Tuesday, May 12, 2009

Jack Vettriano Suddenly One Summer

Jack Vettriano Suddenly One SummerJack Vettriano Study for Bluebird at BonnevilleJack Vettriano Strangers In The Night
was probably the first piano case that'd ever been made, and made out of a carpet at that. Cliff swung it easily on to his shoulder and picked up his sack of rocks in the other hand.
'Is it heavy?' said 'What'd you get if you had a pile of gold, Glod?' said Buddy. In its bag the guitar twanged gently to the sound of his voice.
Glod hesitated. He wanted to say that for a dwarf the whole point of having a pile of gold was, well, to have a pile of gold. It didn't have to do anything other than be just as oraceous Buddy.Cliff held the piano up on one hand and weighed it reflectively.'A bit,' he said. The floorboards creaked underneath him. ' Do you think we should've took all dem bits out?''It's bound to work,' said Glod. 'It's like . . . a coach. The more bits you take off, the faster it goes. Come on.'They set out. Buddy tried to look as inconspicuous as a human can look if he is accompanying a dwarf with a big horn, an ape, and a troll carrying a piano in a bag.'I'd like a coach,' said Cliff, as they headed for the Drum. 'Big black coach with all dat liver on it.''Liver?' said Buddy. He was beginning to get accustomed to the name.'Shields and dat.''Oh. Livery.''And dat.'

Monday, May 11, 2009

Paul Klee Zitronen

Paul Klee ZitronenPaul Klee Villa RPaul Klee The Golden FishPaul Klee Insula Dulcamara
NEVER DO.
'What did you say your name was?'
The stranger remained silent.
'Not that it matters,' said Corporal Cotton. ' In the. . .'
KLATCHIAN FOREIGN LEGION?
'. . . right . . . 'I suppose it's legal for me to go in licensed premises?' said Susan, as Ankh‑Morpork appeared on the horizon again.
SQUEAK.
The city slid under them again. Where there were wiwe give you a new name. You start out afresh.'He beckoned to another man.'Legionary . . . ?''Legionary . . . er . . . ugh . . . er . . . Size 15, Sir.''Right. Take this . . . man away and get him a . . .' he snapped his fingers irritably, '. . . you know . . . thing . . . clothes, everyone wears them . . . sand‑coloured–’UNIFORM?The corporal blinked. For some inexplicable reason the word 'bone' kept elbowing its way into the melt­ing, flowing mess that was his consciousness.'Right,' he said. 'Er. It's a twenty‑year tour, legion­ary. I hope you're man enough for it.'I LIKE IT ALREADY, said Death.

Thursday, May 7, 2009

Pablo Picasso Weeping Woman with Handkerchief

Pablo Picasso Weeping Woman with HandkerchiefPablo Picasso Large Nude in Red ArmchairTamara de Lempicka Woman in Red
Carrot went up to his room, and sat in his chair and looked out of the window.
The afternoon wore on. The rain stopped around teatime.
Lights came on, all over the city.
Presently, the behind the Temple of Small Gods, and into the small pit dug for Acting-Constable Cuddy.
There were always only guards at a guard's funeral, Vimes told himself. Oh, sometimes there were relatives, like Lady Ramkin and Detritus' Ruby here today, but you never got crowds. Perhaps Carrot was right. When you became a guard, you stopped being everything else.
Although there were other people today, standing silently at the railings around the cemetery. They weren't at the funeral, but they were watching it.moon rose.The door opened. Angua entered, walking softly.Carrot turned, and smiled.'I wasn't certain,' he said. 'But I thought, well, isn't it only silver that kills them? I just had to hope.' It was two days later. The rain had set in. It didn't pour, it slouched out of the grey clouds, running in rivulets through the mud. It filled the Ankh, which slurped once again through its underground kingdom. It poured from the mouths of gargoyles. It hit the ground so hard there was sort of a mist of ricochets.It drummed off the gravestones in the cemetery

Monday, May 4, 2009

George Bellows Fog Rainbow

George Bellows Fog RainbowGeorge Bellows Both Members of This ClubGeorge Bellows Anne in WhiteCaravaggio The Crowning with Thorns
trailed after her, whining.
Angua wasn't happy, either. It was always a problem, growing hair and fangs every full moon. Just when she thought she'd been lucky before, she'd found that few men are happy in a relationship where their partner grows hair and howls. She'd it was only the oil. It was clearly a thing of metal. It couldn't possibly be alive.
And yet . . .
And yet . . .
'They say it was only a beggar girl in the Guild.'
Well ? What of it ? She was a target of opportunity. That was not my fault. That sworn: no more entanglements like that.As for Gaspode, he was resigning himself to a life without love, or at least any more than the practical affection experienced so far, which had consisted of an unsuspecting chihuahua and a brief liaison with a postman's leg.The No.1 powder slid down the folded paper into the metal tube. Blast Vimes! Who'd have thought he'd actually head for the opera house? He'd lost a set of rubes up there. But there were still three left, packed neatly in the hollow stock. A bag of No. 1 powder and a rudimentary knowledge of lead casting was all a man needed to rule the city . . .The gonne lay on the table. There was a bluish sheen to the metal. Or, perhaps, not so much a sheen as a glisten. And, of course, that was only the oil. You had to believe