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,'