Vincent van Gogh View of Arles with Irises I

Vincent van Gogh View of Arles with Irises IVincent van Gogh Wheatfield with a LarkVincent van Gogh Vegetable Gardens in MontmartreVincent van Gogh Vegetable gardens at the MontmartreVincent van Gogh Still life with a bottle of lemons and oranges
Gaspode’s brow furrowed. ‘The ones from before the dawnatime?’
‘Where they come from, there is no time,’ said Victor. The audience was stirring.
‘We must get everyone out of here,’ he said. ‘But without panicking‑‘
There was a chorus of screams. The audience was waking up.
The effect, then?’ said the Chair hopefully.
‘Not unless they’ve got really good in the last twenty‑four hours,’ said Victor. ‘I think it’s the Dungeon Dimensions.’
The Chair stared intently at him.
‘You are young Victor, aren’t you,’ he said.screen Ginger was climbing out. She was three times normal size and flickered visibly. She was also vaguely transparent, but she had weight, because the floor buckled and splintered under her feet.The audience was climbing over itself to get away. Victor fought his way down the aisle just as Poons’ wheelchair went past backwards in the flow of people, its occupant flailing desperately and shouting, ‘Hey! Hey! It’s just getting good!’The Chair grabbed Victor’s arm urgently.‘Is it meant to do this?’ he demanded.‘No!’‘It’s not some sort of special kinematographic

Jean-Honore Fragonard Cephale et Procris

Jean-Honore Fragonard Cephale et ProcrisEdgar Degas DancerWilliam Beard So You Wanna Get MarriedWilliam Beard Phantom CraneWilliam Beard Owls
thought that counted.
M’Bu trotted up the path towards him, his clipboard held firmly under one arm.
‘Everything ready, boss,’ he said. ‘You just got to say the word.’
Azhural drew , even here.
Azhural raised his staff.
‘It’s fifteen hundred miles to Ankh-Morpork,’ he said. ‘We’ve got three hundred and sixty-three elephants, fifty carts of forage, the monsoon’s about to break and we’re wearing . . . we’re wearing . . . sort of things, like glass, only dark . . . dark glass things on our eyes . . . ‘ His voice trailed off. His brow furrowed, as if he’d just been listening to his own voice and hadn’t understood it. ‘
The air seemed to glitter. himself up. He looked around at the heaving plain, the distant baobab trees, the purple mountains. Oh, yes. The mountains. He’d had misgivings about the mountains. He’d mentioned them to M’Bu, who said, ‘We’ll cross them bridges when we get to ‘em, boss,’ and when Azhural had pointed out that there weren’t any bridges, had looked him squarely in the eye and said firmly, ‘First we build them bridge, then we cross ‘em.’ Far beyond the mountains was the Circle Sea and Ankh-Morpork and this Holy Wood place. Far-away places with strange sounding names. A wind blew across the veldt, carrying faint whispers

Marc Chagall The Concert

Marc Chagall The ConcertPaul Gauguin When Will You MarryPaul Gauguin What Are You JealousPaul Gauguin Two Tahitian WomenPaul Gauguin The White Horse
rest of the day passed in a trance for Victor.
There was , and the performance had leapt magically from ‘A Battlefield in Tsort’ to ‘The Ephebian Fortresse, That Nighte’ with no more than a brief descent of the sackcloth curtain and a lot of muffled bumping and cursing as the scenery was changed.
But this was different. Ten minutes after doing a scene, you’d do another scene that was taking place the day before, somewhere else, because Dibbler had rented the tents for both scenes and didn’t want to have to pay any more rent than necessary. You just had to try and forget about everything but Now, and that was hard when you were also waiting every moment for that fading sensation . . . more galloping and fighting, and more rearranging of time. Victor still found that hard to understand. Apparently the film could be cut up and then stuck together again later, so that things happened in the right order. And some things didn’t have to happen at all. He saw the artist draw one card which said ‘In thee Kinges’ Palace, One Houre Latre.’ One hour of Time had been vanished, just like that. Of course, he knew that it hadn’t really been surgically removed from his life. It was the sort of thing that happened all the time in books. And on the stage, too. He’d seen a group of strolling players once

Rembrandt Saskia As Flora

Rembrandt Saskia As FloraRembrandt Samson And DelilahLord Frederick Leighton OdalisqueLord Frederick Leighton NausicaaJean Auguste Dominique Ingres Napoleon I on His Imperial Throne
with make-up apart from her eyes, which were heavily ringed in black. The general effect was of a lampshade that hadn’t been getting much sleep lately.
‘Well?’ she repeated, ‘Hurry up! They’re shooting again in five minutes!’
‘Er–’ know it but I do. Yes. That’s why I came here. Why didn’t I think of that? ‘Yes,’ he said. ‘Yes, that’s what I want to do. I want to, er, break in. And how does one do that?’
‘One waits for ever and ever. Until one is noticed.’ The girl looked him up and down with unconcealed contempt. ‘Take up carpentry, why don’t you? Holy Wood always needs good wood butchers.’
And then she spun around and was gone, lost in a crowd of busy She unbent slightly. ‘No, don’t tell me,’ she said. ‘You’ve just got here. It’s all new to you. You don’t know what to do. You’re hungry. You haven’t got any money. Right?’ ‘Yes! How did you know?’ ‘Everyone starts like that. And now you want to break into the clicks, right?’ ‘The clicks?’ She rolled her eyes, deep within their black circles. ‘Moving pictures!’ ‘Oh–’ I do, he thought. I didn’t

John William Waterhouse Waterhouse Ophelia

John William Waterhouse Waterhouse OpheliaLeonardo da Vinci Portrait of Ginevra BenciLeonardo da Vinci The Madonna of the CarnationLeonardo da Vinci da Vinci Self PortraitRembrandt The Return of the Prodigal Son
legions of the kings of Djelibeybi were on the march. They lurched, but they covered the ground quickly. There were platoons, battalions of them. They didn't need Gern's hammer any more.
'It's the pickle,' said the king, as they watched half-a-dozen ancestors mummyhandle a seal out of its socket. 'It toughens youthe Kingdom got the hang of pyramids. It was barely more than a pile.
Hacked into the doorseal, angular and deep, were the hieroglyphs of the Kingdom: KHUFT HAD ME MADE. THE FIRST.
Several ancestors clustered around it.
'Oh dear,' said the king. 'This might be going too far.'
'The First,' whispered Dil. 'The First into the Kingdom: No-one here before but hippos and crocodiles. From inside that pyramid seventy centuries look out at us. Older than anything-' up.' Some of the more ancient were getting over enthusiastic and attacking the pyramids themselves, actually managing to shift blocks higher than they were. The king didn't blame them. How terrible to be dead, and know you were dead, and locked away in the darkness. They're never going to get me in one of those things, he vowed. At last they came, like a tide, to yet another pyramid. - It was small, low, dark, half-concealed in drifted sands, and the blocks were hardly even masonry; they were no more than roughly squared boulders. It had clearly been built long before

John Constable Salisbury Cathedral from the Meadows

John Constable Salisbury Cathedral from the MeadowsJohn Constable Hadleigh CastleJohn Constable Flatford MillJohn William Waterhouse The Magic CircleJohn William Waterhouse Pandora
boat didn't glide. It insinuated itself through the water, dancing across the waves on the tips of the twelve oars, spreading like an oil slick, gliding like a bird. It was man black and shaped like a shark.
on the shoulder and motioned him up, steadied him as he stepped overboard into a few feet of water. By the time he'd waded ashore the boat had turned and was a mere suspicion of a shadow downstream.
Because he was naturally curious, Teppic wondered where it would lie up during the day, since it had the look about it of a boat designed to travel only under cover of darkness, and decided that it'd probably lurk somewhere in the high reed marshes on the delta.There was no drummer to beat the rhythm. The boat didn't want the weight. Anyway, he'd have needed the full kit, including snares. Teppic sat between the lines of silent rowers, in the narrow gully that was the cargo hold. Better not to speculate what cargoes. The boat looked designed to move very small quantities of things very quickly and without anyone noticing, and he doubted whether even the Smugglers' Guild was aware of its existence. Commerce was more interesting than he thought. They found the delta with suspicious ease - how many times had this whispering shadow slipped up the river, he wondered - and above the exotic smells from the mysterious former cargo he could detect the scents of home. Crocodile dung. Reed pollen. Waterlily blossoms. Lack of plumbing. The rank of lions and reek of hippos. The leading oarsman tapped him gently

Caravaggio Beheading of Saint John the Baptist

Caravaggio Beheading of Saint John the BaptistJohannes Vermeer Woman with a Pearl NecklaceJohannes Vermeer Saint PraxidisJohannes Vermeer Lady Standing at a VirginalJohannes Vermeer A Lady Writing a Letter
Well, she'd be back. There was a big world out there, and she knew how to pull the levers that made people do what she wanted. She wouldn't burden herself with a husband this time, either. Weak! He was the worst of them, no courage in him to be as bad as he knew he was, inside.
She was still a track, and it went more or less in the right direction, but the trees on either side of it were planted rather more thickly than one might expect and, when she tried to turn back, there was no track at all behind her. She took to turning suddenly, half expecting to see the trees moving, but they were always standing stoically and firmly rooted in the moss.
She couldn't feel a wind, but there was a sighing in the treetops.landed heavily on the moss, paused to catch her breath and then, with the knife ready in her hand, slipped away along the castle walls and into the forest.She'd go all the way down to the far border and swim the river there, or maybe build a raft. By morning she'd be too far away for them ever to find her, and she doubted very much that they'd ever come looking.Weak!She moved through the forest with surprising speed. There were tracks, after all, wide enough for carts, and she had a pretty good sense of direction. Besides, all she needed to do was go downhill. If she found the gorge then she just had to follow the flow.And then there seemed to be too many trees. There

Herbert James Draper Pot Pourri

Herbert James Draper Pot PourriHerbert James Draper Portrait Of Miss Barbara De SelincourtHerbert James Draper Day and the DawnstarGeorge Inness The Delaware Water GapGeorge Inness Spring
'S'all right,' he said, to the bar at large. 'He don't mean it, he ver' funny wossname, idiot. Fool. Ver' funny Fool, all way from wassisplace.'
'Lancre,' said the Fool, and sat down heavily on the bar.
'S'right. Long way away from wossname, sounds like foot disease. Don't know how to behave. Don't know many dwarfs.'
'Hahaha,' said the Fool, clutching his head. 'Bit short of them where I come from.'
Someone tapped Hwel on the shoulder. He turned and looked into a craggy, hairy face under an iron helmet. The dwarf in question was tossing a throwing axe up and down in a meaningful way.
'You ought to tell your friend to be a bit less funny,' he suggested. 'Otherwise he will be amusing the demons in Hell!'
Hwel squinted at him through the alcoholic haze.
'Who're you?' he .
'Here, you're not with the theatre?'
'Tha's us,' said Tomjon. 'Strolling players.' He corrected himself. 'Standing-still players nowsaid.'Grabpot Thundergust,' said the dwarf, striking his chain-mailed torso. 'And I say—'Hwel peered closer.'Here, I know you,' he said. 'You got a cosmetics mill down Hobfast Street. I bought a lot of greasepaint off you last week—'A look of panic crossed Thundergust's face. He leaned forward in panic. 'Shutup, shutup,' he whispered.'That's right, it said the Halls of Elven Perfume and Rouge Co.,' said Hwel happily.'Ver' good stuff,' said Tomjon, who was trying to stop himself from sliding off the tiny bench. 'Especially your No. 19, Corpse Green, my father swears it's the best. First class.'The dwarf hefted-his axe uneasily. 'Well, er,' he said. 'Oh. But. Yes. Well, thank you. Only the finest ingredients, mark you.''Chop them up with that, do you?' said Hwel innocently, pointing to the axe. 'Or is it your night off?'Thundergust's brows beetled again like a cockroach convention

Jean Francois Millet Harvesters Resting

Jean Francois Millet Harvesters RestingJean Francois Millet GardenHerbert James Draper Ulysses and the SirensHerbert James Draper LamiaHerbert James Draper Lament for Icarus
'Grodley,' said Nanny Ogg. 'Sticks her little finger out when she drinks her tea and drops her Haitches all the time.'
'Yes. Hwell. I haven't hlowered myself to talk to her hever since that business with the gibbet, you recall. I daresay she'd just love to come snooping haround here, running her fingers over heverything and sniffing, telling us how to do things. Oh. yes. Help. We'd all be in a fine to-do if we went around helping all the time.'
'Yes, and and rivalry. There were differences in style, of course. Wizards assassinated each other in draughty corridors, witches just cut one another dead in the street. And they were all as self-centred as a spinning top. Even when they help other people, she thought, they're secretly doing it for themselves. Honestly, they're just like big children.
Except for me, she thought smugly.over Skund way the trees talk to you and walk around of night,' said Nanny. 'Without even asking permission. Very poor organisation.''Not really good organisation, like we've got here?' said Magrat.Granny stood up purposefully.'I'm going home,' she said.There are thousands of good reasons why magic doesn't rule the world. They're called witches and wizards. Magrat reflected, as she followed the other two back to the road.It was probably some wonderful organisation on the part of Nature to protect itself. It saw to it that everyone with any magical talent was about as ready to co-operate as a she-bear with toothache, so all that dangerous power was safely dissipated as random bickering

Claude Monet Snow at Argenteuil

Claude Monet Snow at ArgenteuilClaude Monet Houses of Parliament LondonClaude Monet Custom Officer's Cabin at VarengvilleClaude Monet ChrysanthemumsClaude Monet Camille Monet in the Garden
don't, do we?' said Granny, calmly. 'Naturally we'd like to hear how he gets along. You could send us letters and suchlike. But it would not be a good idea to talk about all this after you've left, do you see? For the sake of the child.'
Mrs Vitoller looked at the two old women.
'There's something else here, isn't there?' she said. 'Something big behind all this?'
Granny hesitated, and then nodded.
'But it would do us no good at all to know it?'
Another nod.
Granny compared to the others!'
'It just goes to show, doesn't it,' said Granny. 'Did anyone see you?'
'No, everyone was too busy, but—' Magrat hesitated, and blushed.stood up as several actors came in, breaking the spell. Actors had a habit of filling all the space around them.'I have other things to see to,' she said. 'Please excuse me.''What's his name?' said Vitoller.'Tom,' said Granny, hardly hesitating.'John,' said Nanny. The two witches exchanged glances. Granny won.'Tom John,' she said firmly, and swept out.She met a breathless Magrat outside the door.'I found a box,' she said. 'It had all the crowns and things in. So I put it in, like you said, right underneath everything.''Good,' said Granny.'Our crown looked really tatty

Salvador Dali Meditation on the Harp

Salvador Dali Meditation on the HarpSalvador Dali Galatea of the SpheresSalvador Dali Galarina
way to find out, anyway.'
He pulled now,' said Mort.
'Yes, but – oh, never mind:'
Albert brushed past them and sidled out into the hallway like a two-legged spider until he reached the door that was always kept locked. The key fitted perfectly. The door swung open. There wasn't so much as a squeak from its hinges, just a swish of deeper silence.
And the roar of sand.open the top drawer of Death's desk and extracted a big iron keyring. There was only one key on it.WHAT HAPPENS NOW? said Mort.'We've got to fetch the lifetimers,' said Albert. 'You have to come with me.''Mort!' hissed Ysabell.'What?''What you just said —' She lapsed into silence, and then added, 'Oh, nothing. It just sounded . . . odd.''I only asked what happens

Claude Monet Water-Lilies 1914

Claude Monet Water-Lilies 1914Claude Monet The Seine at Rouen IClaude Monet The Road Bridge at Argenteuil
wondering whether it was time to change the fat or let it bide for another year. He turned as Mort slid into a chair.
'You had a busy tune of it, then,' he said. 'Gallivanting all over the place until all hours, I heard. I could do you an egg. Or there's porridge.'
'Egg, please,' said Mort. He'd never plucked up the courage to try Albert's 'The master wants to see you after,' Albert added, 'but he said you wasn't to rush.'
'Oh.' Mort 'In Ankh, of course.'
'What?' said Mort. They don't have kings in Ankh-Morpork, everyone knows that!'
'This was back a bit, I said,' said Albert. He poured himself a cup of tea from Death's personal teapot and sat down, a dreamy look in his crusted eyes. Mort waited expectantly.
'And they was kings in those days, real kings, not like stared at the table. 'Did he say anything else?''He said he hadn't had an evening off in a thousand years,' said Albert. 'He was humming. I don't like it. I've never seen him like this.''Oh.' Mort took the plunge. 'Albert, have you been here long?'Albert looked at him over the top of his spectacles.'Maybe,' he said. 'It's hard to keep track of outside time, boy. I bin here since just after the old king died.''Which king, Albert?''Artorollo, I think he was called. Little fat man. Squeaky voice. I only saw him the once, though.''Where was this?'

Vincent van Gogh Cafe Terrace at Night

Vincent van Gogh Cafe Terrace at NightVincent van Gogh The BedroomVincent van Gogh Wheatfield with Crows
CONSOLATION, THOUGH, THE HORSE NEEDS TO BE FAST.
'Eh?'
Death allowed his fixed grin to widen a little.
I HAVE AN APPOINTMENT WITH ITS RIDER TOMORROW IN ANKH, said Death. YOU SEE, HE ALLOWED THE DUKE TO PROVIDE HIM WITH A PACKED LUNCH.
The king, whose eminent suitability for his job meant that he was not automatically quick on the uptake, considered this for a moment and then gave a short laugh. He noticed Mort for the first time.
'Who's this?' 'That's my daughter,' said the king. 'I ought to feel sad. Why don't I?'
EMOTIONS GET LEFT BEHIND. IT'S ALL A MATTER OF GLANDS.
'Ah. That would be it, I suppose. She can't see us, can she?'
NO.
'I suppose there's no chance that I could —?'he said, 'He dead too?'MY APPRENTICE, said Death. WHO WILL BE GETTING A GOOD TALKING-TO BEFORE HE'S MUCH OLDER, THE SCALLYWAG.'Mort,' said Mort automatically. The sound of their talking washed around him, but he couldn't take his eyes off the scene around them. He felt real. Death looked solid. The king looked surprisingly fit and well for someone who was dead. But the rest of the world was a mass of sliding shadows. Figures were bent over the slumped body, moving through Mort as if they were no more substantial than a mist.The girl was kneeling down, weeping.

Tamara de Lempicka Adam and Eve

Tamara de Lempicka Adam and EveWassily Kandinsky Squares with ConcentricPierre-Auguste Cot Springtime
suddenly looks out of the magnificent mountains, snow-covered, stretching into the icefields of infinity. No one would ever Borrow that mind, it would be like trying to drink all the sea. The thoughts that moved through it were as knew she would turn back, and she wasn't sure she knew the way. She tried to remember the eighteen herbs that cured ear-ache, which kept her occupied for a while because she could never recall the last four.
A star swooped past, and then was violently jerked away; it was about twenty feet acrossbig and as slow as glaciers. Beyond the Disc were the stars, and there was something wrong with them. They were swirling like snowflakes. Every now and again they would settle down and look as immobile as they always did, and then they'd suddenly take it into their heads to dance. Real stars shouldn't do that, Esk decided. Which meant she wasn't looking at real stars. Which meant she wasn't exactly in a real place. But a chittering close at hand reminded her that she could almost certainly really die if she once lost track of those noises. She turned and pursued the sounds through the stellar snowstorm. And the stars jumped, and settled, jumped, and settled .... As she swooped upward Esk tried to concentrate on everyday things, because if she let her mind dwell on precisely what it was she was following then she

John Collier Spring

John Collier SpringCaravaggio The Crucifixion of Saint PeterCaravaggio The Cardsharps
Amschat, "especially if he was the only assayer in town."
The assayer grumbled a bit at this, but at last they settled on three zats and one of the spircles on a thin silver chain for Esk.
When they the same that is because most people don't use their eyes in the right way. Nothing can entirely disguise its true nature.
Instead she said: "The dwarves mine spircles near the village where I was born, and you soon learn to see how they bend light in a funny way."
Amschat looked into her eyes for some time. Then he shrugged.
"Okay," he said. "Fine. Well, I have some . Why don't you buy yourself some new clothes, or something? I'd warn you against unscrupulous traders but, somehow, I don't know, I don't think you will have any trouble."were out of earshot Amschat handed her the tiny silver coins and said: "These are yours. You have earned them. But -" he hunkered down so that his eyes were on a level with hers, "- you must tell me how you knew the stones were false." He looked worried, but Esk sensed that he wouldn't really like the truth. Magic made people uncomfortable. He wouldn't like it if she said simply: spircles are spircles and ultramarines are ultramarines, and though you may think they look

Thomas Kinkade Graceland

Thomas Kinkade GracelandThomas Kinkade Deer Creek CottageThomas Kinkade Cobblestone Bridge
She wandered around the dark kitchen until she found a scrap of dip candle and a tinderbox. After a great deal of effort she managed to light the candle and stood it on the table, although it didn't really light the room, it simply peopled the darkness with shadows. Then she found Granny's rocking chair by the cold fireplace, and settled down to wait.
Time passed. Nothing happened.
Then there .
Something nasty comes, the boys had said.
She felt her way back across the room until she nearly tripped over the rocking chair, and dragged it back and wedged it as best she could in front of the door. The latch gave a final clonk and went silent.
Esk waited, listening until the silence roared in her ears. Then something started to bang against the little window in the scullery, softly but insistently. After a while it stopped. A moment later it started again in the bedroom above her- a faint scrabbling noise, a claw kind of noise.was a tapping at the window. Esk took up the candle stub and peered through the thick round panes. A beady yellow eye blinked back at her. The candle guttered, and went out. She stood stock still, hardly breathing. The tapping started again, and then stopped. There was a short silence, and then the doorlatch rattled

Peder Mork Monsted A River Landscape in Springtime

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incredulously and got the other elbow in the kidneys.
Cohen cursed as he struggled to untangle his sword from his robe while hopping crabwise towards Herrena. Rincewind groaned, gritted his teeth, and jerked his head backwards hard. There was a scream from Weems and Rincewind rolled sideways, landed heavily in the mud, scrambled up madly and looked around for somewhere to hide.
With a cry of triumph Cohen managed to free his sword and waved it triumphantly, severely wounding a man who had Twoflower with his sword drawn.
Rincewind saw him hesitate. There was a moment of silence, and then even Herrena could hear the splashing as the Luggage surged ashore, water pouring from it.
Weems stared at it in horror. His sword fell from his hand. He turned and ran into the mists. A moment later he Luggage bounded over Rincewind and followed him.
Herrena lunged at Cohen, who parried the thrust and grunted as his arm twinged. The blades clanged been creeping up behind him.Herrena pushed Twoflower off her horse and fumbled for her own blade. Twoflower tried to stand up and caused the horse of another man to rear, throwing him off and bringing his head down to the right level for Rincewind to kick it as hard as possible. Rincewind would be the first to call himself a rat, but even rats fight in a corner.Weems' hands dropped onto his shoulder and a fist like a medium-sized rock slammed into his head.As he went down he heard Herrena say, quite quietly, 'Kill them both. I'll deal with this old fool.''Roight!' said Weems, and turned towards

Joaquin Sorolla y Bastida Sewing the Sail

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'Oh no,' he said. 'Where I come from priests are holy men who have dedicated themselves to lives of poverty, good works and the study of the nature of God.'
Rincewind considered this novel proposition.
'No sacrifices?' he said.
'Absolutely not.'
Rincewind gave up. 'Well,' he said, 'they don't sound very holy to me.'
There was a Man with the Universe, that was what he said.'
Rincewind looked sourly at the procession. As the druids spread out around a great flat stone that dominated the centre of the circle he couldn't help noticing the rather pale young lady in their midst. She wore a long white robe, a gold torc around her neck, and an expression of vague apprehension.
'Is she a druidess?' said Twoflower.loud blarting noise from a band of bronze trumpets. Rincewind looked around. A line of druids marched slowly past, their long sickles hung with sprays of mistletoe. Various junior druids and apprentices followed them, playing a variety of percussion instruments that were traditionally supposed to drive away evil spirits and quite probably succeeded.Torchlight made excitingly dramatic patterns on the stones, which stood ominously against the green-lit sky. Hubwards, the shimmering curtains of the aurora coriolis began to wink and glitter among the stars as a million ice rystals danced in the Disc's magical field.'Belafon explained it all to me,' whispered Twoflower. We're going to see a time-honoured ceremony that celebrates the Oneness of

Claude Monet Monet's Garden at argenteuil

Claude Monet Monet's Garden at argenteuilPaul Gauguin Woman with a FlowerPaul Gauguin The Seed of AreoiPaul Gauguin The Moon and the Earth
where the frog had been, was a frog.
"Fantastic," said Rincewind.
The frog gazed at him reproachfully.
"Really amazing," said Rincewind sourly. "A frog magically transformed into a frog. Wondrous."
"Turn a dragonfly. And one of the few genuinely magical facts that Rincewind knew was that no god or goddess, contrary and volatile as they might be in all other respects, could change the colour or nature of their eyes...
"L-"he began. She raised a hand.
"You know that if you say my name I must depart," she around," said a voice behind them. It was a soft, feminine voice, almost an inviting voice, the sort of voice you could have a few drinks with, but it was coming from a spot where there oughtn't to be a voice at all. They managed to turn without really moving, like a couple of statues revolving on plinths.There was a woman standing in the pre-dawn light. She looked - she was - she had a - in point of actual fact she...Later Rincewind and Twoflower couldn't quite agree on any single fact about her, except that she had appeared to be beautiful (precisely what physical features made her beautiful they could not, definitively, state) and that she had green eyes. Not the pale green of ordinary eyes, either these were the green of fresh emeralds and as iridescent as

Nicolas De Stael Agrigente 1953

Nicolas De Stael Agrigente 1953Rodney White Small ChangeRodney White Share a Random MomentUnknown Artist Woodland Walk
turned up?" said the voice. "You summoned it!"
"Yes, well, all I did-"
"You have the Power! "
"All I did was think of it."
"That's of the matter is that dragons have never existed as you (and, until I was poisoned some three months ago,) I understand existence. I'm talking about the true dragon, draconis nobilis, you understand; the swamp dragon, draconis vulgaris, is a base creature and not worth our consideration. The true dragon, on the other hand, is a creature of such refinement of spirit that they can only take on form in this world if they are conceived by the most skilled what the Power is. Have I already told you that I am Greicha the First? Or is that next? I'm sorry, but I haven't had too much experience of transcendence. Anyway, yes - the Power. It summons dragons, you know.""I think you already told me that," said Twoflower."Did I? I certainly intended to," said the dead man."But how does it? I've been thinking about this is the first time one has turned up.""Oh well, you see, the truth