Daniel Ridgway Knight WaitingClaude Monet Vase Of FlowersClaude Monet The women in the GardenClaude Monet The Picnic
oot izh oot on i ed. Ang et ogg a ire-erk. I or ing un ah-ay a-ong Or-oh-Erns Eet.'
Holofernes Street, Vimes translated. Whoever it was would be well away by now.
'Ee ad a ick,' Cornice volunteered. A ire-erk htick.'
A what?'
'Ire-erk. Oo oh? Ang! Ock! Arks! Ockekts! Ang!'
'Oh, murder solved by the careful discovery of a vital footprint or a cigarette end, a hundred failed to be resolved because the wind blew some leaves the wrong way or it didn't rain the night before. So many crimes are solved by a happy accident – by the random stopping of a car, by an overheard remark, by someone of the right nationality happening to be within five miles of the scene of the crime without an alibi . . .
Even Vimes knew about the power of chance.fireworks.''Egg. Aks ot I ed.'A firework stick? Like . . . like a rocket stick?''Oh, ih-ee-ot! A htick, oo oint, ik koes ANG!''You point it and it goes bang?''Egg!'Vimes scratched his head. Sounded like a wizard's staff. But they didn't go bang.'Well . . . thanks,' he said. 'You've been . . . eh-ee elkfhull.'He turned back towards the stairs.Someone had tried to kill him.And the Patrician had warned him against investigating the theft from the Assassins' Guild. Theft, he said.Up until then, Vimes hadn't even been certain there had been a theft.And then, of course, there are the laws of chance. They play a far greater role in police procedure than narrative causality would like to admit. For every
Tuesday, 28 April 2009
Edvard Munch Nude
Edvard Munch NudeEdvard Munch MoonlightEdvard Munch Girls on a BridgeUnknown Artist Brent Heighton After the Rain
'Well, I'm not going to—' Colon began, and got off his stool.
He hopped. He jumped up and down a bit, his mouth opening and shutting. Then the words managed to come out.
'My foot!'
'What about can get stuck to your boots in this town,' said Carrot.
'There's something on the bottom of your sandal,' said Angua. 'Stop waving it about, you silly man.'
She drew her dagger.
'Bit of card or something. With a drawing pin in it. You picked it up somewhere. Probably took a while for you to tread it through . . . there.'
'Bit of card?' said Carrot.
'There's something written on it . . .' Angua scraped away the mud.
your foot?''Something stuck in it!'He hopped backwards, clutching at one sandal, and fell over Detritus.'You'd be amazed what
'Well, I'm not going to—' Colon began, and got off his stool.
He hopped. He jumped up and down a bit, his mouth opening and shutting. Then the words managed to come out.
'My foot!'
'What about can get stuck to your boots in this town,' said Carrot.
'There's something on the bottom of your sandal,' said Angua. 'Stop waving it about, you silly man.'
She drew her dagger.
'Bit of card or something. With a drawing pin in it. You picked it up somewhere. Probably took a while for you to tread it through . . . there.'
'Bit of card?' said Carrot.
'There's something written on it . . .' Angua scraped away the mud.
your foot?''Something stuck in it!'He hopped backwards, clutching at one sandal, and fell over Detritus.'You'd be amazed what
Sunday, 26 April 2009
Jean Fragonard The Bathers
Jean Fragonard The BathersThomas Gainsborough Mrs SheridanSandro Botticelli Venus and Mars
he doesn't like trolls much,' he said. 'We couldn't get a word out of him all day when he heard we had to advertise for a troll recruit. And then we had to have a dwarf, otherwise they'd be trouble. I'm a dwarf, too, but the dwarfs here don't believe it.'
'You don't say?' said 'The Patrician said we had to have a bit of representation from the minority groups,' said Carrot.
'Minority groups!'
'Sorry. Anyway, he's only got a few more days—'
There was a splintering noise across the street. They turned as a figure sprinted out of a tavern and hared away up the street, closely followed – at least for a few steps – by a fat man in an apron.
'Stop! Stop! Unlicensed thief!'Angua, looking up at him.'My mother had me by adoption.''Oh. Yes, but I'm not a troll or a dwarf,' said Angua sweetly.'No, but you're a w—'Angua stopped. 'That's it, is it? Good grief! This is the Century of the Fruitbat, you know. Ye gods, does he really think like that?''He's a bit set in his ways.''Congealed, I should think.'
he doesn't like trolls much,' he said. 'We couldn't get a word out of him all day when he heard we had to advertise for a troll recruit. And then we had to have a dwarf, otherwise they'd be trouble. I'm a dwarf, too, but the dwarfs here don't believe it.'
'You don't say?' said 'The Patrician said we had to have a bit of representation from the minority groups,' said Carrot.
'Minority groups!'
'Sorry. Anyway, he's only got a few more days—'
There was a splintering noise across the street. They turned as a figure sprinted out of a tavern and hared away up the street, closely followed – at least for a few steps – by a fat man in an apron.
'Stop! Stop! Unlicensed thief!'Angua, looking up at him.'My mother had me by adoption.''Oh. Yes, but I'm not a troll or a dwarf,' said Angua sweetly.'No, but you're a w—'Angua stopped. 'That's it, is it? Good grief! This is the Century of the Fruitbat, you know. Ye gods, does he really think like that?''He's a bit set in his ways.''Congealed, I should think.'
Friday, 24 April 2009
Henri Matisse The Green Line
Henri Matisse The Green LineHenri Matisse Red FishHenri Matisse Pink NudeHenri Matisse Odalisques
plough with iron. They ravage the land.”
“Some do, I’ll grant you that. Others put back more’n they take. They put back love. They’ve got soil in their bones. They tell the land what it is. That’s what humans are for. Without humans, Lancre’d just be a bit of ground with green bits on it, but not necessarily up to date.
273
Verence sat beside the Queen. His pupils were tiny pin-points; he smiled faintly, permanently, in a way very reminis-cent of the Bursar.
“Ah. But when we are married,” said the Queen, “the land must accept me. By your own rules. I know how it works. There’s more to being a king than wearing a crown. The king and the land are one. The king and the queen are one. And I shall be queen.”. They wouldn’t even know they’re trees. We’re all down here together, madam—us and the land. It’s not just land anymore, it’s a country. It’s like a horse that’s been broken and shod or a dog that’s been tamed. Every time people put a plough in the soil or planted a seed they took the land further away from you,” said Granny. “Things change.”l The Monks of Cool, whose tiny and exclusive monastery is hidden in areally cool and laid-back valley in the lower Ramtops, have a passing-outtest for a novice. He is taken into a room full of all types of clothing andasked: Yo,+ my son, which of these is the most stylish thing to wear? Andthe correct answer is: Hey, whatever I select. tCool
plough with iron. They ravage the land.”
“Some do, I’ll grant you that. Others put back more’n they take. They put back love. They’ve got soil in their bones. They tell the land what it is. That’s what humans are for. Without humans, Lancre’d just be a bit of ground with green bits on it, but not necessarily up to date.
273
Verence sat beside the Queen. His pupils were tiny pin-points; he smiled faintly, permanently, in a way very reminis-cent of the Bursar.
“Ah. But when we are married,” said the Queen, “the land must accept me. By your own rules. I know how it works. There’s more to being a king than wearing a crown. The king and the land are one. The king and the queen are one. And I shall be queen.”. They wouldn’t even know they’re trees. We’re all down here together, madam—us and the land. It’s not just land anymore, it’s a country. It’s like a horse that’s been broken and shod or a dog that’s been tamed. Every time people put a plough in the soil or planted a seed they took the land further away from you,” said Granny. “Things change.”l The Monks of Cool, whose tiny and exclusive monastery is hidden in areally cool and laid-back valley in the lower Ramtops, have a passing-outtest for a novice. He is taken into a room full of all types of clothing andasked: Yo,+ my son, which of these is the most stylish thing to wear? Andthe correct answer is: Hey, whatever I select. tCool
Wednesday, 22 April 2009
Pablo Picasso Large Nude in Red Armchair
Pablo Picasso Large Nude in Red ArmchairTamara de Lempicka Woman in RedTamara de Lempicka Two Girls
unicorn, which had been trying to decide between targets, was left with Ridcully.
It could count up to one.
It lowered its head.
Ridcully had were hardly any books in the castle, except for serious volumes on etiquette and animal breeding and estate management. As a rule, roy-alty doesn’t read much.
194
LORQ& ft/YQ Lft0/£6
He wasn’t expecting to be amazed at the Entertainment. He’d peered behind the bit of sacking that was doing service as a dressing room, and seen half a dozen heavily built men arguing with one another. This did not bode well for an evening of thespianic splendor, although there was always the possibility that one of them might hit another one in the face with a custard pie. never liked horses, animals which seemedto him to have only the weakest possible grip on sanityAs the unicorn charged, he vaulted the parapet and dropped, without much aerodynamic grace, into the icy waters of the Lancre.The Librarian liked the stage. He was always in the front seat on the first night of a new production at any of Ankh’s theaters, his prehensile abilities allowing him to clap twice as hard as anyone else or, if necessary, hurl peanut shells.And he was feeling let down. There
unicorn, which had been trying to decide between targets, was left with Ridcully.
It could count up to one.
It lowered its head.
Ridcully had were hardly any books in the castle, except for serious volumes on etiquette and animal breeding and estate management. As a rule, roy-alty doesn’t read much.
194
LORQ& ft/YQ Lft0/£6
He wasn’t expecting to be amazed at the Entertainment. He’d peered behind the bit of sacking that was doing service as a dressing room, and seen half a dozen heavily built men arguing with one another. This did not bode well for an evening of thespianic splendor, although there was always the possibility that one of them might hit another one in the face with a custard pie. never liked horses, animals which seemedto him to have only the weakest possible grip on sanityAs the unicorn charged, he vaulted the parapet and dropped, without much aerodynamic grace, into the icy waters of the Lancre.The Librarian liked the stage. He was always in the front seat on the first night of a new production at any of Ankh’s theaters, his prehensile abilities allowing him to clap twice as hard as anyone else or, if necessary, hurl peanut shells.And he was feeling let down. There
Tuesday, 21 April 2009
Cao Yong FRIENDS
Cao Yong FRIENDSCao Yong FreedomCao Yong Day of Love
ought to have a Poet Laureate,” said Verence, mark-ing his place in a book. “Kingdoms have to have one. They write poems for special celebrations.”
“Yes?”
“I thought perhaps Mrs. Ogg? I hear she’s quite an amusing songstress.”
Magrat kept a straight face.
“I... er ... I “It says here the role of the Poet Laureate is to recite poems on State occasions,” said Verence.
Magrat had witnessed some of Nanny Ogg’s humorous recitations, especially the ones with the gestures. She nod-ded gravely.
“Provided,” she said, “and I want to be absolutely sure you understand me on this, provided she takes up her post after the wedding.” think she knows lots of rhymes for certain words,” she said.“Apparently the going rate is fourpence a year and a butt of sack,” said Verence, peering at the page. “Or it may be a sack of butt.”“What exactly will she have to do?” said Magrat.I.QRQ6 fttYO Lft0f£6
ought to have a Poet Laureate,” said Verence, mark-ing his place in a book. “Kingdoms have to have one. They write poems for special celebrations.”
“Yes?”
“I thought perhaps Mrs. Ogg? I hear she’s quite an amusing songstress.”
Magrat kept a straight face.
“I... er ... I “It says here the role of the Poet Laureate is to recite poems on State occasions,” said Verence.
Magrat had witnessed some of Nanny Ogg’s humorous recitations, especially the ones with the gestures. She nod-ded gravely.
“Provided,” she said, “and I want to be absolutely sure you understand me on this, provided she takes up her post after the wedding.” think she knows lots of rhymes for certain words,” she said.“Apparently the going rate is fourpence a year and a butt of sack,” said Verence, peering at the page. “Or it may be a sack of butt.”“What exactly will she have to do?” said Magrat.I.QRQ6 fttYO Lft0f£6
Monday, 20 April 2009
George Inness Coast Scene
George Inness Coast ScenePierre Auguste Renoir Au bord de la merGustave Caillebotte Paris Street rainy weather
perfectly accurate descrip-tion. And it would be, as Nanny Ogg would say, a bugger to carpet.
“Why? Why a . He’d tried to introduce Ephebian democracy to Lancre, giving the vote to everyone, or at least everyone “who be of good report and who be male and hath forty years and owneth a hosue* worth more than three and a half goats a year,” because there’s no sense in being stupid about things and giving the vote to people who were poor or criminal or insane or female, who’d only use it irresponsibly. It worked, more or less, although the Members of Parliament only turned up when they felt like it and in any case no one ever wrote any-thing down and, besides, no one ever disagreed castle in Lancre?” she said, mainly to her-self, because talking to Millie was like talking to yourself. “We’ve never fought anyone. Apart from outside the tavern on a Saturday night.”“Couldn’t say, I’m sure, m’m,” said Millie.Magrat sighed.“Where’s the king today?”“He’s opening Parliament, m’m.”“Hah! Parliament!”Which had been another of Verence’s ideas
perfectly accurate descrip-tion. And it would be, as Nanny Ogg would say, a bugger to carpet.
“Why? Why a . He’d tried to introduce Ephebian democracy to Lancre, giving the vote to everyone, or at least everyone “who be of good report and who be male and hath forty years and owneth a hosue* worth more than three and a half goats a year,” because there’s no sense in being stupid about things and giving the vote to people who were poor or criminal or insane or female, who’d only use it irresponsibly. It worked, more or less, although the Members of Parliament only turned up when they felt like it and in any case no one ever wrote any-thing down and, besides, no one ever disagreed castle in Lancre?” she said, mainly to her-self, because talking to Millie was like talking to yourself. “We’ve never fought anyone. Apart from outside the tavern on a Saturday night.”“Couldn’t say, I’m sure, m’m,” said Millie.Magrat sighed.“Where’s the king today?”“He’s opening Parliament, m’m.”“Hah! Parliament!”Which had been another of Verence’s ideas
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