John William Waterhouse The Siren

John William Waterhouse The SirenJohn William Waterhouse The Lady ClareJohn William Waterhouse Flora
Whereas in a few days he , with his new watch. To show everyone the ropes, he said; to tidy up a few loose ends, haha. See you youngsters don't get into trouble, haha. A month later he was bringing the coal in and sweeping the floor and running errands and helping people write reports. He was still there five years later. He was still there six years later, when one of the Watch got in early and found him lying on the floor . . .
And it emerged that no-one, no-one, knew where he lived, or even if there was a Mrs Kepple. They had a whip-round to bury him, Vimes remembered. There were just guards at the funeral . . .
Come to think of it, there were always just guards at a guard's funeral.would, as Sergeant Colon had said, be on the gravy boat. Nothing to do all day but eat his meals and ride around on a big horse shouting orders at people.At times like this the image of old Sergeant Kepple floated across his memory. He'd been head of the Watch when Vimes was a recruit. And, soon afterwards, he retired. They'd all clubbed together and bought him a cheap watch, one of those that'd keep going for a few years until the demon inside it evaporated.Bloody stupid idea, Vimes thought moodily, staring at the wall. Bloke leaves work, hands in his badge and hourglass and bell, and what'd we get him? A watch.But he'd still come in to work the next day

Ford Madox Brown Work

Ford Madox Brown WorkFord Madox Brown Romeo and JulietPierre Auguste Renoir La Promenade
Them elves turned the whole kitchen upside down,” she said. “It’s going to take me days to get it straight. Anyway, everyone knows raw vegetables are bad for you, and I can’t be having with them eggy pies.”
Magrat looked beseechingly at Nanny Ogg; Granny Weatherwax had wandered off into the gardens, where she was getting a tendency to stick her nose in flowers right out of her system.
“Nothin’ to do Mrs. Scorbic began.
There was a click. She looked down the length of a crossbow and met Magrat’s steady gaze.
“Go ahead,” said the Queen of Lancre softly, “bake my quiche.”
\
Verence sat in his nightshirt with his head in his hands. He
could remember hardly anything about the night, except a
feeling of coldness. And no one seemed very inclined to tell
him.with me,” said Nanny. “It’s not my kitchen, dear.”“No, it’s mine. I’ve been cook here for years,” said Mrs. Scorbic, “and I knows how things should be done, and I’m not going to be ordered around in my own kitchen by some chit of a girl.”Magrat sagged. Nanny tapped her on the shoulder.“You might need this at this point,” she said, and handed Magrat the winged helmet.“The king’s been very happy with—“

Mark Spain Blue Dress On Gold

Mark Spain Blue Dress On GoldMark Spain After HoursMark Spain A Moment Of Tranquility
over its arms—“
Magrat picked up the axe.
“Oh, no,” said Shawn. “Miss!”
“You will never get him back,” said the elf. “She has him.”
“We shall see,” said Magrat. “All right, Shawn. What shall we do with it?”
In the end they dragged it into a storeroom next to the
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dungeon and manacled it to the bars of the window. It was still whimpering at the touch of the iron as Magrat slammed the door.
Shawn was trying to the pit. What day is it?”
“Tuesday.”
“And you clean it out on ... ?”
“Wednesdays. Only I missed last Wednesday because I
had—“
“Then we probably don’t need to worry about it. Are there anymore around?”keep at a respectful distance. It was the way Magrat kept smiling all the time.“Now let’s have a look at that arm of yours,” she said.“I’m all right,” said Shawn, “but they stabbed Diamanda in the kitchen.”“Was it her I heard screaming?”“Uh. Partly. Uh.” Shawn stared down in fascination at the dead elves as Magrat stepped over them.“You killed them,” he said.“Did I do it wrong?”“Um. No,” said Shawn cautiously. “No, you did it ... quite well, really.”“And there’s one in the pit,” said Magrat. “You know ...

Henri Rousseau The Football Players

Henri Rousseau The Football PlayersPaul Cezanne Young Man with a SkullPaul Cezanne Trees in Park
whole family, including the goat, got under the table.
It wasn’t that Nanny Ogg sang badly. It was just that she could hit notes which, when amplified by a tin bath half full of water, ceased to be sound and became some sort of inva-sive presence.
There had been plenty of singers whose high notes could smash a glass, but Nanny’s high C could clean it.
The Lancre A breeze blew over the moor, tasting of ice at midsummer.
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“—to laugh at us not being any good at being no good at acting.”
“I don’t see what’s funny about a bunch of rude artisans trying to do a play anyway,” said Weaver.Morris Men sat glumly on the turf, passing an earthenware jug between them. It had not been a good rehearsal.“Don’t work, does it?” said Thatcher.“’S’not funny, that I do know,” said Weaver. “Can’t see the king killing himself laughing at us playing a bunch of mechanical artisans not being very good at doin’ a play.” “You’re just no good at it,” said Jason.“We’re sposed to be no good at it,” said Weaver.“Yeah, but you’re no good at acting like someone who’sho good at acting,” said Tinker. “I don’t know how, but youain’t. You can’t expect all the fine lords and ladies—“

Juan Gris The Painter's Window

Juan Gris The Painter's WindowJuan Gris The Open WindowJuan Gris The Mountain Le CanigouJuan Gris The Guitar 1918
,” said Magrat, coldly. “Can one have a word with you, Na—Mrs. Ogg? Outside?”
Right you are, your queen,” said Nanny.
In the alley outside Magrat spun around with her mouth open.
“You—“
Nanny held up her hand.
“I know what you’re going to say,” she said. “But there wasn’t any danger to the little mite.”
“But you—“
“Me?” said Nanny. “I hardly did anything. They didn’t know he was going to run into the circle, did they? They both /reacted just like they normally would, didn’t they? Fair’s fair.”
“Well, in a“How did Verence know when we were coming back?”
It seemed to Magrat that Nanny thought for just a few seconds too long.
“Couldn’t say,” she said at last. “Kings are a bit magi-cal, mind. They can cure dandruff and that. Probably he woke up one morning and his royal prerogative gave him a tickle.”
The trouble with Nanny Ogg was that she always looked as if she was lying. Nanny way, but—““No one cheated,” said Nanny81Terry PratchettMargrat sagged into silence. Nanny patted her on the shoulder.“So you won’t be telling anyone you saw me wave the bag of sweets at him, will you?” she said.“No, Nanny.”“There’s a good going-to-be-queen.”“Nanny?”“Yes, dear?”Magrat took a deep breath.

George Stubbs Horse Attacked by a Lion

George Stubbs Horse Attacked by a LionSalvador Dali The Land of Milk and HoneyCaravaggio Sick Bacchus
boats grounded in the shallows, and the troops leapt into shoulder-high surf.
No one was quite sure who was leading the fleet. Most of the countries along the coast hated one another, not in any personal sense, but not to exist.
General Argavisti of Ephebe considered that he was in charge, because although he didn't have the most ships he was avenging the attack on Ephebe. But Imperiator Borvorius of Tsort knew that he was in charge, because there were more Tsortean ships than any others. And Admiral Rham-ap-Efan of Djelibeybi knew that he was in charge, because he was the kind of person who always thought he was in charge of anything. The only captain who did not, in fact, think that he was commanding the fleet was Fasta Benj, a fisherman from a very small nation of marsh-dwelling nomads simply on a kind of historical basis. On the other hand, how much leadership was necessary? Everyone knew where Omnia was. None of the countries in the fleet hated the others worse than they did Omnia. Now it was necessary for it . . .

Thomas Kinkade Hometown Pride

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growing and dripping for thousands of years.
"How?" said sound was the occasional plink of the water.
It dripped into a- shallow pool in front of what looked like an altar. From the pool it had worn a groove in the slabs of the floor all the way to a round pit, which appeared to be bottomless. There were a few statues, all of them toppled; they were heavy-proportioned, lacking any kind of detail, each one a child's clay model chiseled in granite. The distant walls had once been covered with some kind of bas-relief, but it had crumbled away except Om."Water seeps down after the rains," said Brutha. "It lodges in the rocks. Don't gods know these things?""We don't need to." Om looked around. "Let's go. I hate this place.""It's just an old temple. There's nothing here.""That's what I mean."Sand and rubble half-filled it. Light lanced in through the broken roof high above, on to the slope that they had climbed down. Brutha wondered how many of the wind­carved rocks in the desert had once been buildings. This one must have been huge, perhaps a mighty tower. And then the desert had come.There were no whispering voices here. Even the small gods kept away from abandoned temples, fo the same reason that people kept away from graveyards. The only