Pablo Picasso Three Women at the SpringPablo Picasso Three DancersPablo Picasso The ShadowPablo Picasso The Pipes of Pan
stared at the scrawled notes.
I'm on the path, he thought. I don't have to know where it leads. I just have to follow. There's always a crime, if you look hard enough. And the Assassins are in this somewhere.
Follow every lead. Check every detail. Chip, chip away.
I'm hungry.
He staggered to his He scrambled forward on hands and knees and pulled himself upright alongside the window.
Images flashed through his mind. The dead dwarf. The hole in the wall . . .
A thought seemed to start in the small of his back and spread upwards to his brain: These were lath and plaster walls, and old ones at that; you could push a finger through themfeet and looked at his face in the cracked mirror over the basin.Events of the previous day filtered through the dogged gauze of memory. Central to all of them was the face of Lord Vetinari. Vimes grew angry just thinking about that. The cool way he'd told Vimes that he mustn't take an interest in the theft from—Vimes stared at his reflection——something stung his ear and smashed the glass.Vimes stared at the hole in the plaster, surrounded by the remains of a mirror frame. Around him, the mirror glass tinkled to the floor.Vimes stood stock still for a long moment.Then his legs, reaching the conclusion that his brain was somewhere else, threw the rest of him to the floor.There was another tinkle and a half bottle of Bear-hugger's exploded on the desk. Vines couldn't even remember buying it.
Tuesday, April 28, 2009
Monday, April 27, 2009
Edward Hopper Excursion into Philosophy
Edward Hopper Excursion into PhilosophyEdward Hopper Drug StoreEdward Hopper Conference at Night
can you be so sure?'
'The guards on the roofs in Filigree Street say no-one came in or went out, sir.'
And who's watching them?'
'They're watching one another, sir.'
'Very well. Listen carefully. I want the mess cleaned up. If anyone needs to go outside the building, I want everyone watched. And then how I've always told you how observation is important?'
'Yes, captain. I have always paid careful attention to your remarks on the subject.'
'So what did you observe?'
'Someone'd smashed a mirror. Everyone knows Assassins likethe Guild is going to be searched from top to bottom, do you understand?''What for, doctor?' said a junior lecturer in poisons.'For . . . anything that is hidden. If you find anything and you don't know what it is, send for a council member immediately. And don't touch it.''But doctor, all sorts of things are hidden—''This will be different, do you understand?''No, sir.''Good. And no-one is to speak to the wretched Watch about this. You, boy . . . bring me my hat.' Dr Cruces sighed. 'I suppose I shall have to go and tell the Patrician.''Hard luck, sir.' The captain didn't say anything until they were crossing the Brass Bridge.'Now then, Corporal Carrot,' he said, 'you know
can you be so sure?'
'The guards on the roofs in Filigree Street say no-one came in or went out, sir.'
And who's watching them?'
'They're watching one another, sir.'
'Very well. Listen carefully. I want the mess cleaned up. If anyone needs to go outside the building, I want everyone watched. And then how I've always told you how observation is important?'
'Yes, captain. I have always paid careful attention to your remarks on the subject.'
'So what did you observe?'
'Someone'd smashed a mirror. Everyone knows Assassins likethe Guild is going to be searched from top to bottom, do you understand?''What for, doctor?' said a junior lecturer in poisons.'For . . . anything that is hidden. If you find anything and you don't know what it is, send for a council member immediately. And don't touch it.''But doctor, all sorts of things are hidden—''This will be different, do you understand?''No, sir.''Good. And no-one is to speak to the wretched Watch about this. You, boy . . . bring me my hat.' Dr Cruces sighed. 'I suppose I shall have to go and tell the Patrician.''Hard luck, sir.' The captain didn't say anything until they were crossing the Brass Bridge.'Now then, Corporal Carrot,' he said, 'you know
Sunday, April 26, 2009
Frederic Edwin Church The Icebergs
Frederic Edwin Church The IcebergsFrederic Edwin Church Twilight in the WildernessJulius LeBlanc Stewart At HomeTitian Sacred and Profane Love
Edward spent a lot of time among history books as well. The Assassins' Guild was an association of gentlemen of breeding, and people like that regard the whole of recorded history as a kind of stock book. There were a great many books in the Guild library, and a whole portrait gallery of kings and queensEdward d'Eath came to know their aristocratic faces better they are . . . well . . . human beings. He was also spiralling inwards, as tends to happen in cases like this.
He'd had no plan. He'd just retreated, as people do when they feel under attack, to a more defensible position, i.e. the past, and then something happened which had the same effect on Edward as finding a plesiosaur in his goldfish pond would on a student of ancient reptiles.
He'd stepped out blinking in the sunlight one hot afternoon, after a day spent in the company of departed glory, and had seen the face of the past strolling by, nodding amiably to people.than he did his own. He spent his lunch hours there.It was said later that he came under bad influences at this stage. But the secret of the history of Edward d'Eath was that he came under no outside influences at all, unless you count all those dead kings. He just came under the influence of himself.That's where people get it wrong. Individuals aren't naturally paid-up members of the human race, except biologically. They need to be bounced around by the Brownian motion of society, which is a mechanism by which human beings constantly remind one another that
Edward spent a lot of time among history books as well. The Assassins' Guild was an association of gentlemen of breeding, and people like that regard the whole of recorded history as a kind of stock book. There were a great many books in the Guild library, and a whole portrait gallery of kings and queensEdward d'Eath came to know their aristocratic faces better they are . . . well . . . human beings. He was also spiralling inwards, as tends to happen in cases like this.
He'd had no plan. He'd just retreated, as people do when they feel under attack, to a more defensible position, i.e. the past, and then something happened which had the same effect on Edward as finding a plesiosaur in his goldfish pond would on a student of ancient reptiles.
He'd stepped out blinking in the sunlight one hot afternoon, after a day spent in the company of departed glory, and had seen the face of the past strolling by, nodding amiably to people.than he did his own. He spent his lunch hours there.It was said later that he came under bad influences at this stage. But the secret of the history of Edward d'Eath was that he came under no outside influences at all, unless you count all those dead kings. He just came under the influence of himself.That's where people get it wrong. Individuals aren't naturally paid-up members of the human race, except biologically. They need to be bounced around by the Brownian motion of society, which is a mechanism by which human beings constantly remind one another that
Friday, April 24, 2009
Piet Mondrian Composition 2
Piet Mondrian Composition 2Steve Thoms PoppiesEdvard Munch Puberty 1894Unknown Artist Heighton After Hours
Hello, Mr. Flowerpot, two pints of eels if you would be so good.”
“Of course, it could be her destiny, or one of those sort of things.”
“Oook.”
“Millennium hand and shrimp.”
Ponder Stibbons looked embarrassed.
“Anyone want to follow her?”
“Oook.”
“Whoops, there he goes with his big clock.”
“Was that a ‘yes’?”
“Oook.”
“Not yours, his.”
“Flobby She knew she was near the Dancers now. Colored light flickered in the sky.
266wobbly, here comes our jelly.”“I think that probably counts as a ‘yes’,” said Ponder, reluctantly.“Oook?”“I’ve got a lovely new vest.”“But look,” said Ponder, “the graveyards are full of peo-ple who rushed in bravely but unwisely.”“Ook.”“What’d he say?” said the Bursar, passing briefly through reality on his way somewhere else.“I think he said, ‘Sooner or later the graveyards are full of everybody,’” said Ponder. “Oh, blast. Come on.”“Yes indeedy,” said the Bursar, “hands up the mittens, Mr. Bosun!”“Oh, shut up.”Magrat dismounted and let the horse go.
LORDS ftttO Cft0f£6
She wished she could go home.
Hello, Mr. Flowerpot, two pints of eels if you would be so good.”
“Of course, it could be her destiny, or one of those sort of things.”
“Oook.”
“Millennium hand and shrimp.”
Ponder Stibbons looked embarrassed.
“Anyone want to follow her?”
“Oook.”
“Whoops, there he goes with his big clock.”
“Was that a ‘yes’?”
“Oook.”
“Not yours, his.”
“Flobby She knew she was near the Dancers now. Colored light flickered in the sky.
266wobbly, here comes our jelly.”“I think that probably counts as a ‘yes’,” said Ponder, reluctantly.“Oook?”“I’ve got a lovely new vest.”“But look,” said Ponder, “the graveyards are full of peo-ple who rushed in bravely but unwisely.”“Ook.”“What’d he say?” said the Bursar, passing briefly through reality on his way somewhere else.“I think he said, ‘Sooner or later the graveyards are full of everybody,’” said Ponder. “Oh, blast. Come on.”“Yes indeedy,” said the Bursar, “hands up the mittens, Mr. Bosun!”“Oh, shut up.”Magrat dismounted and let the horse go.
LORDS ftttO Cft0f£6
She wished she could go home.
Thursday, April 23, 2009
Peter Paul Rubens Landscape with a Rainbow
Peter Paul Rubens Landscape with a RainbowPeter Paul Rubens Hippopotamus and Crocodile HuntJohn William Godward Summer Flowers
with military precision.”
“What for?”
“To get help, miss.”
“But you don’t know if there’s any help to get.”
“Can you think of anything else, miss?”
She couldn’t.
210ledge, and then dropped into the darkness.
Magrat pushed the bed against the door and sat on it.
It occurred to her that she should have gone as well. But that would mean leaving the castle empty, and that didn’t feel right.
Besides, she was scared.
There was one candle in the room, and that was half burned down. When it was gone, there’d be nothing (.ORQ6 fi/VO l.ftQ/£8“It’s very . .. brave of you, Shawn,” said Magrat.“You stay here and you’ll be right as rain,” said Shawn. “Tell you what... How about if I lock the door and take the key with me? Then even if they sing at you they can’t get you to open the door.”Magrat nodded.Shawn tried to smile. “Wish we had another suit of mail,” he said. “But it’s all in the armory.”“I’ll be fine,” said Magrat. “Off you go, then.”Shawn nodded. He waited for a moment on the window
with military precision.”
“What for?”
“To get help, miss.”
“But you don’t know if there’s any help to get.”
“Can you think of anything else, miss?”
She couldn’t.
210ledge, and then dropped into the darkness.
Magrat pushed the bed against the door and sat on it.
It occurred to her that she should have gone as well. But that would mean leaving the castle empty, and that didn’t feel right.
Besides, she was scared.
There was one candle in the room, and that was half burned down. When it was gone, there’d be nothing (.ORQ6 fi/VO l.ftQ/£8“It’s very . .. brave of you, Shawn,” said Magrat.“You stay here and you’ll be right as rain,” said Shawn. “Tell you what... How about if I lock the door and take the key with me? Then even if they sing at you they can’t get you to open the door.”Magrat nodded.Shawn tried to smile. “Wish we had another suit of mail,” he said. “But it’s all in the armory.”“I’ll be fine,” said Magrat. “Off you go, then.”Shawn nodded. He waited for a moment on the window
Tuesday, April 21, 2009
Franz Marc Blaues Pferd 1
Franz Marc Blaues Pferd 1Franz Marc AffenfriesGarmash Sleeping Beauty
him look like a lizard that had lost a lot of weight very quickly.
“Where’s the coach driver?” said Shawn Ogg.
“He’s ill,” said Ridcully. “He had a sudden attack of ban-dits. What do we do with the mail?”
“I take theand hung the sack on the aforesaid nail.
“Yes, that’s another thing they used to have round here,”
said Ridcully. “Witches! Let me tell you about the witches
round here—“
“Our mum’s a witch,” said Shawn conversationally, rum-maging in the sack.
“As fine a body of women as you could hope to meet,” said Ridcully, with barely a hint of mental gear-clashing. “And not a bunch of interfering power-mad old crones at all, whatever anyone might say.” palace stuff, and we generally leave the sack161Terry Pratehetthanging up on a nail outside the tavern so that people can help themselves,” said Shawn.“Isn’t that dangerous?” said Ponder.“Don’t think so. It’s a strong nail,” said Shawn, rummag-ing in the sack.“I meant, don’t people steal letters?”“Oh, they wouldn’t do that, they wouldn’t do that. One of the witches’d go and stare at ‘em if they did that.” Shawn stuffed a few packages under his arm
him look like a lizard that had lost a lot of weight very quickly.
“Where’s the coach driver?” said Shawn Ogg.
“He’s ill,” said Ridcully. “He had a sudden attack of ban-dits. What do we do with the mail?”
“I take theand hung the sack on the aforesaid nail.
“Yes, that’s another thing they used to have round here,”
said Ridcully. “Witches! Let me tell you about the witches
round here—“
“Our mum’s a witch,” said Shawn conversationally, rum-maging in the sack.
“As fine a body of women as you could hope to meet,” said Ridcully, with barely a hint of mental gear-clashing. “And not a bunch of interfering power-mad old crones at all, whatever anyone might say.” palace stuff, and we generally leave the sack161Terry Pratehetthanging up on a nail outside the tavern so that people can help themselves,” said Shawn.“Isn’t that dangerous?” said Ponder.“Don’t think so. It’s a strong nail,” said Shawn, rummag-ing in the sack.“I meant, don’t people steal letters?”“Oh, they wouldn’t do that, they wouldn’t do that. One of the witches’d go and stare at ‘em if they did that.” Shawn stuffed a few packages under his arm
Monday, April 20, 2009
John William Waterhouse Flora and the Zephyrs
John William Waterhouse Flora and the ZephyrsJohn William Waterhouse Apollo and DaphneVincent van Gogh On the Outskirts of Paris
Diamanda,” she said, meekly.
“This is the Moon,” Diamanda repeated, “for those who weren’t paying attention.” She held up the card. “And what do we see here—you, Muscara?”
“Um . . . it’s got a picture of the moon on it?” said Muscara (nee Susan) in a hopeful voice.
“Of course it’s not the moon. It’s a nonmimetic conven-tion, not tied to a conventional referencing system, actually,” On the other hand, the coven was helping people . . . more or less. Raising power and all that sort of thing. Oh dear, supposing she asks me?
Perdita realized that she was feeling worried. Something was wrong. It had just gone wrong. She didn’t know what it was, but it had gone wrong now. She looked up.
“Blessings be upon this house,” said Granny Weatherwax.said Diamanda.“Ah.”A gust rocked the cottage. The door burst open and slammed back against the wall, giving a glimpse of cloud-wracked sky in which a non-mimetic convention was show-ing a crescent.Diamanda waved a hand. There was a brief flash of octarine light. The door jerked shut. Diamanda smiled in what Perdita thought of as her cool, knowing way.She placed the card on the black velvet cloth in front of her.Perdita looked at it gloomily It was all very pretty, the cards were colored like little pasteboard jewels, and they had interesting names. But that little traitor voice whis-pered: how the hell can they know what the future holds? Cardboard isn’t very bright.
Diamanda,” she said, meekly.
“This is the Moon,” Diamanda repeated, “for those who weren’t paying attention.” She held up the card. “And what do we see here—you, Muscara?”
“Um . . . it’s got a picture of the moon on it?” said Muscara (nee Susan) in a hopeful voice.
“Of course it’s not the moon. It’s a nonmimetic conven-tion, not tied to a conventional referencing system, actually,” On the other hand, the coven was helping people . . . more or less. Raising power and all that sort of thing. Oh dear, supposing she asks me?
Perdita realized that she was feeling worried. Something was wrong. It had just gone wrong. She didn’t know what it was, but it had gone wrong now. She looked up.
“Blessings be upon this house,” said Granny Weatherwax.said Diamanda.“Ah.”A gust rocked the cottage. The door burst open and slammed back against the wall, giving a glimpse of cloud-wracked sky in which a non-mimetic convention was show-ing a crescent.Diamanda waved a hand. There was a brief flash of octarine light. The door jerked shut. Diamanda smiled in what Perdita thought of as her cool, knowing way.She placed the card on the black velvet cloth in front of her.Perdita looked at it gloomily It was all very pretty, the cards were colored like little pasteboard jewels, and they had interesting names. But that little traitor voice whis-pered: how the hell can they know what the future holds? Cardboard isn’t very bright.
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