William Bouguereau The Wave

William Bouguereau The WaveWilliam Bouguereau RestWilliam Bouguereau The Rapture of Psyche
of Quirm knew about inspirations. One of his earliest inventions was an earthed metal nightcap, worn ini the hope that the damn things would stop leaving their white-hot trails across his tortured imagination. It seldom worked. He knew the shame .
He was a model prisoner. Give him enough wood, wire, paint and above all give him paper and pencils, and he stayed put.
The Patrician moved a stack of drawings and sat down.
'These are good,' he said. 'What are they?'of waking up to find the sheets covered with nocturnal sketches of unfamiliar siege engines and novel designs for apple-peeling machines.The da Quirms had been quite rich and young Leonard had been to a great many schools, where he had absorbed a ragbag of information despite his habit of staring out of the window and sketching the flight of birds. Leonard was one of those unfortunate individuals whose fate it was to be fascinated by the world, the taste, shape and movement of it . . .He fascinated Lord Vetinari as well, which is why he was still alive. Some things are so perfect of their type that they are hard to destroy. One of a kind is always special

Franz Marc Turm der blauen Pferde

Franz Marc Turm der blauen PferdeFranz Marc Der TraumFranz Marc Blaues Pferdchen
in the city.
It was certainly overpowering.
Angua could see the thing, for wossname's sake as it might be, but I s'pose there's no chance of me sniffing—'
'None.'
'Just askin'. No offence meant.'
Angua wrinkled her muzzle.several hours of Elm Street all in one go. The mugger's fear was a fading orange line. Carrot's trail was an expanding pale green cloud, with an edge that suggested- he was slightly worried; there were additional tones of old leather and armour polish. Other trails, faint or powerful, crisscrossed the street.There was one that smelled like an old privy carpet.'Yo, bitch,' said a voice behind her.She turned her head. Gaspode looked no better through canine vision, except that he was at the centre of a cloud of mixed odours.'Oh. It's you.'' 'S'right,' said Gaspode, feverishly scratching himself. He gave her a hopeful look. 'Just askin', you understand, just gettin' it over with right now, for the look of

Franz Marc Fate of the Animals

Franz Marc Fate of the AnimalsFranz Marc fate animalsFranz Marc Blue Horse
point was that Sybil Ramkin hardly ever had to buy anything. The mansion was full of this big, solid furniture, bought by Dragons was built with very, very thick walls and a very, very lightweight roof, an idiosyncrasy of architecture normally only found elsewhere in firework factories.
And this is because the natural condition of the common swamp dragon is to be chronically ill, and the natural state of an unhealthy dragon is to be laminated across the walls, floor and ceiling of whatever room it is in. A swamp dragon is a badly run, dangerously unstable chemical factory one step from disaster. One quite small step.
It has been speculated that its habit of exploding violently when angry, excitedher ancestors. It never wore out. She had whole boxes full of jewellery which just seemed to have accumulated over the centuries. Vimes had seen a wine cellar that a regiment of speleologists could get so happily drunk in that they wouldn't mind that they'd got lost without trace.Lady Sybil Ramkin lived quite comfortably from day to day by spending, Vimes estimated, about half as much as he did. But she spent a lot more on dragons.The Sunshine Sanctuary for Sick

Caravaggio The Cardsharps

Caravaggio The CardsharpsCaravaggio Judith Beheading HolofernesCaravaggio Amor Vincit OmniaPierre-Auguste Cot Le Printemps
heard the voice clearly in her head.
“You want to be queen?”
And she was free.
She felt the weariness drop away from her and it also felt as though pure Queen Ynci poured out of the helmet.
More bees rained. “Really?
You think so?”
She twisted. The axe dropped from Magrat’s fingers.
“And you wanted to be a witch?”
Bees were a brown fog, hiding the elves—too small to hit, impervious to glamour, but determined to kill.
Magrat felt the bone scrape.
“The old witch is finished,” said the Queen, forcing down, covering the slumped figure ofthe old witch.The Queen turned, and her smile froze as Magratstraightened up, stepped forward and, with hardly a thoughtin her head, raised the battleaxe and brought it around inone long sweep.The Queen moved faster. Her hand snaked out andgripped Magrat’s wrist.“Oh yes,” she said, grinning into Magrat’s face

Gustave Clarence Rodolphe Boulanger La Fille De Ferme

Gustave Clarence Rodolphe Boulanger La Fille De FermeSalvador Dali Living Still LifePeder Mork Monsted A River Landscape in SpringtimeGuillaume Seignac The Awakening of Psyche
fanning the air with their wings to keep the brood cool. But there was also the roar of bees circling the hive.
They were angry, and on guard.
There was a series of small weirs just on the borders of Lancre. Granny Weatherwax hauled herself up on to the damp woodwork, and Granny Weatherwax glared up the rocks. A short dis-
tance away the steep road ran on to Lancre, but there were
other, more private ways known to her among the trees,
“So,” she said, more or less to herself. “She wants to stop me going there, does she? Well, we’ll squelched to the bank where she emptied her boots.After a while a pointy wizard’s hat drifted downriver, and rose to reveal a pointy wizard underneath it. Granny lent a hand to help Ridcully out of the water.“There,” she said, “bracing, wasn’t it? Seemed to me you could do with a cold bath.”Ridcully tried to clean some mud out of his ear. He glared at Granny.“Why aren’t you wet?”“I am.”201Terry Pratchett“No you’re not. You’re just damp. I’m wet through. How can you float down a river and just be damp?” “I dries out quick.”

Mark Spain Cordoba

Mark Spain CordobaMark Spain ContemplationMark Spain Castilla
wouldn’t treat me as if I don’t know anything.”
Nanny coughed. “Your man,” she said. “Been around a bit, I expect? Been walking out with dozens of young women, I’ve no doubt.”
“Why do you say that? I don’t think he has. Fools don’t have much of a private life and, of course, he’s been very busy since he’s been king. He’s a bit shy with girls.”
Nanny gave up.
“Oh, well,”, briskly.
“They’ve put their mark on her,” said Granny. “You sure you know how to deal with it?”
“I do know it’s quite a nasty wound,” said Magrat, briskly.
“I ain’t exactly thinking about the wound,” said Granny.
“She’s been touched by them is what I mean. She’s—“
“I’m sure I know how to deal with a sick person,” said Magrat. “I’m not totally stupid she said, “I’m sure you’ll work it all out asyou—“Granny and the king reappeared.“How’s the girl?” said Granny.“We took out the arrow and cleaned up the wound, any-way,” said Magrat. “But she won’t wake up. Best if she stays here.”136LOR08 fiHD Lft0/£6“You sure?” said Granny. “She needs keeping an eye on.I’ve got a spare bedroom.”“She shouldn’t be moved,” said Magrat

Mark Spain Timeless Beauty

Mark Spain Timeless BeautyMark Spain The Pink DressMark Spain Sevilla
mad.
Magrat sat with her mouth open.
“I thought queens were bom,” she said.
“Oh, no,” said . “Pushes off and takes some of the colony with her. I must’ve seen a thousand swarms, me. Never seen a Royal swarm, though.”
“What’s a Royal swarm?”
“Can’t say for sure. It’s in some of the old bee books. A swarm of swarms. It’s something to see, they say.” The old ‘ beekeeper looked wistful for a moment.
‘”Course,” he went on, righting himself, “the real fun
starts if the weather’s bad and the ole queen can’t swarm,
101Mr. Brooks. “There ain’t no such thing asa queen egg. The bees just decides to feed one of ‘em up as aqueen. Feeds ‘em royal jelly”“What happens if they don’t?”“Then it just becomes an ordinary worker, your lady-ship,” said Mr. Brooks, with a suspiciously republican grin.Lucky for it, Magrat thought.“So they have a new queen, and then what happens to the old one?”“Usually the old girl swarms,” said Mr. Brooks

Cao Yong GARDEN SPLENDOR

Cao Yong GARDEN SPLENDORCao Yong GARDEN BEAUTIESCao Yong FRIENDS
of the circle?”
“Yes, lady!”
“It’s weakening. Did I not tell you?”
“How long? How long?”
“Soon. Soon. What They hadn’t landed inside the Dancers, of course. Even birds detoured rather than cross that airspace. Migrating spi-ders on gossamer threads floating half a mile up curved around it. Clouds split in two and flowed around it.
Mist hung around the stones. Sticky, damp mist.
Nanny hacked vaguely at the clinging bracken with her sickle.
“You there, Esme?” she muttered.went through the other way?”The elf tried to avoid her face.“Your ... pet, lady.”30LORDS ftffO ift0/£6“No doubt it won’t go far.” The Queen laughed. “No doubt it will have an amusing time ...”It rained briefly at dawn.There’s nothing nastier to walk through than shoulder-high wet bracken. Well, there is. There are an uncountable number of things nastier to walk through, especially if they’re shoulder-high. But here and now, thought Nanny Ogg, it was hard to think of more than one or two.

Leonardo da Vinci Leda and the Swan

Leonardo da Vinci Leda and the SwanLeonardo da Vinci St John in the WildernessLeonardo da Vinci The Last Supper
voice of theophany rumbled off the distant mountains.
III. Do I Hear Any Objections? No? Good.
The cloud had by now condensed into a shimmering golden figure, as tall as the Temple. It leaned down until its face was a few feet away don't know if I can think of any . . .
The world waited.
"How about `Think for Yourself'?" said Urn, staring in horrified fascination at the manifestation.
"No," said Simony. "Try something like `Social Cohesiveness is the Key to Progress.' "
"Can't say it rolls off the tongue," said Urn.
"If I can be of any help," said Cut-Me-Own-Hand-Off from Brutha, and in a whisper that boomed across the Place said:IV. Don't Worry. This Is Just The Start. You and Me, Kid! People Are Going To Find Out What Wailing and Gnashing Of Teeth Really Is.Another shaft of flame shot out and struck the Temple doors. They slammed shut, and then the white-hot bronze melted, erasing the commandments of the centuries.V. What Shall It Be, Prophet?Brutha stood up, unsteadily. Urn supported him by one arm, and Simony by the other."Mm?" he said, muzzily.VI. Your Commandments?"I thought they were supposed to come from you," said Brutha. "I

Vincent van Gogh Fishing Boats on the Beach

Vincent van Gogh Fishing Boats on the BeachVincent van Gogh Cornfield with CypressesVincent van Gogh Cherry TreeLeroy Neiman Michael Jordan
Just when things apparently look dark, suddenly we have unexpected friends everywhere," said Didactylos. "What is your plan, young man?"
"I haven't got one," said Brutha. "I just do things, one after the other."
"And how long will doing things one after another take you?"
"About ten minutes, I think."
Simony glared at Brutha.
"Now get the books," said Brutha. "And I shall need some light."
"But you can't even read!" said Urn.
"I'm not going to read them." Brutha looked blankly at the first scroll, which happened to be De Chelonian Mobile..
There was a tortoise in Brutha's room. It was sit­ting on the table, between a rolled-up scroll and a gnawed melon rind and, insofar as it was possible to tell with tortoises, was asleep. Simony grabbed it without ceremony, rammed it into his pack, and hur­ried back towards the Library.
He hated himself for doing it. The stupid priest had ruined everything! But Didactylos had made him promise, and Didactylos was the man who knew the Truth.
All the way there he had the impression that someone was trying to "Oh. My god," he said."Something wrong?" said Didactylos."Could someone fetch my tortoise?" Simony trotted through the palace. No one was paying him much attention. Most of the Ephebian guard was outside the labyrinth, and Vorbis had made it clear to anyone who was thinking of venturing inside just what would happen to the palace's inhabitants. Groups of Omnian soldiers were looting in a disciplined sort of way.Besides, he was returning to his quarters

John William Waterhouse The Lady of Shalott

John William Waterhouse The Lady of ShalottJohn William Waterhouse waterhouse OpheliaJohn William Waterhouse Hylas and the Nymphs
You did not see them," said Vorbis. "They are not coming with us. You will forget about them."
"Yes, lord." The request to do magic again.
After a few minutes the distant cloud turned off the road and started up the long slope that led to the high desert. Brutha the God," said Vorbis, "and trust that He is with us on this journey."
"He is," said Brutha, and the absolute conviction in his voice made Vorbis smile.
He strained to hear the nagging internal voice, but there was nothing. For one horrible moment Brutha wondered if the tortoise had fallen out of the box, but there was a reassuring weight on the strap.
"And we must bear with us the certainty that He will be with us in Ephebe, among the infidel," said Vorbis.
"I am sure He will," said Brutha.
"And prepare ourselves for the coming of the prophet," said Vorbis.watched them surreptitiously, and raised his eyes to the dune mountains.There was a speck circling up there.He put his hand to his mouth.Vorbis heard the gasp."What ails you, Brutha?" he said."I remembered about the God," said Brutha, without thinking."We should always remember

Wassily Kandinsky Several Circles

Wassily Kandinsky Several CirclesWassily Kandinsky Composition VIIIVincent van Gogh Sunflowers
in the prayer towers a flock of crows took off in a hurry.
After a full chorus of He is Trampling the Unrighteous with Hooves of Hot Iron Brutha unplugged his ears and risked a quick He looked around. The gardens were well inside the temple complex; and surrounded by high walls.
"How did you get in here, little creature?" he said. "Did you fly?"
The tortoise stared monoptically at him. Brutha felt a bit homesick. There had been plenty of tortoises in the sandy hills back home.
"I could give you some lettuce," said Brutha. "But I don't think tortoises listen.Apart from the distant protests of the crows, there was silence.It worked. Put your trust in the God, they said. And he always had. As far back as he could remember.He picked up his hoe and turned back, in relief, to the vines.The hoe's blade was about to hit the ground when Brutha saw the tortoise.It was small and basically yellow and covered with dust. Its shell was badly chipped. It had one beady eye -the other had fallen to one of the thousands of dangers that attend any slow-moving creature which lives an inch from the ground.

Guido Reni The Coronation of the Virgin

Guido Reni The Coronation of the VirginGuido Reni St JosephGuido Reni St Jerome
Rincewind stirred the rubble with his toe.
There was only the one door into the Library. Then there were the cellars - he could see the stairs down to them, choked , but for a moment he thought he saw a movement up among the crumbling turrets.
He wondered how old the tower really was. Older than the University, certainly. Older than the city, which had formed about it like scree around a mountain. Maybe older than geography. There had been a time when the continents were different, Rincewind understood, and then they'd sort of shuffled more comfortably together like puppies in a basket. Perhaps the tower had been washed up on the with garbage - but you couldn't hide all the books down there. You couldn't teleport them out either, they would be resistant to such magic; anyone who tried something like that would end up wearing his brains outside his hat.There was an explosion overhead. A ring of orange fire formed about halfway up the tower of sourcery, ascended quickly and soared off towards Quirm.Rincewind slid around on his makeshift seat and stared up at the Tower of Art. He got the distinct impression that it was looking back at him. It was totally without windows

Jean Francois Millet The Walk to Work

Jean Francois Millet The Walk to WorkJean Francois Millet The AngelusJean Francois Millet Angelus
shouldn't think so,' said Rincewind. 'Wizardry isn't allowed to run in families.' He paused. He knew Cohen, he'd even been a guest at one of his weddings when he married a girl of Conina's age; you could say this about Cohen, he crammed every hour full of minutes. 'A lot of people would like to take after Cohen, I mean, he was the best fighter,on the subject of parents.
'Kleptomania? Recidivist?' he hazarded.
'Begins with an H.'
'Hedonism?' said Rincewind desperately.
'Herrydeterry,' said Conina. 'This witch explained it to me. My mother was a temple dancer for some mad god or other, and father rescued her, and - they stayed together for a while. They say I get my looks and figure from her.' the greatest thief, he-’'A lot of men would,' Conina snapped. She leaned against a wall and glared at him.'Listen,' she said, 'There's this long word, see, an old witch told me about it ...can't remember it ...you wizards know about long words.'Rincewind thought about long words. 'Marmalade?' he volunteered.She shook her head irritably. 'It means you take after your parents.'Rincewind frowned. He wasn't too good

Amedeo Modigliani Nude Sdraiato

Amedeo Modigliani Nude SdraiatoAmedeo Modigliani Caryatid 1Alphonse Maria Mucha Winter
given that most prospective worshippers were impaled, squashed, poisoned or sliced by booby-traps even before making it as far as the little box and the jolly drawing of a thermometer’ outside the vestry. They were playing Cripple Mr Onion on the high altar, beneath the very shadow of the jewel-encrusted statue of Offler Himself, when they heard the distant creak of the main door.
The High .
‘Right.’ The High Priest peered at his cards.’OK, I’ll see your two peb-‘ There was the faint sound of footsteps.
‘Chap with a whip got as far as the big sharp spikes last week,’ said the low priest.
There was a sound like the flushing of a very old dry lavatory. The footsteps stopped.
The High Priest smiled to himself.
‘Right,’ he said.’See your two pebbles and raise you two pebblesPriest didn’t look up.“Lost Jewelled Temple Roof Repair Fund! Only 6,000 gold pieces to go!! ‘Heyup.’ he said. ‘Another one for the big rolling ball, then.’ There was a thump and a rumbling, grinding sound. And then a very final bang.‘Now,’ said the High Priest. ‘What was the stake?’‘Two pebbles,’ said the low priest

Caravaggio The Fortune Teller

Caravaggio The Fortune TellerCaravaggio The Conversion on the Way to DamascusCaravaggio The Annunciation
Miss Flitworth peered out of the window, and then flung herself dramatically against the wall on one side of it.
‘He’s gone!’
IT, said Bill Door. IT WON’T BE A HE YET.
‘It’s gone. It could be anywhere.’
IT CAN BECAUSE OF DRAMA, MISS FLITWORTH. THE KIND OF DEATH WHO POSES AGAINST THE SKYLINE AND GETS LIT UP BY LIGHTNING FLASHES, said Bill Door, disapprovingly, DOESN’T TURN UP AT FIVE. AND-TWENTY PAST ELEVEN IF HE CAN POSSIBLY TURN UP AT MIDNIGHT. She nodded, white-faced, and disappeared upstairs. After a minute or two she returned, with Sal wrapped up in a blanketCOME THROUGH THE WALL.She darted forward, and then glared at him.VERY WELL. FETCH THE CHILD. I THINK WE SHOULD LEAVE HERE. A thought struck him. He brightened up a little bit.WE DO HAVE SOME TIME. WHAT IS THE HOUR?‘I don’t know. You go around stopping the clocks the whole time.’BUT IT IS NOT YET MIDNIGHT?‘I shouldn’t think it’s more than a quarter past eleven.’THEN WE HAVE THREE-QUARTERS OF AN HOUR.‘How can you be sure?’

John William Waterhouse Waterhouse Narcissus

John William Waterhouse Waterhouse NarcissusJohn William Waterhouse The Lady of ShalottJohn William Waterhouse waterhouse Ophelia
that’s ridiculous.’
‘Maybe. Isn’t there a sort of cuckoo in the Ramtops that builds clocks to nest in?’ said the Bursar.
‘Yes, but that’s just courtship ritual,’ said the Lecturer in Recent Runes airily. ‘Besides, they keep lousy time.’
The ?’
‘It’s tempting, but no. Come on. After it.’
‘Yo!’
‘If you like.’
The wizards lumbered in pursuit. Behind them, as yet unnoticed, a whole flock of the Archchancellor’s swearwords fluttered and buzzed. And Windle Poons was leading a small deputation to the Library.
The Librarian of Unseen University knuckled his way hurriedly across the floor as the door trolley leapt for a gap in the wizards and would have made it except that the gap was occupied by the Bursar, who gave a scream and pitched forward into the basket. The trolley didn’t stop but rattled onwards, towards the gates.The Dean raised his staff. The Archchancellor grabbed it. ‘You might hit the Bursar,’ he said.‘Just one small fireball

Vincent van Gogh The Olive Trees

Vincent van Gogh The Olive TreesVincent van Gogh Fishing in SpringUnknown Artist Ranson Apple Tree with Red Fruit
There was a faint knocking at the barn door, below the hayloft. He heard it pushed open.
‘Are you decent, Bill Door?’ said Miss Flitworth’s voice in the darkness.
Bill Door an astronaut is aware of weather patterns below him; they’re all visible, all there, all laid out for study and all totally divorced from actual experience. THANK YOU, he said.
Miss Flitworth looked around.
‘You’ve really made yourself at home here,’ she said brightly.
YES.
She pulled the shawl around her shoulders.analysed the sentence for meaning within context.YES? he ventured.‘I’ve brought you a hot milk drink.’YES?‘Come on, quick now. Otherwise it’ll go cold.’Bill Door cautiously climbed down the wooden ladder. Miss Flitworth was holding a lantern, and had a shawl around her shoulders.‘It’s got cinnamon on it. My Ralph always liked cinnamon.’ She sighed. Bill Door was aware of undertones and overtones in the same way that

Pino MOTHER'S LOVE

Pino MOTHER'S LOVEPino Morning DreamsPino LONG STEMMED LOVELIESPino DRESSING TABLEPino DAYDREAM
’ he suggested.
The chandelier dropped.
Bits of table and crockery smashed into the walls. Lumps of lethal tallow the size of a man’s head whirred through the windows. A whole candle, propelled out of the wreckage at a freak velocity, was driven several inches into a door.
The Archchancellor disentangled himself from the remains of his chair.
‘Bursar!’ he yelled.
The Bursar was exhumed from the fireplace.
‘Um, yes,Brandy. He was quite attached to his hat.
But it was no longer attached to him.
It drifted gently across the room. There was a faint but distinct gurgling noise.
The Archchancellor leapt to his feet.’Bugger that,’ he roared.’That stuff’s nine dollars a fifth!’ He made a leap for the hat, missed, and kept on going until he drifted to a halt several feet above the ground. The Bursar raised a hand, nervously.
‘Possibly woodworm?’ he said. Archchancellor?’ he quavered.‘What was the meanin’ of that?’Ridcully’s hat rose from his head.It was a basic floppy-brimmed, pointy wizarding hat, but adapted to the Archchancellor’s outgoing lifestyle. Fishing flies were stuck in it. A very small pistol crossbow was shoved in the hatband in case he saw something to shoot while out jogging, and Mustrum Ridcully had found that the pointy bit was just the right size for a small bottle of Bentinck’s Very Old Peculiar