““Step through the stones now!”The girl hesitates again.“How do I know—“Terry Pratchett“Circle time is nearly over! Think of what you can leam!Now!”“But—““Step through!”

Thomas Kinkade Sweetheart Cottage II

Thomas Kinkade Sweetheart Cottage IIThomas Kinkade Sunrise ChapelThomas Kinkade Streams of Living Water
had a distinct feeling that he knew what was going to come next.
"Beer cold enough?" he said.
"Extremely frosty," said St. Ungulant, beaming.
"And the roast "Full of giant purple singing slugs? Talking pillars of flame? Exploding giraffes? That sort of thing?" said Brutha carefully.
"Good heavens, yes," said the saint. "I don't know why. I think they're attracted by the mushrooms."
Brutha nodded.
"You're catching on, kid," said Om.
"And I expect sometimes you drink . . . water?" said Brutha.pig?"St. Ungulant's smile was manic."All brown and crunchy round the edges, yes," he said."But I expect, er . . . you eat the occasional lizard or snake, too?""Funny you should say that. Yes. Every once in a while. Just for a bit of variety.""And mushrooms, too?" said Om."Any mushrooms in these parts?" said Brutha innocently.St. Ungulant nodded happily."After the annual rains, yes. Red ones with yellow spots. The desert becomes really interesting after the mushroom season."

Thomas Moran Entrance to the Grand Canal, Venice

Thomas Moran Entrance to the Grand Canal, VeniceJean Francois Millet The Walk to WorkJean Francois Millet The Angelus
prisoners' escort.
Brutha could see that Vorbis was boiling with fury. A small vein on the side of the exquisitor's bald temple was throbbing.
As if feeling Brutha's eyes on him, Vorbis turned his head.
"You seem ill at ease this morning, Brutha," he said.
"Sorry, lord."
"You seem to be looking into every corner. What are you expecting to find?"
"Uh. Just interested, lord. Everything's new."
"All the so-truth, Brutha. Heresy is often fascinating. Therein lies its danger."
"Yes, lord."
"Hah! And not only do they carve forbidden statues, but they can't even do it properly."
Brutha was no expert, but even he had to agree that this was true. Now the novelty of them had worn off, the statues that decorated every niche in the palace did have a certain badly made look. Brutha was prettcalled wisdom of Ephebe is not worth one line from the least paragraph in the Septateuch," said Vorbis."May we not study the works of the infidel in order to be more alert to the ways of heresy?" said Brutha, surprised at himself."Ah. A persuasive argument, Brutha, and one that the inquisitors have heard many times, if a little indistinctly in many cases."Vorbis glowered at the back of the head of Aristocrates, who was leading the party. "It is but a small step from listening to heresy to questioning established y sure he'd just passed one with two left arms. Another one had one ear larger than the other

Henri Rousseau The Dream

Henri Rousseau The DreamPaul Cezanne Mount Sainte VictoirePaul Cezanne Card PlayersLaurie Maitland fireWilliam Bouguereau Innocence
He's not," said Nhumrod.
Vorbis nodded approvingly. Undue intelligence in a novice was a mixed blessing. Sometimes it could be channeled for the greater glory of Om, but often it caused . . . well, it did not cause trouble, because Vorbis knew exactly what to do with misapplied intelligence, but it did cause unnecessary work.
"And yet you tell me his tutors speak so highly of him," he said.
Nhumrod shrugged.
"He is very obedient," he said. "And . . . well, there's his memory."
"What about his most imperfect world," he muttered.
"A devoutly read young man," said Vorbis.
"Er," said Nhumrod, "no. He can't read. Or write."
"Ah. A lazy boy."
The deacon was not a man who dwelt in grey areas. Nhumrod's mouth opened and shut silently as he sought for the proper words.memory?""There's so much of it," said Nhumrod."He has got a good memory?""Good is the wrong word. It's superb. He's word-perfect on the entire Sept-""Hmm?" said Vorbis.Nhumrod caught the deacon's eye."As perfect, that is, as anything may be in this
"No," he said. "He tries. We're sure he tries. He just does not seem to be able to make

Franz Marc Stables

Franz Marc StablesFranz Marc FoxesFranz Marc fighting forms
nowhere he found the words, 'You know what happens to boys who are bad!'
Coin went pale, turned and ran towards the light. He moved as though through treacle, fighting against the entropy slope. it was that had caught him.
Light and grainy dark flicked around him and suddenly he was sliding over cobbles slicked with ice.
The Librarian let go his hold and stood over Coin with a length of heavy wooden beam in his hand. For a moment the ape reared against the darkness, the shoulder, elbow and wrist of his right arm unfolding in a poem of applied leverage, and in a movement as unstoppable The distorted image of the world turned inside out hovered a few feet away, then inches, wavering uncertainly ...A tentacle curled around his leg, tumbling him forward.He flung his hands out as he fell, and one of them touched snow. It was immediately grabbed by something else that felt like a warm, soft leather glove, but under the gentle touch was a grip as tough as tempered steel and it tugged him forward, also dragging whatever

Franz Marc Horse in a Landscape

Franz Marc Horse in a LandscapeFranz Marc Drei KatzenFranz Marc Dog Lying in the Snow
him.'
He reached out for Rincewind's shoulder just as something went past very high overhead, making a noise like a flock of geese on nitrous oxide. It disappeared into the desert behind them. Then there was a sound that would have set false 'What's been happening?' he said.
'Some sort of magical fireworks.'
'Oh. It's started, then.'
He lurched unsteadily out of the circle, in a way that suggested to Conina that perhaps he wasn't quite awake yet, and staggered back towards the remains of the fire. He walked a few steps and then appeared to remember something.teeth on edge, a flash of green light, and a thump.'I'll wake him up,' said Conina. 'You get the carpet.'She clambered over the ring of rocks and took the sleeping wizard gently by the arm, and this would have been a textbook way of waking a somnambulist if Rincewind hadn't dropped the rock he was carrying on his foot.He opened his eyes.'Where am I?' he said.'On the beach. You've been ... er ... dreaming.'Rincewind blinked at the mist, the sky, the circle of stones, Conina, the circle of stones again, and finally back at the sky.

Leroy Neiman American Stock Exchange

Leroy Neiman American Stock ExchangeLeroy Neiman 18th at HarbourtownLeroy Neiman 16th at Augusta
shouldn't think so,' she said, thoughtfully.
Rincewind remembered himself. 'I don't think a young woman like you should be looking at this sort of thing,' he said sternly.introduce him to nice relatives.
'Well, I can see they would be,' Rincewind agreed. 'Look, push off, will you? No, I don't want to buy whatever it is. No, I don't want to meet her. Or him, either. Or it, you nasty little boy. Get off, will you?'
The last scream was to the group of children riding sedately Conina gave him a smile. 'I think wizards are expressly forbidden to,' she said sweetly. 'It's supposed to turn you blind.'Rincewind turned his face upwards again, prepared to risk maybe one eye. This sort of thing is only to be expected, he told himself. They don't know any better. Foreign countries are, well, foreign countries. They do things differently there.Although some things, he decided, were done in very much the same way, only with rather more inventiveness and, by the look of it, far more often.'The temple frescoes of Al Khali are famous far and wide,' said Conina, as they walked through crowds of children who kept trying to sell Rincewind things and

Claude Monet Monet Spring Flowers

Claude Monet Monet Spring FlowersClaude Monet The Red Boats ArgenteuilClaude Monet Poplars on the Epte
define somebody.
'When I was a little boy,' he said wistfully, 'I saw this picture of a sourcerer in a book. He was standing on a mountain top 'How do you pay for this stuff? Every time anyone gives you any money you eat it.'
'Oook.'
Amazing.'
Rincewind completed his sketch in the beer. There was a stick figure on a cliff. It didn't look much like him - drawing in stale beer is not a precise art - but it was meant to.waving his arms and the waves were coming right up, you know, like they do down in Ankh Bay in a gale, and there were flashes of lightning all round him-’'Oook?''I don't know why they didn't, perhaps he had rubber boots on,' Rincewind snapped, and went on dreamily,'And he had this staff and a hat on, just like mine, and his eyes were sort of glowing and there was all this sort of like glitter coming out of his fingertips, and I thought one day I'll do that, and-‘'Oook?''Just a half, then.''Oook.'

Vincent van Gogh Wheat Field 1889

Vincent van Gogh Wheat Field 1889Vincent van Gogh Road with Cypress and StarVincent van Gogh Olive Trees 1889
Miss Flitworth gave him a panicky look but put the unconscious child on Binky’s back and climbed up after her. Then Bill Door brought his hand down hard on the horse’s flank. There at least there was contact - Binky existed in all worlds.
Go!
He left it when they brought him back,
was his scythe; not the one he’d carefully prepared. but the one he’d used
for the harvest. What edge it had had been achieved only by the whetstone
and the caress of the stalks, but it was a familiardidn’t look around but darted on up the road towards the farm.A weapon!Something he could hold!The only weapon in the undead world was in the hands of the new Death. As Bill Door ran he was aware of a faint, higher-pitched clicking noise. He looked down. The Death of Rats was keeping pace with him. It gave him an encouraging squeak.He skidded through the farm gate and flung himself against the wall.There was the distant rumble of the storm. Apart from that, silence. He relaxed slightly, and crept cautiously along the wall towards the back of the farmhouse.He caught a glimpse of something metallic. Leaning against the wall there. where the men from the village had

Unknown Artist Audrey Hepburn

Unknown Artist Audrey HepburnPiet Mondrian Gray TreePiet Mondrian Composition with Yellow Blue and Red
looked at her as if she was mad.
BECAUSE THEN THERE WILL BE NOTHING. BECAUSE I WON’T EXIST.
‘Is that what happens for humans, too?’
I DON’T THINK SO. IT’S DIFFERENT FOR YOU. YOU HAVE IT ALL BETTER ORGANISED.
They both sat watching the fading glow of the coals in the forge.
‘So what DEATH. LAST NIGHT THIS WAS PUSHED UNDER THE DOOR.
Death opened his hand to reveal a small grubby piece of paper, on which Miss Flitworth could read. with some difficulty, the word:
OOoooEEEeeOOOoooEEeeeOOOoooEEeee.were you working on the scythe blade for?’ said Miss Flitworth.I THOUGHT PERHAPS I COULD . . . FIGHT BACK . . .‘Has it ever worked? With you, I mean.’NOT USUALLY. SOMETIMES PEOPLE CHALLENGE ME TO A GAME. FOR THEIR LIVES, YOU KNOW. ‘Do they ever win?’NO. LAST YEAR SOMEONE GOT THREE STREETS AND ALL THE UTILITIES. ‘What? What sort of game is that?’I DON’T RECALL.’EXCLUSIVE POSSESSION’, I THINK. I WAS THE BOOT. ‘Just a moment.’ said Miss Flitworth. If you’re you, who will be coming for you?’

Pierre-Auguste Cot Le Printemps

Pierre-Auguste Cot Le PrintempsGeorge Frederick Watts CharityFrancisco de Goya Nude Maja
shape of the Count extended a beringed hand. The Count himself gave Windle a worried grin. He seemed to be wearing opera dress designed for a man several sizes larger.
‘And Brother Schleppel -‘
The chair was said Mr Shoe.’I do my best, but I’m afraid some people just don’t seem prepared to make the effort.’ ‘Er . . . dead people?’ said Windle, still staring at the note. ‘Apathy, I call it,’ said Mr Shoe, bitterly.’How can the movement make progress if people are just going to lie around the whole time?’ Lupine started making frantic ‘don’t get him started’ signals behind Mr Shoe’s head, but Windle wasn’t able to stop himself in time. ‘What movement?’ he said.
‘Dead Rights, ‘ said Mr Shoe promptly. ‘I’ll give you one of my leaflets.’ ‘But, surelyempty. But a deep voice from the darkness underneath it said, ‘Evenin’.’‘And Brother Lupine.’ The muscular, hairy young man with the long canines and pointy ears gave Windle’s hand a hearty shake.‘And Sister Drull. And Brother Gorper. And Brother Ixolite.’Windle shook a number of variations on the theme of hand. Brother Ixolite handed him a small piece of yellow paper. On it was written one word: OoooEeeeOoooEeeeOoooEEEee.‘I’m sorry there aren’t more here tonight,’

William Blake the Body of Abel Found by Adam and Eve

William Blake the Body of Abel Found by Adam and EveVincent van Gogh Vase with Twelve SunflowersVincent van Gogh Vase with Daisies and AnemonesVincent van Gogh The Starry Night 2Vincent van Gogh The Church in Auvers
It’s Like when you’re lying in bed of a night and you hear your stomach or something go pripple-ipple-goinnng. It’s just a gurgle to you, but who knows what marvellously complex chemical exchange processes are really all them frantic signals,’ he said. And he was
amazed to realise that this

was true. Eyes that had viewed the past sixty years trough a pale, fuzzy veil had been bullied into operating like the finest optical machinery. In fact two main bodies of thought were occupying the minds of the wizards of Unseen University.going -‘ ‘You’re an undead?’ said the Bursar, managing to get the words out at last.‘I didn’t ask to be,’ said the late Windle Poons irritably looking at the food and wondering how the blazes one went about turning it into Windle Poons.’I only came back because there was nowhere else to go. Think I want to be here?’‘But surely,’ said the Archchancellor, ‘didn’t . . . you know the fella, the one with the skull and the scythe -‘ ‘Never saw him,’ said Windle, shortly, inspecting the nearest dishes.’Really takes it out of you, this un-dyin’.’ The wizards made frantic signals to one another over his head. He looked up and glared at them.‘And don’t think I can’t see