Leroy Neiman Lights of Broadway

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Assassins became important through skilful inhumations. There were many roads to prominence, but you could see them, you could work them out. They made some sort of sense.
Whereas these two people had merely moved interestingly in front of this new‑fangled moving‑picture machinery. The rankest actor in the city’s theatre was a mufti‑skilled master of thespianism by comparison to them, but it
And, as the common people had been filing into the stalls, his razor‑keen hearing had picked up the conversation of two of them:
‘Who’s that up there?’
‘That’s Victor Maraschino and Delores De Syn! Do you know nothing?’
‘I mean the tall guy in black.’
‘Oh, dunno who he is. Just some bigwig, I expect.’wouldn’t occur to anyone to line the streets and shout out his name.The Patrician had never visited the clicks before. As far as he could ascertain, Victor Maraschino was famous for a sort of smouldering look that had middle-aged ladies who should know better swooning in the aisles, and Miss De Syn’s forte was acting languidly, slapping faces, and looking fantastic while lying among silken cushions.While he, Patrician of Ankh‑Morpork, ruled the city, preserved the city, loved the city, hated the city and had spent a lifetime in the service of the city . . .

Leroy Neiman International Cuisine

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doing anything.’
‘He’s useless,’ said the mouse.
‘He’s in love,’ said Gaspode. ‘It’s very tricky.’
‘Yeah, I thinks he’s a idiot.’
‘That’s all part of it,’ added Gaspode. ‘They call it romance.’
Cat shrugged. ‘Give me a boot every time. You know where you stand, with a boot.’

The glittering spirit of Holy Wood streamed out into the world, no longer a trickle but a flood. It bubbled in the veins of people, even of animals. When the handlemen turned their handles, it was there. When the carpenters hammered their nails, they hammered for Holy Wood. Holy Wood was in Borgle’s stew, in the sand, in the air. It was growing. know how it ish,’ said the cat sympathetically. ‘People throwing old boots and things at you.’ ‘Old boots?’ said the mouse. ‘That’sh what’s always happened to me when I’ve been in love,’ said cat wistfully. ‘It’s different for humans,’ said Gaspode uncertainly. ‘You don’t get so many boots and buckets of water thrown at you. It’s more, er, flowers and arguing and stuff.’ The animals looked glumly at one another. ‘I’ve watched ‘em,’ said Squeak. ‘She

Henri Rousseau Eve

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eyed the Sons of the Desert. It looked as though Dibbler had dropped in at Borgle’s and hired the twenty people nearest the door, irrespective of their appropriateness, and had given them each Dibbler’s idea of a desert bandit headdress. There were trollish Sons of the Desert Rock recognized him, and gave him a little wave - , with all the Sons following you and singing rousing desert bandit songs-’
‘No-one’ll hear them,’ said Soll helpfully. ‘But if they open and shut their mouths it’ll help create a, you know, amby-ance.’
‘But it isn’t night,’ said Ginger. ‘It’s broad daylight.’
Dibbler stared at her.
His mouth opened once or twice.
‘Soll!’ he shouted. dwarf Sons of the Desert and, shuffling into the end of the line, a small, hairy and furiously-scratching Son in a headdress that reached down to his paws. ‘ . . . grab her, become entranced by her beauty, and then throw her over your pommel.’ Dibbler’s voice intruded into his consciousness. Victor desperately re-ran the half-heard instructions past his mind. ‘My what?’ he said. ‘It’s part of your saddle,’ Ginger hissed. ‘Oh.’ ‘And then you ride into the night

Pierre Auguste Renoir La Moulin de la Galette

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exactly working,’ said Detritus, bashfully.
Dibbler looked quietly at the troll, whose chipped fists were generally the final word in any street fight.
‘I call that disgusting,’ he said. He pulled out his money bag and counted out five dollars. ‘How would you like to work for me, Detritus?’
Detritus you can just get yourself to–’
‘Detritus?’
‘Yes, Mr Dibbler?’
‘Hit this man.’
‘Right you are, Mr Dibbler.’ touched his jutting brow respectfully. ‘Right you are, Mr Dibbler,’ he said. ‘Just step this way.’ Dibbler strolled back up to the head of the queue. The man at the door thrust out an arm to bar his way. ‘Where d’you think you’re going, pal?’ he said. ‘I have an appointment with Mr Silverfish,’ said Dibbler. ‘And he knows about this, does he?’ said the guard, in tones that suggested that he personally would not believe it even if he saw it written on the sky. ‘Not yet,’ said Dibbler. ‘Well, my friend, in that case

Salvador Dali Tiger

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'You'll never get it.'
'Ah,' said Teppic.
'Could you take your clothes off while you're thinking? The threads play merry hell with my teeth.'
'There Sphinx. 'Now, don't put up a fight, please, it releases unpleasant chemicals into the bloodstream.'
Teppic backed away from a slashing paw. 'Hold on, hold on,' he said. 'What do you mean, a man?'
'It's easy,' said the Sphinx. 'A baby crawls in the morning, stands on both legs at noon, and at evening an old man walks with a stick. Good, isn't it?'
Teppic bit his lip. 'We're talking about one day here?' he said doubtfully.isn't some kind of animal that regrows legs that have been-' 'Entirely the wrong track,' said the Sphinx, stretching its claws. 'Oh.' 'You haven't got the faintest idea, have you?' 'I'm still thinking,' said Teppic. 'You'll never get it.' 'You're right.' Teppic stared at the claws. This isn't really a fighting animal, he told himself reassuringly, it's definitely over-endowed. Besides, its bosom will get in the way, even if its brain doesn't. 'The answer is: "A Man",' said the

Caravaggio Madonna di Loreto

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silk and long legs attracted a certain type of older woman, they'd whirled the night away through baubons, galliards and slow-stepping pavonines, until the air thickened with musk and hunger. Chidder, whose simple open face and easygoing manner were a winner every time, came back to bed very late for days afterwards and tended to fall asleep during late king repeatedly about the education of his son, but the man was stubborn, stubborn. Now he'd have to do it on the fly. The gods were testing him, he decided. It took decades to make a monarch, and he had weeks to do it in.
'Yes, sire,' he said patiently. 'Of course. And she is also your uncle, your cousin and your father.'
'Hold on. My father-'
The priest raised his hand soothingly. 'A technicality,' he said. 'Your great-great-grandmother lessons . . 'Quite unsuitable, sire. We would require a consort well-versed in the observances. Of course, our aunt is available, sire.' There was a clatter. Dios sighed, and motioned the attendants to pick things up. 'If we could just begin again, sire? This is the Cabbage of Vegetative Increase-' 'Sorry,' said Teppic, 'I didn't hear you say I should marry my aunt, did I?' 'You did, sire. Interfamilial marriage is a proud tradition of our lineage,' said Dios. 'But my aunt is my aunt!' Dios rolled his eyes. He'd advised the

Sea of Cortez Cabo San Lucas

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'Well, I don't know about invited,' said Granny. 'We weren't invited. People don't have to invite witches, they just know we'll turn up if we want to. They soon find room for us,' she added, with some satisfaction.
'You see, he's been very busy,' said Magrat to her feet. 'Sorting everything out, you know. He's very clever, you know. Underneath.'
'Very sober she said. 'In case he'd . . . in case . . . in case we felt like a drink,' she rallied, and waved it at the other two.
'I don't want any,' said Magrat sullenly.lad,' said Nanny.'Anyway, it's full moon,' said Magrat quickly. 'You've got to go to coven meetings at full moon, no matter what other pressing engagements there may be.''Have y—?' Nanny Ogg began, but Granny nudged her sharply in the ribs.'It's a very good thing he's paying so much attention to getting the kingdom working again,' said Granny, soothingly. 'It shows proper consideration. I daresay he'll get around to everything, sooner or later. It's very demanding, being a king.''Yes,' said Magrat, her voice barely audible.The silence that followed was almost solid. It was broken by Nanny, in a voice as bright and brittle as ice.'Well, I brought a bottle of that fizzy wine with me,'

Joaquin Sorolla y Bastida Arrival of the Boats

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course you couldn't go wrong with a good storm. And there was the ghost routine that Vitoller had cut out of Please Yourself, saying they couldn't afford the muslin. And perhaps he could put Death in, too. Young Dafe would make a damn good Death, with white makeup and platform soles . . .
'How far away make a summer of it,' said Tomjon. 'Put on all the old favourites. And we could still be back by Soulcake Day. You could stay here and see to the theatre, and we could be back for a Grand Opening.' He grinned at his father. 'It'd be good for them,' he said slyly. 'You always said some of the young lads don't know what a real acting life is like.'did he say he'd come from?' he said.'The Ramtops,' said the playmaster. 'Some little kingdom no-one has ever heard of. Sounds like a chest infection.''It'd take months to get there.''I'd like to go, anyway,' said Tomjon. 'That's where I was born.'Vitoller looked at the ceiling. Hwel looked at the floor. Anything was better, just at that moment, than looking at each other's face.'That's what you said,' said the boy. 'When you did a tour of the mountains, you said.''Yes, but I can't remember where,' said Vitoller. 'All those little mountain towns looked the same to me. We spent more time pushing the lattys across rivers and dragging them up hills than we ever did on the stage.''I could take some of the younger lads and we could

Thomas Kinkade Blessings of Christmas

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be under your power. Hag-ridden, I might say. That which magic rules, magic destroys. It would destroy you, too. You know it. Ha. Ha.'
Granny's knuckles whitened as he moved closer.
'You could strike me down,' he said. 'And perhaps you could find someone to replace me. But he would have to be a fool , seeking his destiny.' The duke sneered. 'Very romantic. But I have many years to prepare. Let him try.'
Beside him King Verence's fist smashed through the air and quite failed to connect.
The duke leaned closer until his nose was an inch from Granny's face.
'Get back to your cauldrons, wyrd sisters,' he said softly.indeed, because he would know he was under your evil eye, and if he mispleased you, why, his life would be instantly forfeit. You could protest all you wished, but he'd know he ruled with your permission. And that would make him no king at all. Is this not true?'Granny looked away. The other witches hung back, ready to duck.'I said, is this not true?''Yes,' said Granny. 'It is true . . .''Yes.''. . . but there is one who could defeat you,' said Granny slowly.'The child? Let him come when he is grown. A young man with a sword

Francois Boucher The Rape of Europa

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'What have you got on your lap?'
'It's my familiar,' she said defensively.
'What happened to that toad you had?'
'It wandered off,' muttered Magrat. 'Anyway, it wasn't very good.'
Granny who sells goldfish that tarnish after a day or two.'
'Anyway, I shall call him Lightfoot,' said Magrat, her voice warm with defiance. 'I can if I want.'
'Yes, yes, all right, I'm sure,' said Granny. 'Anyway, how goes it, sisters? It is two months since last we met.'
'It should be every new moon,' said Magrat sternly. 'Regular.'
'It was our Grame's youngest's wedding,' said Nanny Ogg. 'Couldn't sighed. Magrat's desperate search for a reliable familiar had been going on for some time, and despite the love and attention she lavished on them they all seemed to have some terrible flaw, such as a tendency to bite, get trodden on or, in extreme cases, metamorphose.'That makes fifteen this year,' said Granny. 'Not counting the horse. What's this one?''It's a rock,' chuckled Nanny Ogg.'Well, at least it should last,' said Granny.The rock extended a head and gave her a look of mild amusement.'It's a tortoyse,' said Magrat. 'I bought it down in Sheep-ridge market. It's incredibly old and knows many secrets, the man said.''I know that man,' said Granny. 'He's the one

Unknown Artist Albert Edelfelt male nude 1

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seas, turning green forests into punk and ashes. He heard voices behind him, and the brief screams of friends and relatives as he turned desperately. Dust storms whirled from the dead earth as he fought to release his own grip, but the sword burned icy cold in his hand, dragging him on in a dance that would not end until there was nothing left alive.
And that in the remains of his dream.
'Yeah, okay,' he said. 'I'' go and see him directly.'
'He's not here! Albert's going crazy!' Ysabell stood by the bed, tugging a handkerchief time came, and Mort stood alone except for Death, who said, 'A fine job, boy.'And Mort said, MORT.'Mort! Mort! Wake up!'Mort surfaced slowly, like a corpse in a pond. He fought against it, clinging to his pillow and the horrors of sleep, but someone was tugging urgently at his ear.'Mmmph?' he said.'Mort!''Wsst?''Mort, it's father!'He opened his eyes and stared up blankly into Ysabell's face. Then the events of the previous night hit him like a sock full of damp sand.Mort swung his legs out of bed, still wreathed

Henri Matisse Open Window Collioure

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dear,' said Cutwell, 'do you really think so?'
'Look,' said Keli, 'you don't have to tell my future, just my present. Even she couldn't object to that. I'll have a word with her if you like,' she added magnanimously.
Cutwell brightened. 'Oh, do you know her?' he said.
'Yes. But sometimes, I think, not very well.'
Cutwell 'No-ooo, I don't think so.' Cutwell thumbed through the pages of a yellowed book that had previously been supporting the table leg. 'The pattern seems to make sense. Yes, here we are, Octogram 8,887: Illegality, the Unatoning Goose. Which we cross reference here . . . hold on sighed and burrowed around in the debris on the table, dislodging cascades of elderly plates and the long-mummified remains of several meals. Eventually he unearthed a fat leather wallet, stuck to a cheese slice.'Well,' he said doubtfully, 'these are Caroc cards. Distilled wisdom of the Ancients and all that. Or there's the Ching Aling of the Hublandish. It's all the rage in the smart set. I don't do tealeaves.''I'll try the Ching thing.''You throw these yarrow stalks in the air, then.'She did. They looked at the ensuing pattern.'Hmm,' said Cutwell after a while. 'Well, that's one in the fireplace, one in the cocoa mug, one in the street, shame about the window, one on the table, and one, no, two behind the dresser. I expect Mrs Nugent will be able to find the rest.''You didn't say how hard. Shall I do it again?'

Jasper Johns three flags

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going to sink the ship?' he said.
Death looked horrified.
CERTAINLY NOT. THERE WILL BE A COMBINATION OF BAD SEAMANSHIP, SHALLOW WATER AND A CONTRARYon the spine of the book. AND WHY DO YOU THINK I DIRECTED YOU TO THE STABLES? THINK CAREFULLY, NOW.
Mort hesitated. He had been thinking carefully, in between counting wheelbarrows. He'd wondered if it had been to coordinate his hand and eye, or teach him the habit the importance, on the human scale, of small tasks, or make him realise that even great men must start at the bottom. None of these explanations seemed exactly right.
'I think . . .' he began. WIND.'That's horrible,' said Mort. 'Will there be many drowned?'THAT'S UP TO FATE, said Death, turning to the bookcase behind him and pulling out a heavy gazetteer. THERE'S NOTHING I CAN DO ABOUT IT. WHAT Is THAT SMELL?'Me,' said Mort, simply.AH. THE STABLES. Death paused, his hand
YES?

Edward Hopper People In The Sun

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What was that I saw?" demanded Granny.
"What was what?" said Cutangle, bewildered.
"Give me some light!"
The wizard sighed wetly, and extended a hand. A bolt of golden fire shot out across the foaming water and hissed into oblivion.
"There!" said Granny triumphantly.
"It's just a boat," said Cutangle. "The boys use them in the summer -"
He waded after Granny's determined figure as fast as he could.
"You can't be the jetty and pulled the little rowing boat towards him. Getting in was a matter of luck but he managed it eventually, fumbling with the painter in the darkness.
The boat swung out into the flood and was carried away, spinning slowly.
Granny clung to the seat as it rocked in the turbulent waters, and looked expectantly thinking of taking it out on a night like this," he said. "It's madness!" Granny slithered along the wet planking of the jetty, which was already nearly under water. "You don't know anything about boats!" Cutangle protested. "I shall have to learn quickly, then," replied Granny calmly. "But I haven't been in a boat since I was a boy!" "I wasn't actually asking you to come. Does the pointy bit go in front?" Cutangle moaned. "This is all very creditable," he said, "but perhaps we can wait till morning?" A flash of lightning illuminated Granny's face. "Perhaps not," Cutangle conceded. He lumbered along

Pierre Auguste Renoir Les baigneuses

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weather by means of beastsign and skyreck, make increase in bees, brew five types of mead, make dyes and mordants and pigments, including a fast blue, I can do most types of whitesmithing, mend boots, cure and , and if you have any goats I can look after them. I like goats."
Amschat trading journey down the Ankh.
There were at least thirty barges with at least one sprawling Zoon family on each, and no two vessels appeared to be carrying the same cargo; most of them were strung together, and the Zoons simply hauled on the cable and stepped on to the next deck if they fancied a bit looked at her thoughtfully. She felt she was expected to continue. "Granny never likes to see people sitting around doing nothing," she offered. "She always says a girl who is good with her hands will never want for a living," she added, by way of further explanation. "Or a husband, I expect," nodded Amschat, weakly. "Actually, Granny had a lot to say about that -" "I bet she did," said Amschat. He looked at the senior wife, who nodded almost imperceptibly. "Very well," he said. "If you can make yourself useful you can stay. And can you ?" Esk returned his steady gaze, not batting an eyelid. "Probably." And so Esk, with the minimum of difficulty and only a little regret, left the Ramtops and their weather and joined the Zoons on their great

Caravaggio Judith Beheading Holofernes

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bugger," she said. She wondered if it was worth trying to find Esk's mind, but human minds were never so sharp and clear as animal minds and anyway the overmind of the forest itself made impromptu searching as hard as listening for a waterfall in a thunderstorm. But even without looking she could feel the packmind of the wolves, a sharp, rank Smith heard a sound in the sky as he hurried along the track. So did Granny. It was a determined whirring sound, like the flight of geese, and the snowclouds boiled and twisted as it passed.
The wolves heard it, too, as it spun low over the treetops and hurtled down into the clearing. But they heard it far too late.feeling that filled the mouth with the taste of blood. She could just make out the small footprints in the crust, half filled with fresh snow. Cursing and muttering, Granny Weatherwax pulled her shawl around her and set out. The white cat awoke from its private ledge in the forge when it heard the sounds coming from the darkest corner. Smith had carefully shut the big doors behind him when he went off with the nearly-hysterical boys, and the cat watched with interest as a thin shadow prodded at the lock and tested the hinges. The doors were oak, hardened by heat and time, but that didn't prevent them being blown right across the street.

Frank Dicksee La Belle Dame Sans Merci

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'Two at a time,' it muttered.' That'sh all. Jusht two, with horshesh.'
Rincewind swallowed, and tried not to look at Twoflower. The man would probably be grinning and mugging like an idiot. He risked a sideways glance.
Twoflower was sitting with his mouth open.
'You're not the usual ferryman,' said Herrena. 'I've been here before, the usual man is a big fellow, sort of —'
'It'sh hish day off.'
'Well, okay,' she said doubtfully. 'In that case – what's he laughing at?'
Twoflower's shoulders were shaking, his face had gone red, and he was emitting muffled snorts. Herrena glared at him, thenHe got no further because a knobbly elbow jerked into his stomach like a piston. His companion looked hard at the ferryman.'Two of you – grab him!'There was a pause. Then one of the men said, 'What, the ferryman?''Yes!''Why?'Herrena looked blank. This sort of thing wasn't supposed to happen. It was accepted that when someone yelled something like 'Get him!' or 'Guards!' people jumped to it, they weren't supposed to sit around discussing things.'Because I said so!' was the best she could manage. The two men nearest to the bowed figure looked at each ther, shrugged, dismounted, and each took a shoulder. The ferryman was about half their size.'Like this?' said one of them. Twoflower was choking for breath.'Now I want to see what he's got under that robe.' The two men exchanged glances. 'I'm not sure that—' said one.

Joaquin Sorolla y Bastida Arrival of the Boats

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'But they're priests!' wailed Twoflower. Rincewind paused.
'Yes,' he said. That's the whole point, isn't it?'
At the 'Yes, from sacrifices.' Rincewind thought about the priests he had known at Home. He was, of course, anxious not to make an enemy of any god and had attended any number of temple functions and, on the whole, he thought that the most accurate definition of any priest in the Circle Sea Regions was someone who spent quite a lot of time gory to the armpits.
Twoflower looked horrified.far side of the outer circle some sort of procession was forming up.'But priests are good kind men,' said Twoflower. 'At Home they go around with begging bowls. It's their only possession,' he added.'Ah,' said Rincewind, not certain he understood. This would be for putting the blood in, right?''Blood?'

Franz Marc Deer in the Woods II

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When are you coming down?"
Rincewind snarled. This was partly in embarrassment. Garhartra's spell had been the little-used and hard-to-master Atavarr's Personal Gravitational Upset, the practical result of which was that until it wore off Rincewind's body was convinced that "down" lay at ninety degrees to that direction normally accepted as of a downward we know why we're going to be killed," the wizard went on.
You'd like to, would you?
"Did you say that?" asked Rincewind.
"Say what?"
Twoflower gave him a worried look.
"I'm Twoflower," he said. "surely you remember?"
Rincewind put his head in his hands.

Leroy Neiman Lady Liberty

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scrambled to his feet and set off at a dead run for the woods at the edge of the arena. They were sparse, little more than a wide and overgrown hedge, but at least no dragon would be able to fly through them.
It didn't tryout," said Liartes, after a while. The bushes remained motionless.
"Perhaps you're in that holly bush over there?" The holly bush became a waxy ball of flame.
"I'm sure I can see movement in those ferns."
The ferns became mere skeletons of white ash.
"You're only prolonging it, barbarian. Why not give in now? I've burned lots of people; it doesn't hurt a bit," said . Liartes brought his mount in to land on the turf a few yards away and dismounted casually. The dragon folded its wings and poked its head in among the greenery, while its master leaned against a tree and whistled tunelessly."I can burn you