Alphonse Maria Mucha The Judgement of Paris

Alphonse Maria Mucha The Judgement of ParisAlphonse Maria Mucha Savonnerie de BagnoletAlphonse Maria Mucha North StarAlphonse Maria Mucha Moet and Chandon White StarAlphonse Maria Mucha Lance Parfum Rodo
mean, take this Blown Away thing,’ said Silverfish. ‘It’s not even real. It’s not like things really were. It’s just lies. Anyone can tell lies.’
‘Yeah,’ said Detritus. ‘Like, she say, Girl want music under window, I play music under window, everyone in street wake up and shouting out of house, You bad troll, what you hitting rocks this time of night? And she never even wake up.’
‘Yeah,’kept getting the feeling that he was serving an extra drink, and even getting paid for it, and even talking to the mysterious purchaser. But he couldn’t see him. In fact he wasn’t quite sure what he was seeing, or who he was talking to.
He wandered down to the far end of the bar. said Silverfish.‘Yeah,’ said Detritus.‘Yeah,’ said the voice under the stool.The man who ran the bar was naturally cheerful. It wasn’t hard to be cheerful, really, when your customers acted like lightning rods for any misery that happened to be floating around. He’d found that it wasn’t a good idea to say things like, ‘Never mind, look on the bright side,’ because there never was one, or ‘Cheer up, it may never happen,’ because often it already had. All that was expected of him was to keep the drink coming.He was a little puzzled this morning, though. There seemed to be an extra person in the bar, quite apart from whoever it was speaking up from the floor. He

Thomas Gainsborough River Landscape

Thomas Gainsborough River LandscapeThomas Gainsborough Mary Countess of HoweThomas Gainsborough John PlampinThomas Gainsborough Evening Landscape Peasants and Mounted FiguresThomas Gainsborough Conversation in a Park
Fifteenth knight along! Yes, you! Would you mind unfurling your banner, please? Thank you. Could you please report to Mrs Cosmopilite for a new one. Thank you.’
Soll turned to his uncle, his eyebrows raised.
‘It’s . . . it’s a heraldic device,’ said Dibbler quickly.
‘Crossed spare just film the clock hands moving fast . . .
In Unseen University, the resograph is already recording seven pubs a minute.

And, towards the end of the afternoon, they burned Ankh­-Morpork.
The real city had been burned down many times in its long history ‑ out of revenge, or ribs on a bed of lettuce?’ said Soll.‘Very keen on their food, those old knights‑‘‘And I liked the motto,’ said Soll. ‘ "Every (k)night is Gormay Night At Harga’s House of Ribs." If we had sound, I wonder what his battle cry would have been?’‘You’re my own flesh and blood,’ said Dibbler, shaking his head. ‘How can you do this to me?’‘Because I’m your own flesh and blood,’ said Soll.Dibbler brightened. Of course, when you looked at it like that, it didn’t seem so bad. This is Holy Wood. To pass the time quickly, you

George Frederick Watts Creation

George Frederick Watts CreationUnknown Artist Venice Grand CanalUnknown Artist Grand Canal sceneCarl Fredrik Aagard Lodge on Lake ComoCarl Fredrik Aagard Amalfi dia Cappuccini
It takes a massive amount of power to create that amount of energy. You’d have to be a pretty good wizard to make a loaf that’d last in this world for more than a tiny part of a second. But that’s not what magic is really about, you see,’ he added quickly, ‘because this world is-’
‘Who cares. Why’s he so interested in the damn thing, anyway? Wretched pot! ‘Coming, Master,’ he trilled.
The Archchancellor’s desk was covered with ancient documents.
When a wizard died, all his papers were stored in one of the outlying reaches?’ said Ginger. ‘Holy Wood’s really doing things for ordinary people. Silver screen magic.’ ‘What’s come over you? Last night–’‘That was then,’ said Ginger impatiently. ‘Don’t you see? We could be going somewhere. We could be becoming someone. Because of Holy Wood. The world is our-’ ‘Lobster,’ said Victor. She waved a hand irritably. ‘Any shellfish you like,’ she said. ‘I was thinking of oysters, actually.’ ‘Were you? I was thinking of lobsters.’ ‘Bursaar!’ I shouldn’t have to run around like this at my age, thought the Bursar, scurrying down the corridor in answer to the Archchancellor’s bellow

Fabian Perez Tango

Fabian Perez TangoFabian Perez FlamencoFabian Perez Flamenco DancerJohannes Vermeer Girl with a Red HatDiane Romanello Windsong
What’s we want to swaller people for? We always spit out the bits. And anyway we’re retired from all that now,’ he added quickly. ‘Not that we ever did it.’ He nudged Victor in a friendly fashion, nearly breaking one of his ribs. ‘It’s good here,’ he said conspiratorially. ‘We get three dollars a day plus a dollar barrier cream trying to help, but the basic economics–’
Silverfish and Dibbler started to argue. Gaffer the handleman sighed and took the back off the moving-picture-box to feed and water the demons, who were complaining.
Victor leaned on his sword.
‘Do a lot of this sort of thing, do you?’ he said to the trolls. allowance for daylight working.’ ‘On account of turning to stone until nightfall otherwise, what is a pain,’ said his companion. ‘Yeah, an’ it holds up shooting and people strike matches on you.’ ‘Plus our contract says we get five pence extra for use of own club,’ said the other troll. ‘If we could just get started–’ Silverfish began. ‘Why’s there only two trolls?’ complained Dibbler. ‘What’s heroic about fighting two trolls? I asked for twenty, didn’t I?’ ‘Two’s fine by me,’ Victor called out. ‘Listen, Mr Dibbler,’ said Silverfish, ‘I know you’re

Alexandre Cabanel The Birth of Venus

Alexandre Cabanel The Birth of VenusSandro Botticelli The Story of Nastagio degli OnestiSandro Botticelli The Cestello AnnunciationSandro Botticelli Pallas and the CentaurSandro Botticelli Madonna in Glory with Seraphim
shall see to it directly,’ lied the Bursar smoothly. He remembered the sheaf of papers under his arm. ‘In the meantime, Master, perhaps you would care to-’
‘Right,’ said the Archchancellor, ramming his pointed hat on his head. ‘Good man. Now, got a sick dragon to see to. ,’ said the Bursar cheerfully. ‘That was the Librarian.’
The Archchancellor stared at him.
The Bursar’s smile began to glaze.
‘The Librarian’s a monkey?’
It took some time for the Bursar to explain matters clearly, and then the Archchancellor said: ‘What yer tellin’ me, then, is that this chap got himself turned into a monkey by Little devil hasn’t touched his tar oil for days.’ ‘Your signature on one or two of–’ the Bursar burbled hurriedly. ‘Can’t be havin’ with all that stuff,’ said the Archchancellor, waving him away. ‘Too much damn paper around here as it is. And–’ He stared through the Bursar, as if he had just remembered something. ‘Saw a funny thing this mornin’,’ he said. ‘Saw a monkey in the quad. Bold as brass.’ ‘Oh, yes,’ said the Bursar, cheerfully. ‘That would be the Librarian.’ ‘Got a pet, has he?’ ‘No, you misunderstand me, Archchancellor

Marc Chagall La Mariee

Marc Chagall La MarieePaul Gauguin Yellow ChristPaul Gauguin Where Do We Come FromPaul Gauguin The Yellow ChristPaul Gauguin The Vision After the Sermon
feet.
One of the younger pharaohs lurched forward.
'You bastard,' he croaked. 'You laid us out and shut us away, one by one, and you went on. People thought the name was passed on but it was always you. How old are you, Dios?'
There was?' said Teppicymon sarcastically.
Dios stared at him, his lips moving. 'Family,' he said at last, his voice softened from its normal bark. 'Family. Yes. I must have had a family, mustn't I. But, you know, I can't remember. Memory is the first thing that goes. The pyramids don't seem to preserve it, strangely.'
'This is Dios, the footnote-keeper of history?' said Teppicymon.
'Ah.' The high priest smiled. 'Memory goes from the head. But it is all no sound. No-one moved. A breeze stirred the dust a little. Dios sighed. 'I did not mean to,' he said. 'There was so much to do. There were never enough hours in the day. Truly, I did not realise what was happening. I thought it was refreshing, nothing more, I suspected nothing. I noted the passing of the rituals, not the years.' 'Come from a long-lived family, do you

Andy Warhol Sunset

Andy Warhol SunsetAndy Warhol Shadows IAndy Warhol OxidationAndy Warhol NeuschwansteinAndy Warhol Knives black and white
geometry, or one of those things. How do you think we can get back?'
'I don't want to go back. Why should I want to go back? It's the crocodiles for me. I'm not going back, not just for crocodiles.'
'Umcrocodiles?'
'Yes! I mean, no.' Teppic hesitated. 'I mean, the king did. I didn't. In a way. Anyway, I was the one who rescued you,' he added gallantly.
'There you are, then. Anyway, if you were the king, you'd be a god, too. You aren't acting very god-like at the moment.'
'Yes? Well. Er.' Teppic hesitated again. Ptraci's literal mindedness meant that innocent . Perhaps I could pardon you, or something,' said Teppic. 'Oh yes,' said Ptraci, looking at her nails. 'You said you were the king, didn't you.' 'I am the king! That's my kingdom over-' Teppic hesitated, not knowing in which direction to point his finger - 'somewhere. I'm king of it.' 'You don't look like the king,' said Ptraci. 'Why not?' 'He had a golden mask on.' 'That was me!' 'So you ordered me thrown to the

Jack Vettriano The Embrace Of The Spider

Jack Vettriano The Embrace Of The SpiderJack Vettriano The DuellistsJack Vettriano The DrifterJack Vettriano The Direct ApproachJack Vettriano The Defenders of Virtue
handmaidens on one side, eunuchs and butlers on the other. The women bobbed a curtsey as he walked by, creating a rather nice sine wave effect which the greatest mathematician on the Disc, had he not at this moment been occupied by being hit with a stick and shouted at by a small man wearing what appeared to be a nightshirt, might well have appreciated.
'But,' Teppic's aunt blew her nose, 'it's trade, after all.' His father patted her hand. 'Nonsense, flower of the desert,' he said, 'it is a profession, at the very least.'
'What is the 'Inhume?'
'I think it's like exhume, O flooding of the waters, only it's before they bury you.'
'I think it's terrible.' She sniffed. 'But I heard from Lady Nooni that only one boy in fifteen difference?' she sobbed. The old man sighed. 'The money, I understand. It will do him good to go out into the world and make friends and have a few corners knocked off, and it will keep him occupied and prevent him from getting into mischief.' 'But... assassination... he's so young, and he's never shown the least inclination . . .' She dabbed at her eyes. 'It's not from our side of the family,' she added accusingly. 'That brother-in-law of yours- 'Uncle Vyrt,' said his father. 'Going all over the world killing people!' 'I don't believe they use that word,' said his father. 'I think they prefer words like conclude, or annul. Or inhume, I understand.'

John Singer Sargent The Breakfast Table

John Singer Sargent The Breakfast TableRembrandt Susanna and the EldersRembrandt Diana Bathing with the Stories of Actaeon and CallistoRembrandt Christ On The CrossRembrandt Christ Driving The Money Changers From The Temple
'Yeah!'
'Are you secret?'
'Yeah!'
Hwel drew himself to his full height, such as it was.
'What-are-you?' he screamed.
'We're scheming evil secret black and midnight hags!'
'Right!' He pointed a vibrating finger towards the stage and lowered his voice and, at that moment, a dramatic inspirationsame, no matter how enthusiastically it was shaken.
Just once, he thought, just once. Let me get it right just once.
He opened his eyes and glared at the witches.
'What are you hanging around here for?' he yelled. 'Get out there and curse them!'
He watched them scamper on to the stage, and then Tomjon tapped him on the head. dived through the atmosphere and slammed into his creative node, causing him to say, 'Now I want you to get out there and give 'em hell. Not for me. Not for the goddam captain.' He shifted the butt of an imaginary cigar from one side of his mouth to the other, and pushed back a non-existent tin helmet, and rasped, 'But for Corporal Walkowski and his little dawg.'They stared at him in disbelief.On cue, someone shook a sheet of tin and broke the spell.Hwel rolled his eyes. He'd grown up in the mountains, where thunderstorms stalked from peak to peak on legs of lightning. He remembered thunderstorms that left mountains a different shape and flattened whole forests. Somehow, a sheet of tin wasn't the

Vincent van Gogh Self-Portrait with Felt Hat grey

Vincent van Gogh Self-Portrait with Felt Hat greyVincent van Gogh Seascape at Saintes-MariesVincent van Gogh Road with CypressesVincent van Gogh Peach Tree in BlossomVincent van Gogh Orchard in Blossom
After a while he crossed this out, and tried: Like unto thee Staje of a Theater ys the World, whereon alle Persons strut as Players.
This seemed a bit better.
He . That was when the ideas came.
'That what?' he said.
'It was like . . . I mean, I was sort of inside something, like a bowl, and there were these three terrible faces peering in at me.'
'Aye?'
'Yes, and then they all said, "All hail . . ." and then they started arguing about my name, and then they said, thought for a bit, and continued conscientiously: Sometimes they walke on. Sometimes they walke off.He seemed to be losing it. Time, time, what he needed was an infinity . . .There was a muffled cry and a thump from the next room. Hwel dropped the quill and pushed open the door cautiously.The boy was sitting up in bed, white-faced. He relaxed when Hwel came in.'Hwel?''What's up, lad? Nightmares?''Gods, it was terrible! I saw them again! I really thought for a minute that—'Hwel, who was absent-mindedly picking up the clothes that Tomjon had strewn around the room, paused in his work. He was keen on dreams

Tamara de Lempicka Calla Lilies

Tamara de Lempicka Calla LiliesRaphael Madonna and Child with BookGustav Klimt Women FriendsGustav Klimt The BrideGustav Klimt Schubert at the Piano
bloody well had to work now, Verence told himself. He'd never be able to lift the latch by himself. But a witch would certainly come looking for her cat – wouldn't she?
In the hills beyond the castle the Fool lay on his stomach and stared into the depths of a little lake. A couple of trout . He'd won the honorary cap and bells of the Grand Prix des Idiots Blithering at Ankh-Morpork four years in a row, which no-one else had ever done, and presumably they made him the funniest man who ever lived. He had worked hard at it, you had to give him that.
The Fool recalled with a shudder how, at the age of six.
he'd timidly approached the old man after supper with a joke he'd made up. It was about stared back at him.Somewhere on the Disc, reason told him, there must be someone more miserable than he was. He wondered who it was.He hadn't asked to be a Fool, but it wouldn't have mattered if he had, because he couldn't recall anyone in his family ever listening to anything he said after Dad ran away.Certainly not Grandad. His earliest memory was of Grandad standing over him making him repeat the jokes by rote, and hammering home every punchline with his belt; it was thick leather, and the fact that it had bells on didn't improve things much.Grandad was credited with seven official new jokes

Paul Cezanne Jas de Bouffan the Pool

Paul Cezanne Jas de Bouffan the PoolPaul Cezanne House of Pere LacroixPaul Cezanne Flowers in a Blue VasePaul Cezanne Five BathersPaul Cezanne Boy in a Red Waistcoat
'They don't allow no women on the stage,' said Magrat in a small voice. She shut her eyes.
In fact, there was no outburst from the seat on her left. She risked a quick glance.
Granny was quietly chewing the same bit of apple over and over again, her eyes never leaving the action.
'Don't make a fuss, Esme,' said Nanny, who also knew about Granny's Views. 'This is a good bit. I reckon I'm getting the hang of it.'
Someone tapped Granny on the shoulder and a voice said, 'Madam, will you kindly remove your hat?'
Granny turned around very slowly on her stool, as though propelled by hidden motors, and subjected the interrupter to a hundred kilowatt diamond-blue stare. The man wilted under it and sagged back on to his stool, her face following him all the way down.
'No,' she sounds of a couple of boiled humbugs being relentlessly churned from cheek to cheek.
Then Granny said, in a piercing voice that made one actor drop his wooden sword, 'There's a man over on the side there whispering to them!'said.He considered the options. 'All right,' he said.Granny turned back and nodded to the actors, who had paused to watch her.'I don't know what you're staring at,' she growled. 'Get on with it.'Nanny Ogg passed her another bag.'Have a humbug,' she said.Silence again filled the makeshift theatre except for the hesitant voices of the actors, who kept glancing at the bristling figure of Granny Weatherwax, and the sucking
'He's a prompter,' said Magrat. 'He tells them what to say.'

Vincent van Gogh Landscape at Auvers in the Rain

Vincent van Gogh Landscape at Auvers in the RainVincent van Gogh The Plain at AuversVincent van Gogh The Night Cafe in the Place Lamartine in Arles
Albert.'
'Not here. But I could send him back to the world.'
Albert went pale.
'You wouldn't!'
'No? I can take you back and leave you there. I shouldn't think you've got much time left, have you?' HAVE YOU?said.
'I don't want to. I just want to control it for long enough.'
'You're receptive now, see? The longer the master is away, the more you'll become just like him. Only it'll be worse, because you'll remember all about being human and —'
'What about you, then?' snapped Mort. 'What can you remember about 'Don't talk like that,' said Albert, quite failing to meet his gaze. 'You sound like the master when you talk like that.''I could be a lot worse than the master,' said Mort evenly. 'Ysabell, go and get Albert's book, will you?''Mort, I really think you're —'SHALL I ASK YOU AGAIN?She fled from the room, white-faced.Albert squinted at Mort along the length of the sword, and smiled a lop-sided, humourless smile.'You won't be able to control it forever,' he

Alphonse Maria Mucha Flower

Alphonse Maria Mucha FlowerAlphonse Maria Mucha FlirtAlphonse Maria Mucha Dance
'Aye, lordship. Made from apples. Well, mainly apples.'
This seemed on the verge of making an important deduction, and it is unfortunate that he was distracted, as he walked across the yard to the inn's low door, by the sight of the inn sign. Its artist hadn't been particularly gifted, but there was no mistaking the line of Keli's jaw or her mass of fiery hair in the portrait of The Quene's Hed.
He sighed, and pushed open to Mort. 'Oh, right,' he said. 'A pint of scumble, then.' He reached into his pocket and withdrew the bag of gold that Death had given him. It was still quite full. In the sudden hush of the inn the faint clink of the coins sounded like the legendary Brass Gongs of Leshp, which can be heard far out to sea on stormy nights as the currents stir them in their drowned towers three hundred fathoms below.
'And please serve these gentlemen with whatever they want,' he added.
He was so overwhelmed by the chorus of thanks that he didn't take much notice of the fact that his new friends were served their drink in tiny, thimble-sized glasses, while his alone turned up in a large wooden mug.

Paul Cezanne Apples Peaches Pears and Grapes

Paul Cezanne Apples Peaches Pears and GrapesLaurie Maitland Symphony in Red and Khaki IIWilliam Bouguereau YouthBill Brauer Salsa Dancers
'You're late,' he whispered, and died.
Mort swallowed, fought for breath, and brought the scythe around in a slow arc. Nevertheless, it was accurate enough; the abbot sat up, leaving his corpse behind.
'Not a shut.
'That's what I've been trying to say,' he said.
'So if you could just drop me off down in the valley,' the little monk continued moment too soon,' he said, in a voice only Mort could hear. 'You had me worried for a moment there.''Okay?' said Mort. 'Only I've got to rush —'The abbot swung himself off the bed and walked towards Mort through the ranks of his bereaved followers.'Don't rush off,' he said. 'I always look forward to these talks. What's happened to the usual fellow?''Usual fellow?' said Mort, bewildered.Tall chap. Black cloak. Doesn't get enough to eat, by the look of him,' said the abbot.'Usual fellow? You mean Death?' said Mort.'That's him,' said the abbot, cheerfully. Mort's mouth hung open.'Die a lot, do you?' he managed.'A fair bit. A fair bit. Of course,' said the abbot, 'once you get the hang of it, it's only a matter of practice.''It is?''We must be off,' said the abbot. Mort's mouth snapped

Vincent van Gogh Wheat Fields

Vincent van Gogh Wheat FieldsEdward Hopper Summer EveningEdward Hopper Room in New York
rather better than you. I suppose you'll just have to do.'
She swept out of the room, slamming the door behind her.
'Have to do what?' said Mort, to no-one in particular.
The room was silent, except for the sizzle of the frying pan and the crumbling of coals in the molten heart of the stove. old men who always look as though they are wearing gloves with the fingers cut out – even when they're not – and his walking involved a complicated sequence of movements. Albert leaned forward and his left arm started to swing, slowly at first but soon evolving into a wild jerking movement that finally and suddenly, at about the time when Mort saw that it had the words 'The Little Moloch (Ptntd)' embossed on its oven door.The cook didn't seem to notice him, so Mort pulled up a chair and sat down at the white scrubbed table.'Mushrooms?' said the old man, without looking around.'Hmm? What?''I said, do you want mushrooms?''Oh. Sorry. No, thank you,' said Mort.'Right you are, young sir.'He turned around and set out for the table.Even after he got used to it, Mort always held his breath when he watched Albert walking. Death's manservant was one of those stick-thin, raw-nosed

Thomas Kinkade CHRISTMAS MEMORIES

Thomas Kinkade CHRISTMAS MEMORIESThomas Kinkade BostonEdward Hopper Soir Bleu
horror, because the dusty floorboards suddenly felt gritty. And dry. And very, very cold.
There was fine silver sand between her fingers.
She grabbed the staff and, sheltering her eyes against the wind, waved it at the towering figures above her. It would have been nice to report that a searing flash of pure white fire cleansed the greasy air. It failed to materialise ....There was blood on the floor, and Simon lay very quietly in the centre of it. Esk stared down at him, and then up at the still air, and then at the staff. It looked smug.
She was aware of distant voices and hurrying feet.
A hand like a fine leather glove slipped gently into hers and a voice behind said "Ook," very softly. She turned, and found herself staring down into the gentle
The staff twisted like a snake in her hand and caught Simon a crack on the side of the head.
The grey Things wavered and vanished.
Reality returned, and tried to pretend that it had never left. Silence settled like thick velvet, wave after wave of it. A heavy, echoing silence. A few books dropped heavily out of the air, feeling silly.
The floor under Esk's feet was undoubtedly wooden. She kicke

William Bouguereau Innocence

William Bouguereau InnocenceBill Brauer The Gold DressUnknown Artist Muhammad Ali pop art
We wouldn't want to presume," said Granny.
"Nonsense. Why not have a look around while I pack up the stall?"
Ohulan was the market town for a wide sprawling countryside and the market day didn't end at sunset. Instead, torches flared at every booth and stall and light blared forth from the open doorways of the inns. Even the understanding of headology, since Esk was- now determined to see one or two of them for herself.
In fact, since Ohulan was quite barbaric and uncivilised the only things that went on after dark to any degree were a little thievery, some amateurish trading in the courts of lust, and drinking until you fell over or started singing or both.temples put out coloured lamps to attract nocturnal worshippers. Hilta moved through the crowd like a slim snake through dry grass, her entire stall and stock reduced to a surprisingly small bundle on her back, and her jewellery rattling like a sackful of flamenco dancers. Granny stumped along behind her, her feet aching from the unaccustomed prodding of the cobbles. And Esk got lost. It took some effort, but she managed it. It involved ducking between two stalls and then scurrying down a side alley. Granny had warned her at length about the unspeakable things that lurked in cities, which showed that the old woman was lacking in a complete

Paul Klee Ancient Sound

Paul Klee Ancient SoundRene Magritte HomesicknessArthur Hughes Phyllis
As the viewpoint swings around, the whole of the world can be seen by the light of its tiny orbiting sun. There are continents, archipelagos, seas, deserts, mountain ranges and even a tiny central ice cap. The inhabitants of this place, because the raindrops were stopping several feet from his head, and steaming.
It was good thunderstorm country, up here in the Ramtop Mountains, a country of jagged peaks, dense forests and little river valleys so deep the daylight had no sooner reached the bottom than it was time to leave again. Ragged wisps of cloud clung to the lesser peaks below the mountain trail along which the wizard slithered and slid. A few slot-eyed goats watched him with mild interest. It doesn't take a lot to interest goats.it is obvious, won't have any truck with global theories. Their world, bounded by an encircling ocean that falls forever into space in one long waterfall, is as round and flat as a geological pizza, although without the anchovies. A world like that, which exists only because the gods enjoy a joke, must be a place where magic can survive. And sex too, of course. He came walking through the thunderstorm and you could tell he was a wizard, partly because of the long cloak and careen staff but mainly

Pino close to my heart

Pino close to my heartUnknown Artist Albert Edelfelt VirginieUnknown Artist Albert Edelfelt male nude 1George Stubbs Lion Devouring a Horse
can't get out,' said Bethan.
'The door's disappeared,' added Twoflower helpfully.
Rincewind stood up, a little shakily.
'Oh,' he said. 'One of those shops?'
'All right,' said the shopkeeper testily. 'It's magical, yes, it moves around, yes, no, I'm not telling you why —'
'Can I have a drink of water, please?' said Rincewind.
The shopkeeper looked affronted.
'First no money, then they want a glass of water,' he snapped. 'That's just about —'
Bethan snorted and strode across to the little man, who tried to back away. He was too late.
She added.
'That's fine by me, I wasn't open for, I just stopped for a few seconds to get my bearings and you barged in!'
He grumbled off through the bead curtains and returned ith a cup of water.
'I washed it out special,' he said, avoiding Bethan's gaze.picked him up by his apron straps and glared at him eye to eye. Torn though her dress was, disarrayed though her hair was, she became for a moment the symbol of every woman who has caught a man with his thumb on the is money,' she hissed. 'I'll give you thirty seconds to get him a glass of water. I think that's a bargain, don't you?''I say,' Twoflower whispered. 'She's a real terror when she's roused, isn't she?''Yes,' said Rincewind', without enthusiasm.'All right, all right,' said the shopkeeper, visibly cowed.'And then you can let us out,' Bethan

Paul Klee Heroic Roses

Paul Klee Heroic RosesPaul Klee HermitageRene Magritte The Dangerous LiaisonRene Magritte Donna
which have left large tracts of land uninhabitable because of magical harmonics.
In fact, the hero even at this moment galloping towards the Vortex Plains didn't get involved in this kind of argument, because they didn't take it seriously W mainly because this particular hero was a heroine. A redheaded is that although Herrena the Henna-Haired Harridan would look quite stunning after a good bath, a heavy-duty manicure, and the pick of the leather racks in Woo Hun Ling's Oriental Exotica and Martial Aids on Heroes Street, she was currently quite sensibly dressed in light chain mail, soft boots, and a short sword.
All right, maybe the boots were leather. But not black.
Riding with her were a number of swarthy men that will certainly one.Now, there is a tendency at a point like this to look over one's shoulder at the cover artist and start going on at length about leather, thighboots and naked blades.Words like 'full', 'round' and even 'pert' creep into the narrative, until the writer has to go and have a cold hower and a lie down.Which is all rather silly, because any woman setting out to make a living by the sword isn't about to go around looking like something off the cover of the more advanced kind of lingerie catalogue for the specialised buyer.Oh well, all right. The point that must be made

Emile Munier Cupid Disarmed

Emile Munier Cupid DisarmedHenri Fantin-Latour Still Life With Flowers And FruitFilippino Lippi Adoration of the ChildFilippino Lippi Madonna with Child and Saints
down a wall and made good its escape before the dishevelled party of wild-eyed mages burst into the room. The vegetable chef was found much later hiding in the soup cauldron, gibbering unhelpful things like The knuckles! The horrible knuckles!'
The last wisps of magic, now somewhat slowed, were disappearing into the ceiling.
'To the Great Hall!'
The stairs
'Get me seers, farseers, scryers and withinlookmen!' he barked. 'I want this studied!'
Something was taking shape inside the fireball. Galder shielded his eyes and peered at the shape forming in front of him. There was no mistaking it. It was the universe.
He was quite sure of this, because he had a model of it in his study and it was generally agreed towere much wider here, and better lit. Panting and pineapple-flavoured, the fitter wizards got to the top by the time the fireball had reached the middle of the huge draughty chamber that was the University's main hall. It hung motionless, except for the occasional small prominence that arched and spluttered across its surface.Wizards smoke, as everyone knows. That probably explained the chorus of coffin coughs and sawtooth wheezes that erupted behind Galder as he stood appraising the situation and wondering if he dare look for somewhere to hide. He grabbed a frightened student.

John William Waterhouse The Sorceress

John William Waterhouse The SorceressJohn William Waterhouse The Enchanted GardenJohn William Waterhouse Psyche Entering Cupid's GardenJohn William Waterhouse Nymphs Finding the Head of Orpheus
You're mad," said Rincewind flatly. There was no reply from the tourist, and when the wizard craned around he was horrified to see Twoflower looking up at the paling stars with an odd smile on his face.
"Don't" urgently.
"Oh yes. Hrun," said Twoflower. "I hope we're in time. Dive now. Go low."
Rincewind opened his eyes as the wind increased to a whistling gale. Perhaps they were blown open - the wind certainly made them impossible to shut.
The flat summit of the Wyrmberg rose up at them, lurched alarmingly, then somersaulted into a green blur that you even think about it," added Rincewind, menacingly.The man you seek is talking to the dragon-woman said the dragon."Hmm?" said Twoflower, still looking at the paling stars."What?" said Rincewind