Vincent van Gogh The Night Cafe in the Place Lamartine in ArlesVincent van Gogh The good Samaritan DelacroixVincent van Gogh A Novel ReaderLeonardo da Vinci The Virgin and Child With St AnneLeonardo da Vinci Madonna With The Carnation
threedimensional. The arm flailed vaguely ‑at Victor as he methodically threw coils of octo‑cellulose over it. He ran back to the booth and pulled out the stacks of clicks that Bezam, in defiance of common sense, had stored under the bench.
Working with the methodical calmness of bowel‑twisting terror, he carried the cans by the armload to the screen He pushed open the doors to the, foyer and dashed out into the street, where the crowds were milling around in horrified fascination and watching a fifty‑foot Ginger disentangling Itself from the wreckage of a building.
Victor heard a clicking beside him. Gaffer the handleman was intently capturing the scene on film.
The Chair was shouting at Dibbler.and heaped them there. The Thing managed to wrench another arm free of two‑dimensionality and tried to scrabble at them, but whatever was controlling it was having trouble controlling this new shape. It was probably unused to having only two arms, Victor told himself.He threw the last can on to the heap.‘In our world you have to obey our rules,’ he said. ‘And I bet you burn just as well as anything else, hey?’The Thing struggled to pull a leg free.Victor patted his pockets. He ran back to the booth and scrabbled around madly.Matches. There weren’t any matches!
2009年3月29日星期日
John Collier A Devonshire Orchard
John Collier A Devonshire OrchardCao Yong Red UmbrellaCao Yong GARDEN BEAUTIESCao Yong FreedomCao Yong Day of Love
. a Golden Warrior, who drove the Fiends back and saved the World, and said, Where the Gate is, There Am I Also; I Am He that was Born of Holy Wood, to guard the
Wild Idea. And ‘And the People said to one another, Funny, he lookes just like my Uncle Osbert . . . ‘
The Librarian turned the page.
‘ . . . But there were among them, humans and animals alike, those touched by the magic of Holy Wood. It goeth through the generations like an ancient curse, until the priests cease in their Remembrance and the Golden Man sleepeth. Then let the world Beware . . . ‘
The Librarian let the book snap shut. they said, What must we do to Destroy the Gate Forever, and he said unto them, This you Cannot Do, for it is Not a Thing, but I will Guard the Gate for you. And they, not having been Born yesterday, and fearing the Cure more than the Malady, said to him, What will you Take from Us, that you will Guard the Door. And he grew until he was the height of a tree and said, Only your Remembrance, that I do Not Sleep. Three times a day will you remember Holy Wood. Else The Cities of the World Will Tremble and Fall, and you will See the Greatest of them All in Flames. And with that the Golden Man took up his golden sword and went into the Hill and stood at the Gate, forever.
. a Golden Warrior, who drove the Fiends back and saved the World, and said, Where the Gate is, There Am I Also; I Am He that was Born of Holy Wood, to guard the
Wild Idea. And ‘And the People said to one another, Funny, he lookes just like my Uncle Osbert . . . ‘
The Librarian turned the page.
‘ . . . But there were among them, humans and animals alike, those touched by the magic of Holy Wood. It goeth through the generations like an ancient curse, until the priests cease in their Remembrance and the Golden Man sleepeth. Then let the world Beware . . . ‘
The Librarian let the book snap shut. they said, What must we do to Destroy the Gate Forever, and he said unto them, This you Cannot Do, for it is Not a Thing, but I will Guard the Gate for you. And they, not having been Born yesterday, and fearing the Cure more than the Malady, said to him, What will you Take from Us, that you will Guard the Door. And he grew until he was the height of a tree and said, Only your Remembrance, that I do Not Sleep. Three times a day will you remember Holy Wood. Else The Cities of the World Will Tremble and Fall, and you will See the Greatest of them All in Flames. And with that the Golden Man took up his golden sword and went into the Hill and stood at the Gate, forever.
2009年3月27日星期五
Rene Magritte The Ignorant Fairy
Rene Magritte The Ignorant FairyRene Magritte The Human ConditionRene Magritte The Great WarRene Magritte The Empire of LightRene Magritte The Big Family
M’Bu leaned on the fence and waited.
‘Maybe two hundred, give or take ten,’ said Azhural, throwing down the stick. ‘Nowhere near enough.’
‘You can’t give or take ten elephants, boss,’ said M’Bu firmly. He knew that counting elephants was a precision job. A‘Drawing a map, boss,’ said M’Bu.
Azhural shook his head. ‘Not worth it, boy. Three thousand miles to Ankh, I reckon, I let myself get carried away. Too many miles, not enough elephants.’
‘We could go across the plains, boss,’ said M’Bu. ‘Lot of elephants on the plains man might be uncertain about how many wives he had, but never about elephants. Either you had one, or you didn’t. ‘Our agent in Klatch has an order for’, Azhural swallowed, ‘a thousand elephants. A thousand! Immediately! Cash on delivery!’ Azhural let the paper drop to the ground. ‘To a place called Ankh-Morpork,’ he said despondently. He sighed. ‘It would have been nice,’ he said. M’Bu scratched his head and stared at the hammerhead clouds massing over Mt F’twangi. Soon the dry veldt would boom to the thunder of the rains. Then he reached down and picked up the stick. ‘What’re you doing?’ said Azhural.
M’Bu leaned on the fence and waited.
‘Maybe two hundred, give or take ten,’ said Azhural, throwing down the stick. ‘Nowhere near enough.’
‘You can’t give or take ten elephants, boss,’ said M’Bu firmly. He knew that counting elephants was a precision job. A‘Drawing a map, boss,’ said M’Bu.
Azhural shook his head. ‘Not worth it, boy. Three thousand miles to Ankh, I reckon, I let myself get carried away. Too many miles, not enough elephants.’
‘We could go across the plains, boss,’ said M’Bu. ‘Lot of elephants on the plains man might be uncertain about how many wives he had, but never about elephants. Either you had one, or you didn’t. ‘Our agent in Klatch has an order for’, Azhural swallowed, ‘a thousand elephants. A thousand! Immediately! Cash on delivery!’ Azhural let the paper drop to the ground. ‘To a place called Ankh-Morpork,’ he said despondently. He sighed. ‘It would have been nice,’ he said. M’Bu scratched his head and stared at the hammerhead clouds massing over Mt F’twangi. Soon the dry veldt would boom to the thunder of the rains. Then he reached down and picked up the stick. ‘What’re you doing?’ said Azhural.
2009年3月25日星期三
Johannes Vermeer Girl Reading a Letter at an Open Window
Johannes Vermeer Girl Reading a Letter at an Open WindowGustave Courbet Plage de NormandieThomas Kinkade Town SquareThomas Kinkade PARIS EIFFEL TOWERThomas Kinkade Hometown Pride
box.
It was black. On it, in white, were the words ‘Noe! Noe!’
He walked away. The villain twirled his moustache. The man walked back with a board. This time it said ‘Ahar! My proude beauty!’
Another of the seated watchers picked up a megaphone.
‘Fine, fine,’‘He’s in the offices over there,’ said the man, jerking his thumb over his shoulder without looking around.
‘Thank you.’
The first shed he poked his head into contained nothing but rows of small cages stretching away into the gloom. Indistinct things hurled themselves against the bars he said. ‘OK, take a five minutes break and then everyone back here for the big fight scene.’ The villain untied the girl. They wandered off. The man stopped turning the handle, lit a cigarette, and then opened the top of the box. ‘Everyone get that?’ he said. There was a chorus of squeaks. Victor walked over and tapped the megaphone man on his shoulder. ‘Urgent message for Mr Silverfish?’ he said.
box.
It was black. On it, in white, were the words ‘Noe! Noe!’
He walked away. The villain twirled his moustache. The man walked back with a board. This time it said ‘Ahar! My proude beauty!’
Another of the seated watchers picked up a megaphone.
‘Fine, fine,’‘He’s in the offices over there,’ said the man, jerking his thumb over his shoulder without looking around.
‘Thank you.’
The first shed he poked his head into contained nothing but rows of small cages stretching away into the gloom. Indistinct things hurled themselves against the bars he said. ‘OK, take a five minutes break and then everyone back here for the big fight scene.’ The villain untied the girl. They wandered off. The man stopped turning the handle, lit a cigarette, and then opened the top of the box. ‘Everyone get that?’ he said. There was a chorus of squeaks. Victor walked over and tapped the megaphone man on his shoulder. ‘Urgent message for Mr Silverfish?’ he said.
2009年3月24日星期二
Peter Paul Rubens Samson and Delilah
Peter Paul Rubens Samson and DelilahJohn William Waterhouse Waterhouse NarcissusJohn William Waterhouse The Lady of ShalottJohn William Waterhouse waterhouse OpheliaJohn William Waterhouse Hylas and the Nymphs
a time of crisis, possibly any high-born minister of state would suffice,' she went on.
Dios looked up, his face mirroring the agony of his tendons.
'I see,' he said. 'And who would be high priest then?'
'The gods would choose,' said Koomi.
'I daresay 'Very well, then,' he said. 'I have one final request.'
'Yes?' Koomi's voice had timbre now, it was already a high priest's voice.
'I wish to be interred in the-' Dios began, and was cut off by a murmur from those priests who could look out across the river. All eyes turned to the distant, inky shore.they would,' said Dios sourly. 'I am in some doubt as to the wisdom of their choice.' 'The dead can speak to the gods in the netherworld,' said the priestess. 'But the gods are all here,' said Dios, fighting against the throbbing in his legs, which were insisting that, at this time, they should be walking along the central corridor en route to supervise the Rite of the Under Sky. His body cried out for the solace over the river. And once over the river, never to return . . . but he'd always said that. 'In the absence of the king the high priest performs his duties. Isn't that right, Dios?' said Koomi. It was. It was written. You couldn't rewrite it, once it was written. He'd written it. Long ago. Dios hung his head. This was worse than plumbing, this was worse than anything. And yet, and yet. . . to go across the river . . .
a time of crisis, possibly any high-born minister of state would suffice,' she went on.
Dios looked up, his face mirroring the agony of his tendons.
'I see,' he said. 'And who would be high priest then?'
'The gods would choose,' said Koomi.
'I daresay 'Very well, then,' he said. 'I have one final request.'
'Yes?' Koomi's voice had timbre now, it was already a high priest's voice.
'I wish to be interred in the-' Dios began, and was cut off by a murmur from those priests who could look out across the river. All eyes turned to the distant, inky shore.they would,' said Dios sourly. 'I am in some doubt as to the wisdom of their choice.' 'The dead can speak to the gods in the netherworld,' said the priestess. 'But the gods are all here,' said Dios, fighting against the throbbing in his legs, which were insisting that, at this time, they should be walking along the central corridor en route to supervise the Rite of the Under Sky. His body cried out for the solace over the river. And once over the river, never to return . . . but he'd always said that. 'In the absence of the king the high priest performs his duties. Isn't that right, Dios?' said Koomi. It was. It was written. You couldn't rewrite it, once it was written. He'd written it. Long ago. Dios hung his head. This was worse than plumbing, this was worse than anything. And yet, and yet. . . to go across the river . . .
2009年3月20日星期五
Unknown Artist Red Horizon
Unknown Artist Red HorizonUnknown Artist jasper johns Target with Four FacesSalvador Dali ArgusJohannes Vermeer The Little StreetJohannes Vermeer Mistress and Maid
king craned nearer.
Gern rummaged around at his end of the job and then gave a long, low whistle.
'Will you look at the colour of this!' he said. 'You wouldn't think so, would you? Is it something they eat, master?'
Dil sighed. slightly muffled.
'Our mum said he was all right as a king,' said Gern. 'What do you think?'
Dil paused with a jar in his hand, and seemed to give the conversation some thought for the first time.
'Never think about it until they come down here,' he said. 'I suppose he was better than most. Nice pair of lungs. Clean kidneys. Good big sinuses, which is what I always look for in a king.' He looked down, and delivered his professional judgement. 'Pleasure to work with, really.''Just put it in the pot, Gern.' 'Right you are, master. Master?' 'Yes, lad?' 'Which bit's got the god in it, master?' Dil squinted up the king's nostril, trying to concentrate. 'That gets sorted out before he comes down here,' he said patiently. 'I wondered,' said Gern, 'because there's not a jar for it, see.' 'No. There wouldn't be. It'd have to be a rather strange jar, Gern.' Gern looked a bit disappointed. 'Oh,' he said, 'so he's just ordinary, then, is he?' 'In a strictly organic sense,' said Dil, his voice
king craned nearer.
Gern rummaged around at his end of the job and then gave a long, low whistle.
'Will you look at the colour of this!' he said. 'You wouldn't think so, would you? Is it something they eat, master?'
Dil sighed. slightly muffled.
'Our mum said he was all right as a king,' said Gern. 'What do you think?'
Dil paused with a jar in his hand, and seemed to give the conversation some thought for the first time.
'Never think about it until they come down here,' he said. 'I suppose he was better than most. Nice pair of lungs. Clean kidneys. Good big sinuses, which is what I always look for in a king.' He looked down, and delivered his professional judgement. 'Pleasure to work with, really.''Just put it in the pot, Gern.' 'Right you are, master. Master?' 'Yes, lad?' 'Which bit's got the god in it, master?' Dil squinted up the king's nostril, trying to concentrate. 'That gets sorted out before he comes down here,' he said patiently. 'I wondered,' said Gern, 'because there's not a jar for it, see.' 'No. There wouldn't be. It'd have to be a rather strange jar, Gern.' Gern looked a bit disappointed. 'Oh,' he said, 'so he's just ordinary, then, is he?' 'In a strictly organic sense,' said Dil, his voice
2009年3月19日星期四
Vincent van Gogh Still life with a bottle of lemons and oranges
Vincent van Gogh Still life with a bottle of lemons and orangesVincent van Gogh Self-Portrait with StrawVincent van Gogh Self-Portrait with Felt Hat greyVincent van Gogh Seascape at Saintes-MariesVincent van Gogh Road with Cypresses
'That's where you've been getting it all wrong,' said Granny, 'Destiny is important, see, but people go wrong when they think it controls them. It's the other way around.'
'Bugger destiny,' agreed Nanny.
Granny glared at her.
'After all, you never thought being a witch was going to be easy, did you?'
'I'm learning,' said Magrat. She looked across the moor, where a thin rind of dawn glowed on the horizon.
'I think I'd better be off,' she said. 'It's getting early.'
'Me too,' said Nanny, now.'
'That's nice,' said Granny. 'What about you, Magrat?'
'There always seems to be such a lot to do at this time of year, don't you find?' said Magrat.
'Quite,' said Granny Weatherwax, pleasantly. 'It's no good getting yourself tied down to appointments all the time, is it? Let's just leave the whole question open, shall we?'
They nodded. And, as the new day wound across the landscape, each one busy with her own Ogg. 'Our Shirl frets if I'm not home when she comes to get my breakfast.'Granny carefully scuffed over the remains of the fire.'When shall we three meet again?' she said. 'Hmm?'The witches looked at one another sheepishly.'I'm a bit busy next month,' said Nanny. 'Birthdays and such. Er. And the work has really been piling up with all this hurly-burly. You know. And there's all the ghosts to think about.''I thought you sent them back to the castle,' said Granny.'Well, they didn't want to go,' said Nanny vaguely. 'To be honest, I've got used to them around the place. They're company of an evening. They hardly scream at all
'That's where you've been getting it all wrong,' said Granny, 'Destiny is important, see, but people go wrong when they think it controls them. It's the other way around.'
'Bugger destiny,' agreed Nanny.
Granny glared at her.
'After all, you never thought being a witch was going to be easy, did you?'
'I'm learning,' said Magrat. She looked across the moor, where a thin rind of dawn glowed on the horizon.
'I think I'd better be off,' she said. 'It's getting early.'
'Me too,' said Nanny, now.'
'That's nice,' said Granny. 'What about you, Magrat?'
'There always seems to be such a lot to do at this time of year, don't you find?' said Magrat.
'Quite,' said Granny Weatherwax, pleasantly. 'It's no good getting yourself tied down to appointments all the time, is it? Let's just leave the whole question open, shall we?'
They nodded. And, as the new day wound across the landscape, each one busy with her own Ogg. 'Our Shirl frets if I'm not home when she comes to get my breakfast.'Granny carefully scuffed over the remains of the fire.'When shall we three meet again?' she said. 'Hmm?'The witches looked at one another sheepishly.'I'm a bit busy next month,' said Nanny. 'Birthdays and such. Er. And the work has really been piling up with all this hurly-burly. You know. And there's all the ghosts to think about.''I thought you sent them back to the castle,' said Granny.'Well, they didn't want to go,' said Nanny vaguely. 'To be honest, I've got used to them around the place. They're company of an evening. They hardly scream at all
2009年3月17日星期二
George Bellows Polo Crowd
George Bellows Polo CrowdGeorge Bellows Gull Rock and WhiteheadGeorge Bellows Fog RainbowGeorge Bellows Both Members of This ClubGeorge Bellows Anne in White
Theft Licence"?' said Tomjon, holding the card up to the light.
'That's right,' said the leader of the three. 'Only don't expect us to do you too, 'cos we're on our way home.'
'S'right,' said one of his assistants. 'It's the thingy, the quota.'
'But you were kicking him!'
'Worl, not a lot. Not what you'd call actual kicking.'
'More foot nudging, sort of thing,' said the third thief.
'Fair's fair. He bloody well went and fetched Ron here a right thump, didn't he?'
'Yeah. Some people have no idea.'
'Why, you heartless—' Hwel began, but Tomjon laid a cautioning hand on his head. The boy turned the card over. feet.
'In order?' he shouted. 'To rob someone?'
'We'll give him a chitty, of The obverse read: J. H. 'Flannelfoot' Boggis and NephewsBespoke Thieves'The Old Firm'(Estblshd AM 1789)All type Theft carryed out Professionly andwith DisgressionHouses cleared. 24-hr service. No job too small.LET US QUOTE YOU FOR OUR FAMILY RATE 'It seems to be in order,' he said reluctantly.Hwel paused in the act of helping the dazed victim to his
Theft Licence"?' said Tomjon, holding the card up to the light.
'That's right,' said the leader of the three. 'Only don't expect us to do you too, 'cos we're on our way home.'
'S'right,' said one of his assistants. 'It's the thingy, the quota.'
'But you were kicking him!'
'Worl, not a lot. Not what you'd call actual kicking.'
'More foot nudging, sort of thing,' said the third thief.
'Fair's fair. He bloody well went and fetched Ron here a right thump, didn't he?'
'Yeah. Some people have no idea.'
'Why, you heartless—' Hwel began, but Tomjon laid a cautioning hand on his head. The boy turned the card over. feet.
'In order?' he shouted. 'To rob someone?'
'We'll give him a chitty, of The obverse read: J. H. 'Flannelfoot' Boggis and NephewsBespoke Thieves'The Old Firm'(Estblshd AM 1789)All type Theft carryed out Professionly andwith DisgressionHouses cleared. 24-hr service. No job too small.LET US QUOTE YOU FOR OUR FAMILY RATE 'It seems to be in order,' he said reluctantly.Hwel paused in the act of helping the dazed victim to his
2009年3月16日星期一
Thomas Gainsborough Cottage Girl with Dog and Pitcher
Thomas Gainsborough Cottage Girl with Dog and PitcherAlexandre Cabanel The Birth of VenusSandro Botticelli The Story of Nastagio degli OnestiSandro Botticelli The Cestello AnnunciationSandro Botticelli Pallas and the Centaur
'There's a cart coming, Granny.'
Granny Weatherwax shrugged. 'What you youngsters don't realise—' she began.
Witches never bothered with elementary road safety. Such traffic as there was on the roads of Lancre either went around them or, if this was not possible, waited until they moved out of the way. Granny Weatherwax had grown 'He ran us down!' said Granny.
'You could have got out of the way,' said Magrat.
'Get out of the way?' said Granny. 'We're witches! People get out of our way!' She squelched on to the track, her finger still pointing at the distant cart. 'By Hoki, I'll make him wish he'd never been born—'up knowing this for a fact; the only reason she didn't die knowing that it wasn't was that Magrat, with rather better reflexes, dragged her into the ditch.It was an interesting ditch. There were jiggling corkscrew things in it which were direct descendants of things which had been in the primordial soup of creation. Anyone who thought that ditchwater was dull could have spent an instructive half-hour in that ditch with a powerful microscope. It also had nettles in it, and now it had Granny Weatherwax.She struggled up through the weeds, incoherent with rage, and rose from the ditch like Venus Anadyomene, only older and with more duckweed.'T-t-t,' she said, pointing a shaking finger at the disappearing cart.'It was young Nesheley from over Inkcap way,' said Nanny Ogg, from a nearby bush. 'His family were always a bit wild. Of course, his mother was a Whipple.'
'There's a cart coming, Granny.'
Granny Weatherwax shrugged. 'What you youngsters don't realise—' she began.
Witches never bothered with elementary road safety. Such traffic as there was on the roads of Lancre either went around them or, if this was not possible, waited until they moved out of the way. Granny Weatherwax had grown 'He ran us down!' said Granny.
'You could have got out of the way,' said Magrat.
'Get out of the way?' said Granny. 'We're witches! People get out of our way!' She squelched on to the track, her finger still pointing at the distant cart. 'By Hoki, I'll make him wish he'd never been born—'up knowing this for a fact; the only reason she didn't die knowing that it wasn't was that Magrat, with rather better reflexes, dragged her into the ditch.It was an interesting ditch. There were jiggling corkscrew things in it which were direct descendants of things which had been in the primordial soup of creation. Anyone who thought that ditchwater was dull could have spent an instructive half-hour in that ditch with a powerful microscope. It also had nettles in it, and now it had Granny Weatherwax.She struggled up through the weeds, incoherent with rage, and rose from the ditch like Venus Anadyomene, only older and with more duckweed.'T-t-t,' she said, pointing a shaking finger at the disappearing cart.'It was young Nesheley from over Inkcap way,' said Nanny Ogg, from a nearby bush. 'His family were always a bit wild. Of course, his mother was a Whipple.'
2009年3月15日星期日
Marc Chagall Rain
Marc Chagall RainMarc Chagall Blue LoversMarc Chagall The ConcertPaul Gauguin When Will You MarryPaul Gauguin What Are You Jealous
, at least I can say that I—' Nanny began.
Both voices faded to a mutter. There was a long edgy silence.
'I think,' said Magrat, with brittle brightness, 'that perhaps it would be a good idea if we all go back to our little cottages and do it in our own way. You know. Separately. It's been a long day and we're all rather tired.'
'Good idea,' said Granny firmly, and stood up. 'Come, Nanny Ogg,' she snapped. 'It's been a long day and we're all rather tired.'
Magrat heard them bickering as they wandered down the path.
She sat rather sadly amidst the coloured candles, holding a small bottle of extremely thaumaturgical incense that she .
'He'll always remember the words.'had ordered from a magical supplies emporium in faraway Ankh-Morpork. She had been rather looking forward to trying it. Sometimes, she thought, it would be nice if people could be a bit kinder . . .She stared at the ball.Well, she could make a start.'He will make friends easily,' she whispered. It wasn't much, she knew, but it was something she'd never been able to get the hang of.Nanny Ogg, sitting alone in her kitchen with her huge tomcat curled up on her lap, poured herself a nightcap and through the haze tried to remember the words of verse seventeen of the Hedgehog song. There was something about goats, she recalled, but the details eluded her. Time abraded memory.She toasted the invisible presence.'A bloody good memory is what he ought to have,' she said
, at least I can say that I—' Nanny began.
Both voices faded to a mutter. There was a long edgy silence.
'I think,' said Magrat, with brittle brightness, 'that perhaps it would be a good idea if we all go back to our little cottages and do it in our own way. You know. Separately. It's been a long day and we're all rather tired.'
'Good idea,' said Granny firmly, and stood up. 'Come, Nanny Ogg,' she snapped. 'It's been a long day and we're all rather tired.'
Magrat heard them bickering as they wandered down the path.
She sat rather sadly amidst the coloured candles, holding a small bottle of extremely thaumaturgical incense that she .
'He'll always remember the words.'had ordered from a magical supplies emporium in faraway Ankh-Morpork. She had been rather looking forward to trying it. Sometimes, she thought, it would be nice if people could be a bit kinder . . .She stared at the ball.Well, she could make a start.'He will make friends easily,' she whispered. It wasn't much, she knew, but it was something she'd never been able to get the hang of.Nanny Ogg, sitting alone in her kitchen with her huge tomcat curled up on her lap, poured herself a nightcap and through the haze tried to remember the words of verse seventeen of the Hedgehog song. There was something about goats, she recalled, but the details eluded her. Time abraded memory.She toasted the invisible presence.'A bloody good memory is what he ought to have,' she said
2009年3月12日星期四
John William Waterhouse Nymphs Finding the Head of Orpheus
John William Waterhouse Nymphs Finding the Head of OrpheusJohn William Waterhouse JulietJohn William Waterhouse Flora and the Zephyrs
, I suppose there must be such things as young wizards,' she said over her shoulder. 'It's just that people always think of them as old. I wonder why this is?'
'Rigours of , 'It was decided for me, you know.'
'Sorry, I —'
'Being royal is a sort of family tradition. I expect it's the same with magic; no doubt your father was a wizard?'
Cutwell gritted his teeth. 'Um. No,' he said, 'not really. Absolutely not, in fact.'
He knew what she would say next, and here it came, reliable as the the calling, ma'am,' said Cutwell, rolling his eyes. He could hear the rustle of silk.'What made you decide to become a wizard?' Her voice was muffled, as if she had something over her head.'It's indoor work with no heavy lifting,' said Cutwell. 'And I suppose I wanted to learn how the world worked.''Have you succeeded, then?''No.' Cutwell wasn't much good at small talk, otherwise he'd never have let his mind wander sufficiently to allow him to say: 'What made you decide to become a princess?'After a thoughtful silence she said
, I suppose there must be such things as young wizards,' she said over her shoulder. 'It's just that people always think of them as old. I wonder why this is?'
'Rigours of , 'It was decided for me, you know.'
'Sorry, I —'
'Being royal is a sort of family tradition. I expect it's the same with magic; no doubt your father was a wizard?'
Cutwell gritted his teeth. 'Um. No,' he said, 'not really. Absolutely not, in fact.'
He knew what she would say next, and here it came, reliable as the the calling, ma'am,' said Cutwell, rolling his eyes. He could hear the rustle of silk.'What made you decide to become a wizard?' Her voice was muffled, as if she had something over her head.'It's indoor work with no heavy lifting,' said Cutwell. 'And I suppose I wanted to learn how the world worked.''Have you succeeded, then?''No.' Cutwell wasn't much good at small talk, otherwise he'd never have let his mind wander sufficiently to allow him to say: 'What made you decide to become a princess?'After a thoughtful silence she said
Claude Monet Bank of the Seine Vetheuil
Claude Monet Bank of the Seine VetheuilClaude Monet Autumn at ArgenteuilRene Magritte Woman Bathing
The eerie, unreal feeling soon spread throughout the castle. The head coachman ordered the state bier to be brought out again and polished, and then stood in the stable yard and wept into his chamois leather because he couldn't swept into the great hall and found no place had been set in front of the royal chair. By speaking loudly and distinctly to the butler she managed to get that rectified, then saw dishes being passed in front of her before she could get a fork into them. She watched in sullen disbelief as the wine was brought in and poured first for the Lord of the Privy Closet.
It was an unregal thing to do, but she stuck out a foot and tripped the wine waiter. He remember why. Servants walked softly along the corridors. The cook had to fight an overpowering urge to prepare simple banquets of cold meat. Dogs howled and then stopped, feeling rather stupid. The two black stallions who traditionally pulled the Sto Lat funeral cortege grew restive in their stalls and nearly kicked a groom to death.In his castle in Sto Helit, the duke waited in vain for a messenger who had in fact set out, but had stopped halfway down the street, unable to remember what it was he was supposed to be doing.Through all this Keli moved like a solid and increasingly more irritated ghost.Things came to a head at lunchtime. She
The eerie, unreal feeling soon spread throughout the castle. The head coachman ordered the state bier to be brought out again and polished, and then stood in the stable yard and wept into his chamois leather because he couldn't swept into the great hall and found no place had been set in front of the royal chair. By speaking loudly and distinctly to the butler she managed to get that rectified, then saw dishes being passed in front of her before she could get a fork into them. She watched in sullen disbelief as the wine was brought in and poured first for the Lord of the Privy Closet.
It was an unregal thing to do, but she stuck out a foot and tripped the wine waiter. He remember why. Servants walked softly along the corridors. The cook had to fight an overpowering urge to prepare simple banquets of cold meat. Dogs howled and then stopped, feeling rather stupid. The two black stallions who traditionally pulled the Sto Lat funeral cortege grew restive in their stalls and nearly kicked a groom to death.In his castle in Sto Helit, the duke waited in vain for a messenger who had in fact set out, but had stopped halfway down the street, unable to remember what it was he was supposed to be doing.Through all this Keli moved like a solid and increasingly more irritated ghost.Things came to a head at lunchtime. She
2009年3月11日星期三
Edgar Degas Four Dancers
Edgar Degas Four DancersFrida Kahlo Viva la vidaFrida Kahlo The Two Fridas
geological pimple. It was one huge rock from the distant Ramtops, Death said, left there by the retreating ice in the legendary days when the Ice Giants waged war on the gods and rode their glaciers across the land in an attempt to ?' he said, as they strolled to a stairwell.
Death shook his head.
WOULD YOU BELIEVE THERE COULD BE A HORSE AT THE TOP OF THIS TOWER? he Said.
'No. You couldn't get one up these stairs,' said Mort.
WELL, THEN?
'Oh. I see. People don't want to see what can't possibly exist.'
WELL DONE. freeze the whole world. They'd given up in the end, however, and driven their great glittering flocks back to their hidden lands among the razor-backed mountains near the Hub. No-one on the plains knew why they had done this; it was generally considered by the younger generation in the city of Sto Lat, the city around the rock, that it was because the place was dead boring.Binky trotted down over nothingness and touched down on the flagstones of the castle's topmost tower. Death dismounted and told Mort to sort out the nosebag.'Won't people notice there's a horse up here
geological pimple. It was one huge rock from the distant Ramtops, Death said, left there by the retreating ice in the legendary days when the Ice Giants waged war on the gods and rode their glaciers across the land in an attempt to ?' he said, as they strolled to a stairwell.
Death shook his head.
WOULD YOU BELIEVE THERE COULD BE A HORSE AT THE TOP OF THIS TOWER? he Said.
'No. You couldn't get one up these stairs,' said Mort.
WELL, THEN?
'Oh. I see. People don't want to see what can't possibly exist.'
WELL DONE. freeze the whole world. They'd given up in the end, however, and driven their great glittering flocks back to their hidden lands among the razor-backed mountains near the Hub. No-one on the plains knew why they had done this; it was generally considered by the younger generation in the city of Sto Lat, the city around the rock, that it was because the place was dead boring.Binky trotted down over nothingness and touched down on the flagstones of the castle's topmost tower. Death dismounted and told Mort to sort out the nosebag.'Won't people notice there's a horse up here
2009年3月9日星期一
Salvador Dali Mirage
Salvador Dali MirageSalvador Dali Melting WatchSalvador Dali Dream Caused by the Flight of a Bee around a Pomegranate
You're only putting off the inevitable," it said.
"Suits me."
"We could take it anyway."
"Take it, then. But I don't think you can. You can't take anything unless it's given to you, can you?"
They circled round.
"You'll give it to us," said the Simon-thing.
Some of the other Things were approaching now, striding back across the desert with horrible jerky motions. Esk glanced sideways at the distant mountains, sprawled on the chilly horizon like melted mud pies. There were no trees, not even any rocks. Just sand and cold stars and
She felt the movement rather than heard it and turned with the pyramid held between her hands like a club. It hit the Simon-thing in mid-leap with a satisfying thump, but as soon as it hit the ground it somersaulted forward and bounced upright with unpleasant ease. But it had heard her gasp and "You'll get tired," it continued. "We can wait. We're very good at waiting." It made a feint to the left, but Esk swung around to face it. "That doesn't matter," she said. "I'm only dreaming this, and you can't get hurt in dreams." The Thing paused, and looked at her with its empty eyes. "Have you got a word in your world, I think it's called 'psychosomatic'?" "Never heard of it," snapped Esk. "It means you can get hurt in your dreams. And what is so interesting is that if you die in your dreams you stay here. That would be niiiiice."
You're only putting off the inevitable," it said.
"Suits me."
"We could take it anyway."
"Take it, then. But I don't think you can. You can't take anything unless it's given to you, can you?"
They circled round.
"You'll give it to us," said the Simon-thing.
Some of the other Things were approaching now, striding back across the desert with horrible jerky motions. Esk glanced sideways at the distant mountains, sprawled on the chilly horizon like melted mud pies. There were no trees, not even any rocks. Just sand and cold stars and
She felt the movement rather than heard it and turned with the pyramid held between her hands like a club. It hit the Simon-thing in mid-leap with a satisfying thump, but as soon as it hit the ground it somersaulted forward and bounced upright with unpleasant ease. But it had heard her gasp and "You'll get tired," it continued. "We can wait. We're very good at waiting." It made a feint to the left, but Esk swung around to face it. "That doesn't matter," she said. "I'm only dreaming this, and you can't get hurt in dreams." The Thing paused, and looked at her with its empty eyes. "Have you got a word in your world, I think it's called 'psychosomatic'?" "Never heard of it," snapped Esk. "It means you can get hurt in your dreams. And what is so interesting is that if you die in your dreams you stay here. That would be niiiiice."
Thomas Kinkade Clearing Storms
Thomas Kinkade Clearing StormsThomas Kinkade Bridge of FaithThomas Kinkade Autumn Lane
He took a small red stone from a tiny velvet pouch. Amschat hardly looked at it but, without taking his eyes off the man, passed it down to Esk. She nodded.
When the merchant had hurried off Amschat took Esk's hand and half-dragged her to the assayer's stall, which was little out another Look.
"- I would offer you, shall we say, two zats of silver?"
"Shall we say five?" said Amschat pleasantly.
"And I would like to keep one of the stones," said Esk. The old man threw up his hands.
"But they are mere curios!" he said. "Of value only to a collector!"
"A collector may yet sell them to an unsuspecting purchaser as finest roseattes more than a niche in the wall. The old man took the smallest of the blue stones, listened to Amschat's hurried explanation, poured out a saucerful of hypactic fluid and dropped the stone in. It frothed into nothingness. "Very interesting," he said. He took another stone in a tweezer and examined it under a glass. "They are indeed spircles, but remarkably fine specimens in their own right," he concluded. "They are by no means worthless, and I for example would be prepared to offer you - is there something wrong with the little girl's eyes?" Amschat nudged Esk, who stopped trying
He took a small red stone from a tiny velvet pouch. Amschat hardly looked at it but, without taking his eyes off the man, passed it down to Esk. She nodded.
When the merchant had hurried off Amschat took Esk's hand and half-dragged her to the assayer's stall, which was little out another Look.
"- I would offer you, shall we say, two zats of silver?"
"Shall we say five?" said Amschat pleasantly.
"And I would like to keep one of the stones," said Esk. The old man threw up his hands.
"But they are mere curios!" he said. "Of value only to a collector!"
"A collector may yet sell them to an unsuspecting purchaser as finest roseattes more than a niche in the wall. The old man took the smallest of the blue stones, listened to Amschat's hurried explanation, poured out a saucerful of hypactic fluid and dropped the stone in. It frothed into nothingness. "Very interesting," he said. He took another stone in a tweezer and examined it under a glass. "They are indeed spircles, but remarkably fine specimens in their own right," he concluded. "They are by no means worthless, and I for example would be prepared to offer you - is there something wrong with the little girl's eyes?" Amschat nudged Esk, who stopped trying
2009年3月5日星期四
Thomas Kinkade The Night Before Christmas
Thomas Kinkade The Night Before ChristmasThomas Kinkade The Good LifeThomas Kinkade Stairway to Paradise
The light was starting to pour out of the sky by the time they dug through to the door and managed to persuade the key to turn.
Inside, the big kitchen was dark and chilly and smelled only of snow. It was always dark, but they were used to seeing a big fire in the wide chimney and smelling the thick fumes of whatever it was she was boiling up this timefloor and over the bed.
Esk stared at the patchwork quilt under the old woman, because there were times when a little detail could expand and fill the whole world. She barely heard Cern start to cry: she remembered lien father, strangely enough, making the quilt two winters before when the snow was almost as bad and there wasn't much to do in the forge, and how he'd used all kinds of rags that had found their way to Bad Ass from every part of the world, like silk, dilemma leather, water cotton and tharga wool and, of course, since he wasn't much good at sewing either, the result was a, which sometimes gave you a headache or made you see things. They wandered around uncertainly, calling, until Esk decided they couldn't put off going upstairs any longer. The clonk of the thumb-latch on the door to the cramped staircase sounded a lot louder than it ought to. Granny was on the bed, with her arms tightly folded across her chest. The tiny window had blown open. Fine snow had blown in across the
The light was starting to pour out of the sky by the time they dug through to the door and managed to persuade the key to turn.
Inside, the big kitchen was dark and chilly and smelled only of snow. It was always dark, but they were used to seeing a big fire in the wide chimney and smelling the thick fumes of whatever it was she was boiling up this timefloor and over the bed.
Esk stared at the patchwork quilt under the old woman, because there were times when a little detail could expand and fill the whole world. She barely heard Cern start to cry: she remembered lien father, strangely enough, making the quilt two winters before when the snow was almost as bad and there wasn't much to do in the forge, and how he'd used all kinds of rags that had found their way to Bad Ass from every part of the world, like silk, dilemma leather, water cotton and tharga wool and, of course, since he wasn't much good at sewing either, the result was a, which sometimes gave you a headache or made you see things. They wandered around uncertainly, calling, until Esk decided they couldn't put off going upstairs any longer. The clonk of the thumb-latch on the door to the cramped staircase sounded a lot louder than it ought to. Granny was on the bed, with her arms tightly folded across her chest. The tiny window had blown open. Fine snow had blown in across the
2009年3月4日星期三
Dirck Bouts The Meeting of Abraham and Melchizedek
Dirck Bouts The Meeting of Abraham and MelchizedekFrederic Edwin Church SunsetFrederic Edwin Church AutumnLorenzo Lotto St Catherine of Alexandria
'And whining,' said Bethan. They all looked at her.
'Well, it looked as if it was whining,' she said. 'I think it's rather sweet, really.'
Four pairs of eyes turned towards the Luggage, which was squatting on the other side of the fire. It got up, and very pointedly moved back into the shadows.
'Eashy to feed,' said Cohen.
'Hard to lose,' agreed Rincewind.
'Loyal,' suggested Twoflower.
'Roomy,' said Cohen.
'But I wouldn't say sweet,' said Rincewind.
'I his head. 'I don't think it would understand,' he said.
'No, I Twoflower said brightly, 'This calls for a celebration. I've got some biscuits and water, if you've still got some of that jerky.'
'Oh, good,' said Rincewind weakly. He beckoned Cohen to oneshupposhe not,' said Cohen. He sat up, and bit his lip. 'I wash looking for a preshent for Bethan, you shee. We're getting married.''We thought you ought to be the first to know,' said Bethan, and blushed.Rincewind didn't catch Twoflower's eye.'Well, that's very, er —''Just as soon as we find a town where there's a priest,' said Bethan. 'I want it done properly.''That's very important,' said Twoflower seriously. 'If there were more morals about we wouldn't be crashing into stars.'They considered this for a moment. Then
'And whining,' said Bethan. They all looked at her.
'Well, it looked as if it was whining,' she said. 'I think it's rather sweet, really.'
Four pairs of eyes turned towards the Luggage, which was squatting on the other side of the fire. It got up, and very pointedly moved back into the shadows.
'Eashy to feed,' said Cohen.
'Hard to lose,' agreed Rincewind.
'Loyal,' suggested Twoflower.
'Roomy,' said Cohen.
'But I wouldn't say sweet,' said Rincewind.
'I his head. 'I don't think it would understand,' he said.
'No, I Twoflower said brightly, 'This calls for a celebration. I've got some biscuits and water, if you've still got some of that jerky.'
'Oh, good,' said Rincewind weakly. He beckoned Cohen to oneshupposhe not,' said Cohen. He sat up, and bit his lip. 'I wash looking for a preshent for Bethan, you shee. We're getting married.''We thought you ought to be the first to know,' said Bethan, and blushed.Rincewind didn't catch Twoflower's eye.'Well, that's very, er —''Just as soon as we find a town where there's a priest,' said Bethan. 'I want it done properly.''That's very important,' said Twoflower seriously. 'If there were more morals about we wouldn't be crashing into stars.'They considered this for a moment. Then
2009年3月3日星期二
Thomas Moran Cliffs of Green River
Thomas Moran Cliffs of Green RiverThomas Moran Autumn LandscapeThomas Moran Chicago World's FairThomas Moran A View of Venice
was the Egg,' corrected another voice. 'I distinctly remember. The Great Egg of the Universe. Slightly rubbery.'
'You're both wrong, in fact. I'm sure it was the primordial slime.'
A voice by Rincewind's knee said: 'No, that came afterwards. There was firmament first. Lots of firmament. Rather sticky, like candyfloss. Very syrupy, in fact—.'
'In case anyone's interested,' said a crackly voice on Rincewind's left, 'you're all wrong. In the beginning was the Clearing of the Throat—'
'—then the word—'
'Pardon me, the slime—'
'Distinctly rubbery, I thought—'
There was a pause. Then a voice said carefully, 'Anyway, whatever it was, we remember it distinctly.'
'Quite so.'
'Exactly.'
'And our what the tracery was, seen from underneath.
'I'm in the Octavo?' he said.
'In certain metaphysical respects,' said one of the voices in offhand tones. It came closer. He could feel the dry rustling right in front of his nose . . .
He ran away.
The single red dot glowed in its patch of darkness. Trymon, still task is to see that nothing dreadful happens to it, Rincewind.'Rincewind squinted into the blackness. 'Would you kindly explain what you're talking about?'There was a papery sigh. 'So much for metaphor,' said one of the voices. 'Look, it is very important you safeguard the Spell in your head and bring it back to us at the right time, you understand, so that when the moment is precisely right we can be said. Do you understand?'Rincewind thought: we can be said!And it dawned on him
was the Egg,' corrected another voice. 'I distinctly remember. The Great Egg of the Universe. Slightly rubbery.'
'You're both wrong, in fact. I'm sure it was the primordial slime.'
A voice by Rincewind's knee said: 'No, that came afterwards. There was firmament first. Lots of firmament. Rather sticky, like candyfloss. Very syrupy, in fact—.'
'In case anyone's interested,' said a crackly voice on Rincewind's left, 'you're all wrong. In the beginning was the Clearing of the Throat—'
'—then the word—'
'Pardon me, the slime—'
'Distinctly rubbery, I thought—'
There was a pause. Then a voice said carefully, 'Anyway, whatever it was, we remember it distinctly.'
'Quite so.'
'Exactly.'
'And our what the tracery was, seen from underneath.
'I'm in the Octavo?' he said.
'In certain metaphysical respects,' said one of the voices in offhand tones. It came closer. He could feel the dry rustling right in front of his nose . . .
He ran away.
The single red dot glowed in its patch of darkness. Trymon, still task is to see that nothing dreadful happens to it, Rincewind.'Rincewind squinted into the blackness. 'Would you kindly explain what you're talking about?'There was a papery sigh. 'So much for metaphor,' said one of the voices. 'Look, it is very important you safeguard the Spell in your head and bring it back to us at the right time, you understand, so that when the moment is precisely right we can be said. Do you understand?'Rincewind thought: we can be said!And it dawned on him
2009年3月2日星期一
Salvador Dali Asummpta Corpuscularia Lapislazulina
Salvador Dali Asummpta Corpuscularia LapislazulinaJohn Singer Sargent A Morning Walk ladyJohn Singer Sargent The Chess GameJohn Singer Sargent The Breakfast Table
master. He weighed very little and, although He often rode back with His saddlebags bulging, they weighed nothing whatsoever.
"All those worlds!" said Twoflower. "It's fantastic!"
mighty scale and cratered pock-mark meticulously marked in. Twoflower stared about him with a faraway look in his eyes.
Rincewind was deeply troubled. What troubled him most of all were the two suits that hung from supports in the centre of the room. He circled them uneasily.
They appeared to be made of fine white leather, hung about with straps and brass nozzles and other highly unfamiliar and suspicious contrivances. The leggings ended Rincewind grunted, and continued to prowl warily around the star-filled room. Twoflower turned to a complicated astrolabe, in the centre of which was the entire Great A'Tuin-Elephant-Disc system wrought in brass and picked out with tiny jewels. Around it stars and planets wheeled on fine silver wires."Fantastic!" he said again. On the walls around him constellations made of tiny phosphorescent seed pearls had been picked out on vast tapestries made of jet-black velvet, giving the room's occupants the impression of floating in the interstellar gulf. Various easels held huge sketches of Great A'Tuin as viewed from various parts of the Circumfence, with every
master. He weighed very little and, although He often rode back with His saddlebags bulging, they weighed nothing whatsoever.
"All those worlds!" said Twoflower. "It's fantastic!"
mighty scale and cratered pock-mark meticulously marked in. Twoflower stared about him with a faraway look in his eyes.
Rincewind was deeply troubled. What troubled him most of all were the two suits that hung from supports in the centre of the room. He circled them uneasily.
They appeared to be made of fine white leather, hung about with straps and brass nozzles and other highly unfamiliar and suspicious contrivances. The leggings ended Rincewind grunted, and continued to prowl warily around the star-filled room. Twoflower turned to a complicated astrolabe, in the centre of which was the entire Great A'Tuin-Elephant-Disc system wrought in brass and picked out with tiny jewels. Around it stars and planets wheeled on fine silver wires."Fantastic!" he said again. On the walls around him constellations made of tiny phosphorescent seed pearls had been picked out on vast tapestries made of jet-black velvet, giving the room's occupants the impression of floating in the interstellar gulf. Various easels held huge sketches of Great A'Tuin as viewed from various parts of the Circumfence, with every
2009年3月1日星期日
John Collier A Devonshire Orchard
John Collier A Devonshire OrchardCao Yong Red UmbrellaCao Yong GARDEN BEAUTIESCao Yong Freedom
they trotted smartly through the doorway.
"Hey," said Twoflower, as they hurried down the corridor outside, "where" (as they stopped in front of another door) "is my" (as they dragged the door open) "Luggage?" He landed in a heap of what might once have been straw.
"Good fighters, are they?"
"Renowned."
"So in return for all this...?"
"You will wed me and become Lord of the Wyrmberg."
There was a long pause. Hrun's eyebrows twisted themselves in unaccustomed calculation.The door banged shut, its echoes punctuated by the sound of bolts being slammed Home.In the other cell Hrun had barely blinked."Okay," he said, "what is the second test?""You must kill my two brothers." Hrun considered this."Both at the same time, or one after the other?" he said."Consecutively or concurrently," she assured him"What?""Just kill them," she said sharply
they trotted smartly through the doorway.
"Hey," said Twoflower, as they hurried down the corridor outside, "where" (as they stopped in front of another door) "is my" (as they dragged the door open) "Luggage?" He landed in a heap of what might once have been straw.
"Good fighters, are they?"
"Renowned."
"So in return for all this...?"
"You will wed me and become Lord of the Wyrmberg."
There was a long pause. Hrun's eyebrows twisted themselves in unaccustomed calculation.The door banged shut, its echoes punctuated by the sound of bolts being slammed Home.In the other cell Hrun had barely blinked."Okay," he said, "what is the second test?""You must kill my two brothers." Hrun considered this."Both at the same time, or one after the other?" he said."Consecutively or concurrently," she assured him"What?""Just kill them," she said sharply
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