Jack Vettriano Back Where You Belong

Jack Vettriano Back Where You BelongJack Vettriano baby bye byeJack Vettriano Baby Bye Bye II
dressing room was next to the privies and half full of beer barrels. Glod leaned on the door.
'I don't need the money,' he said. 'Just let me get out of here with my life, that's all I ask.'
'Oo ownt ave oo orry‑' Cliff began.
'You're trying to speak with your mouth shut, Cliff,' said Buddy.
'I said, you don't have to worry, you've got der wrong sort of teeth,' said the troll.
There was a knock on the door. Cliff slammed his hand back over his mouth. But the knock turned out to belong to Asphalt, who was "S funny thing,' said the little troll, 'suddenly everyone's playing music with rocks in it. Mr Dibbler's signed up another band for the concert, too. To kind of warm it up.'
"S called Insanity,' said Asphalt.
'Where are they?' said Cliff.
'Well, put it like this . . . you know how your dressing room is carrying a tray.There were three types of beer. There were even smoked rat sandwiches with the crusts and tails cut off. And there was a bowl of finest anthracite coke with ash on it.'Crunch it up good,' moaned Glod, as Cliff took his bowl. 'It may be the last chance you get–’'Maybe no‑one'll turn up and we can go home?' said Cliff.Buddy ran his fingers over the strings. The others stopped eating as the chords filled up the room.'Magic,' said Cliff, shaking his head.'Don't you boys worry,' said Asphalt. 'If there are any problems, it's the other guys who'll get it in the teeth.'Buddy stopped playing.'What other guys?'

Jack Vettriano Tuesday's child

Jack Vettriano Tuesday's childJack Vettriano Traffic Light MomentJack Vettriano the_Tourist_trap
Hall for archery practice and had accidentally shot the Bursar twice, thought the whole faculty was as crazy as loons, whatever a loon was. 'Not enough fresh air,' he'd say. 'Too much sittin' around indoors. Rots the brain.' More often he'd say, 'Duck!'busy somewhere up in the roof.
Ridcully put down his fork.
'All right, who's doing it?' he said. 'Own up, that man.'
'Doing what, Archchancellor?' said the Senior Wrangler.
'Somone's tappin' his foot.'
The wizards looked along the table. The Dean was staring happily None of them, apart from Ridcully and the Librarian, were early risers. Breakfast, if it happened at all, happened around mid­morning. Wizards lined the buffet, lifting the big silver lids of the tureens and wincing at every clang. Ridcully liked big greasy breakfasts, especially if they included those slightly translucent sausages with the green flecks that you can only hope is a herb of some sort. Since it was the Archchancellor's prerogative to choose the menu, many of the more squeamish wizards had stopped eating breakfast altogether, and got through the day just on lunch, tea, dinner and supper and the occasional snack. So there weren't too many in the Great Hall this morning. Besides, it was a bit draughty. Workmen were

Thomas Kinkade Light of Freedom

Thomas Kinkade Light of FreedomThomas Kinkade GracelandThomas Kinkade Deer Creek Cottage
pushed into the river as well.
Binky cantered easily over the rooftops. Susan could hear the sounds of the streets, even individual voices, but there was also theat school, under the name of Bogey and Rice. It was yellow. There were soggy raisins and peas in it.
Binky whinnied, and stamped a hoof.
A hatch in the door flew open. Susan got a brief impression of a face against the fiery atmosphere of the kitchen.
'Ooorrh, nooorrrh! Binkorrr!'
The hatch slammed shut again. great roar of the city, like some kind of insect hive. Upper windows drifted by, each one a glow of candlelight.The horse dropped through the smoky air and landed neatly and at the trot in an alley which was otherwise empty except for a closed door and a sign with a torch over it.Susan read:CURRY GARDENSKitchren Entlance ‑ Keep Out. Ris Means You.Binky seemed to be waiting for something. Susan had expected a more exotic destination.She knew about curry. They had curry

Caravaggio The Musicians

Caravaggio The MusiciansCaravaggio St JeromeCaravaggio Narcissus
were plenty of schools in the world, but they were all run either by the various churches or by the Guilds. Miss Butts objected to churches on logical grounds and deplored the fact that the only Guilds that considered girls worth educating were the Thieves and the Seamstresses. But it was a big and dangerous world out there, and a gel could do worse than face as wisdom is concerned, on a par with going alligator‑hunting in a cardboard boat during the sinking season.
For example, when she lectured to the school, pointed chin trembling, on the perils to be found outside in the town, three hundred healthy enquiring minds decided that 1) they should be sampled at the earliest opportunity, and logical thought wondered 2) exactly how Miss Butt knew about them. And it with a sound knowledge of geometry and astronomy under her bodice. For Miss Butts sincerely believed that there were no basic differences between boys and gels.At least, none worth talking about.None that Miss Butts would talk about, anyway.And therefore she believed in encouraging logi­cal thought and a healthy enquiring mind among the nascent young women in her care, a course of action which is, as far

Alexandre Cabanel Harmony

Alexandre Cabanel HarmonyThomas Gainsborough Shepherd Boys with Dogs FightingThomas Gainsborough River LandscapeThomas Gainsborough Mary Countess of Howe
Coalface blinked.
'I'll join.'
'Swear him in, acting-constable.'
'Permission to enrol another dwarf, sir? To maintain parity?'
'Go ahead, Acting-Constable Cuddy.'
Carrot removed his helmet and wiped his forehead.
'I think that's about it, then,' he said.
The crowd stared at him.
He smiled brightly.
'No-one has to stay here unless they want to,' he said.
'I never done nuffin.'
'Yes . . . The crowd dispersed, or at least spread out a bit. Trolls, dwarfs and humans alike, an Ankh-Morpork citizen is never keen on moving on if there's some street theatre left.
Acting-Constable Detritus, his chest so swollen with pride and pomposity that his knuckles barely touched the ground, reviewed his troops.but . . . look,' said Stronginthearm. 'If he didn't kill old Hammerhock, who did?''I never done nuffin.''Our inquiries are proceeding.''You don't know!''But I'm finding out.''Oh, yes? And when, pray, will you know?''Tomorrow.'The dwarf hesitated.'All right, then,' he said, with extreme reluctance. 'Tomorrow. But it had better be tomorrow.''All right,' said Carrot.
'You listen up, you horrible trolls!'

Fabian Perez Waiting for the romance to come

Fabian Perez Waiting for the romance to comeFabian Perez Waiting For the Romance to Come Back IIFabian Perez VeniceFabian Perez For a Better Life III
trail led eventually into a narrower tunnel, barely wide enough for the troll to stand upright. Finally they could go no further. A stone had dropped out of the roof and rubble and mud had percolated through, blocking the tunnel. But that didn't matter because they'd found what they were looking for, even though they hadn't been looking for it.
'Oh dear,' said Detritus.built on is Ankh-Morpork; it has been constructed, burned down, silted up, and rebuilt so many times that its foundations are old cellars, buried ro'Very definitely,' said Cuddy. He looked around vaguely.'You know,' he said, 'I reckon these tunnels are usually full of water. They're well below the normal river level.'He looked back to the pathetic discovery.'There's going to be a lot of trouble about this,' he said. 'It's his badge,' said Carrot. 'Good grief. He's holding it so tight it's cut right into his hand.' Technically Ankh-Morpork is built on loam, but what it is mainly ads and the fossil bones and middens of earlier cities.

Thomas Kinkade Town Square

Thomas Kinkade Town SquareThomas Kinkade PARIS EIFFEL TOWERThomas Kinkade Hometown Pride
get back to the Yard.'
They proceeded to the Brass Bridge, quite slowly, because Carrot cheerfully acknowledged everyone they met. Hard-edged ruffians, whose normal response to a remark from a Watchman would be genteelly paraphrased by a string of symbols generally found on the top row of a typewriter's keyboard, would actually smile awkwardly and mumble something harmless in response to his hearty, 'Good evening, Masher! Mind how you go!'
Vimes stopped halfway across the bridge to light his cigar, striking a match on one of the ornamental hippos. Then he looked down into the turbid waters.
'Carrot?'
'Yes, captain?'
'Do you think there's such a thing as a criminal mind?'
Carrot almost people. That was something else.
The point was. . . well, he didn't like dwarfs and trolls. But he didn't like anyone very much. The point was that he moved in their company every day, and he had a right to dislike them. The point was that no fat idiot had the right to say things like that.audibly tried to work this out.'What . . . you mean like . . . Mr Cut-Me-Own-Throat Dibbler, sir?''He's not a criminal.''You have eaten one of his pies, sir?''I mean . . . yes . . . but . . . he's just geographically divergent in the financial hemisphere.''Sir?''I mean he just disagrees with other people about the position of things. Like money. He thinks it should all be in his pocket. No, I meant—' Vimes closed his eyes, and thought about cigar smoke and flowing drink and laconic voices. There were people who'd steal money from people. Fair enough. That was just theft. But there were people who, with one easy word, would steal the humanity from
He stared at the water. One of the piles of the bridge was right below