Alexandre Cabanel Cleopatra Testing Poisons on Condemned PrisonersJulien Dupre Shepherdess With Her FlockJulien Dupre Returning From the FieldsCamille Pissarro The Hermitage at PontoiseMary Cassatt Children on the Shore
knew the purpose of. There was a huge oilskin hood that could be erected in a matter of hours to protect its occupant from showers, storms and, probably, meteor strikes and falling buildings. By way of fight relief, the front Dean firmly. ‘It must weigh at least a ton. We ought to leave him behind, anyway. He’s too old for this sort of thing.’
‘When I was a lad I was over this wall, nun, every night,’ said Poons, resentfully. He chuckled. ‘We had some scrapes in those days, I can tell you. If I had a penny, mm, for every time the Watch chased me home,’ his ancient lips moved in a sudden frenzy of calculation, ‘I’d have fivepence‑ha’penny.’
‘Maybe if we‑‘ the Chair began, and then said ‘What do you mean, fivepence‑ha’penny?’handle was adorned with a selection of trumpets, hooters and whistles, with which Poons was wont to announce his progress around the passages and quadrangles of the University. For the fact was that although the wheelchair needed all the efforts of one strong man to get it moving it had, once actually locomotive, a sort of ponderous unstoppability; it may have had brakes, but Windle Poons had never bothered to find out. Staff and students alike knew that the only hope of survival, if they heard a honk or a blast at close range, was to flatten themselves against the nearest wall while the dreaded conveyance rattled by.‘We’ll never get that over,’ said the
Tuesday, March 31, 2009
Monday, March 30, 2009
Edward Hopper Portrait of Orleans
Edward Hopper Portrait of OrleansEdward Hopper Pont du Carrousel in the FogEdward Hopper Painter and ModelEdward Hopper Office in a Small CityEdward Hopper New York Restaurant
Events always moved fast in Holy Wood, but the work on Blown Away sped forward like a comet. The other Fruitbat clicks were halted. So were most of the others in the town, because Dibbler was hiring actors and handlemen at twice what anyone else would pay.
And a sort of Ankh-Morpork rose among the dunes. It would have been cheaper, Soll complained, to have risked the wrath of the wizards, sneaked some filming in Ankh-Morpork itself, and then slipped someone a fistful of dollars to put a match to the place.
Dibbler disagreed.
‘Apart that even Dibbler didn’t shout at her. She kept glaring at Gaspode, who tried to stay out of her way.
Dibbler was preoccupied, anyway. He was in his office, explaining The Plot.
It was basically quite simple, running on the familiar lines of Boy Meets Girl, Girl Meets Another Boy, Boy Loses Girl, except that on this occasion there was a civil war in the from anything else,’ he declared, ‘it wouldn’t look right.’ ‘But it’s the real Ankh-Morpork, Uncle,’ said Soll. ‘It’s got to look exactly right. How can it not look right?’ ‘Ankh-Morpork doesn’t look all that genuine, you know,’ said Dibbler thoughtfully. ‘Of course it’s bloody genuine!’ snapped Soll, the bonds of .kinship stretching to snapping point. ‘It’s really there! It’s really itself! You can’t make it any more genuine! It’s as genuine as it can get!’ Dibbler took his cigar out of his mouth. ‘No, it isn’t,’ he said. ‘You’ll see.’ Ginger turned up around lunchtime, looking so pale
Events always moved fast in Holy Wood, but the work on Blown Away sped forward like a comet. The other Fruitbat clicks were halted. So were most of the others in the town, because Dibbler was hiring actors and handlemen at twice what anyone else would pay.
And a sort of Ankh-Morpork rose among the dunes. It would have been cheaper, Soll complained, to have risked the wrath of the wizards, sneaked some filming in Ankh-Morpork itself, and then slipped someone a fistful of dollars to put a match to the place.
Dibbler disagreed.
‘Apart that even Dibbler didn’t shout at her. She kept glaring at Gaspode, who tried to stay out of her way.
Dibbler was preoccupied, anyway. He was in his office, explaining The Plot.
It was basically quite simple, running on the familiar lines of Boy Meets Girl, Girl Meets Another Boy, Boy Loses Girl, except that on this occasion there was a civil war in the from anything else,’ he declared, ‘it wouldn’t look right.’ ‘But it’s the real Ankh-Morpork, Uncle,’ said Soll. ‘It’s got to look exactly right. How can it not look right?’ ‘Ankh-Morpork doesn’t look all that genuine, you know,’ said Dibbler thoughtfully. ‘Of course it’s bloody genuine!’ snapped Soll, the bonds of .kinship stretching to snapping point. ‘It’s really there! It’s really itself! You can’t make it any more genuine! It’s as genuine as it can get!’ Dibbler took his cigar out of his mouth. ‘No, it isn’t,’ he said. ‘You’ll see.’ Ginger turned up around lunchtime, looking so pale
Thursday, March 26, 2009
Juan Gris Violin and Guitar
Juan Gris Violin and GuitarJuan Gris Violin and GlassJuan Gris Violin and CheckerboardJuan Gris Man in the CafeJuan Gris Landscape with Houses at Ceret
We’re shooting first thing in the morning,’ said Dibbler.
‘But Mr Silverfish said I wasn’t going to work in this town again-’ Victor began.
Dibbler opened his mouth, and hesitated just for a moment. ‘Ah. Yes. But I’m going to give you another chance,’ he said, speaking quite slowly for once. ‘Yeah. A chance. Like, you’re young people. Headstrong. Young once myself. Dibbler, I thought, even if it means cutting your own throat, give ‘em a chance. Lower wages, of
Dibbler waved a finger under his nose, and then hesitated.
‘I like it!’ he said eventually. ‘Tough bargainer! OK. Three dollars.’
‘Fifteen.’
‘Five’s my last offer, kid. There’s thousacourse. A dollar a day, how about that?’ Victor saw the look of sudden hope on Ginger’s face. He opened his mouth. ‘Fifteen dollars,’ said a voice. It wasn’t his. He shut his mouth. ‘What?’ said Dibbler. Victor opened his mouth. ‘Fifteen dollars. Renegot’ble after a week. Fifteen dollars or nuffin’.’ Victor shut his mouth, his eyes rolling.nds of people down there who’d jump at it, right?’
‘Name two, Mr Dibbler.’
We’re shooting first thing in the morning,’ said Dibbler.
‘But Mr Silverfish said I wasn’t going to work in this town again-’ Victor began.
Dibbler opened his mouth, and hesitated just for a moment. ‘Ah. Yes. But I’m going to give you another chance,’ he said, speaking quite slowly for once. ‘Yeah. A chance. Like, you’re young people. Headstrong. Young once myself. Dibbler, I thought, even if it means cutting your own throat, give ‘em a chance. Lower wages, of
Dibbler waved a finger under his nose, and then hesitated.
‘I like it!’ he said eventually. ‘Tough bargainer! OK. Three dollars.’
‘Fifteen.’
‘Five’s my last offer, kid. There’s thousacourse. A dollar a day, how about that?’ Victor saw the look of sudden hope on Ginger’s face. He opened his mouth. ‘Fifteen dollars,’ said a voice. It wasn’t his. He shut his mouth. ‘What?’ said Dibbler. Victor opened his mouth. ‘Fifteen dollars. Renegot’ble after a week. Fifteen dollars or nuffin’.’ Victor shut his mouth, his eyes rolling.nds of people down there who’d jump at it, right?’
‘Name two, Mr Dibbler.’
Wednesday, March 25, 2009
Thomas Kinkade Elegant Evening at Biltmore
Thomas Kinkade Elegant Evening at BiltmoreThomas Kinkade DawsonThomas Kinkade CourageThomas Kinkade City by the BayThomas Kinkade Blessings of Christmas
birds, and what he normally shouted was, ‘Winged you, yer bastard!’
The beasts of the field and fowls of the air did know Ridcully the Brown. They’d got so good at patternrecognition that, for a radius of about twenty miles around the Ridcully estates, they’d run, hide or in desperate down on the hooks even to make them sink.)
And he ordered beer with his breakfast.
And told jokes.
On the other hand, thought the Bursar, at least he didn’t interfere with the actual running of the University. Ridcully the Brown wasn’t the least interested in running anything except maybe a string of hounds. If you couldn’t shoot arrows at it, hunt it or hook it, he couldn’t see much point in it. cases attack violently at the mere sight of a pointy hat. Within twelve hours of arriving, Ridcully had installed a pack of hunting dragons in the butler’s pantry, fired his dreadful crossbow at the ravens on the ancient Tower of Art, drunk a dozen bottles of red wine, and rolled off to bed at two in the morning singing a song with words in it that some of the older and more forgetful wizards had to look up. And then he got up at five o’clock to go duck hunting down in the marshes on the estuary. And came back complaining that there wasn’t a good trout fishin’ river for miles. (You couldn’t fish in the river Ankh; you had to jump up and
birds, and what he normally shouted was, ‘Winged you, yer bastard!’
The beasts of the field and fowls of the air did know Ridcully the Brown. They’d got so good at patternrecognition that, for a radius of about twenty miles around the Ridcully estates, they’d run, hide or in desperate down on the hooks even to make them sink.)
And he ordered beer with his breakfast.
And told jokes.
On the other hand, thought the Bursar, at least he didn’t interfere with the actual running of the University. Ridcully the Brown wasn’t the least interested in running anything except maybe a string of hounds. If you couldn’t shoot arrows at it, hunt it or hook it, he couldn’t see much point in it. cases attack violently at the mere sight of a pointy hat. Within twelve hours of arriving, Ridcully had installed a pack of hunting dragons in the butler’s pantry, fired his dreadful crossbow at the ravens on the ancient Tower of Art, drunk a dozen bottles of red wine, and rolled off to bed at two in the morning singing a song with words in it that some of the older and more forgetful wizards had to look up. And then he got up at five o’clock to go duck hunting down in the marshes on the estuary. And came back complaining that there wasn’t a good trout fishin’ river for miles. (You couldn’t fish in the river Ankh; you had to jump up and
Tuesday, March 24, 2009
Thomas Moran Grand Canyon
Thomas Moran Grand CanyonJean Francois Millet The sowerJean Francois Millet SpringJean Francois Millet Man with a hoeLorenzo Lotto Venus and Cupid
buzzed in the scrub bushes. His education hadn't included a course in Famous Last Words.
He raised his eyes in the direction of home.
'Go, tell the Teppic. After Ankh-Morpork, which was almost its direct opposite (in Ankh, even the bedding was alive) it was probably the biggest city on the Disc; its streets were the finest, its architecture the most majestic and awe-inspiring.
In population terms the necropolis outstripped the other cities of the Old Kingdom, but its people didn't get out much and there was nothing to do on Saturday nights.
Until now.Ephebians-' he began. The soldiers waited. 'What?' said Autocue after a while. 'Go and tell them what?' The sergeant relaxed, like air being let out of a balloon. 'Go and tell them, what kept you?' he said. On the near horizon another column of dust was advancing. This was more like it. If there was going to be a massacre, then it ought to be shared by both sides. The city of the dead lay before
buzzed in the scrub bushes. His education hadn't included a course in Famous Last Words.
He raised his eyes in the direction of home.
'Go, tell the Teppic. After Ankh-Morpork, which was almost its direct opposite (in Ankh, even the bedding was alive) it was probably the biggest city on the Disc; its streets were the finest, its architecture the most majestic and awe-inspiring.
In population terms the necropolis outstripped the other cities of the Old Kingdom, but its people didn't get out much and there was nothing to do on Saturday nights.
Until now.Ephebians-' he began. The soldiers waited. 'What?' said Autocue after a while. 'Go and tell them what?' The sergeant relaxed, like air being let out of a balloon. 'Go and tell them, what kept you?' he said. On the near horizon another column of dust was advancing. This was more like it. If there was going to be a massacre, then it ought to be shared by both sides. The city of the dead lay before
Friday, March 20, 2009
Alphonse Maria Mucha Spring
Alphonse Maria Mucha SpringAlphonse Maria Mucha JOBAlphonse Maria Mucha GismondaPierre Auguste Renoir The UmbrellasPierre Auguste Renoir Les baigneuses
will be magnificent. Too big, but - magnificent,' said Dios. He looked out between the pillars at the necropolic panorama on the far bank of the Djel.
'Magnificent,' he repeated. He winced once more at the stab of pain in his leg. Ah. He'd have to cross the river again tonight, 'I exist only to serve.'
Teppic joined him on the balcony. The early evening sun glowed on a man-made mountain range. This was only the central massif; the pyramids stretched from the delta all the way up to the second cataract, where the Djel disappeared into the mountains. And the pyramids occupied the best land, near the river. Even the farmers would have considered it sacrilegious to suggest anything different. no doubt of it. He'd been foolish, putting it off for days. But it would be unthinkable not to be in a position to serve the kingdom properly. 'Something wrong, Dios?' said Teppic. 'Sire?' 'You looked a bit pale, I thought.' A look of panic flickered over Dios's wrinkled features. He pulled himself upright. 'I assure you, sire, I am in the best of health. The best of health, sire!' 'You don't think you've been overdoing it, do you?' This time there was no mistaking the expression of terror. 'Overdoing what, sire?' 'You're always bustling, Dios. First one up, last one to bed. You should take it easy.' 'I exist only to serve, sire,' said Dios, firmly.
will be magnificent. Too big, but - magnificent,' said Dios. He looked out between the pillars at the necropolic panorama on the far bank of the Djel.
'Magnificent,' he repeated. He winced once more at the stab of pain in his leg. Ah. He'd have to cross the river again tonight, 'I exist only to serve.'
Teppic joined him on the balcony. The early evening sun glowed on a man-made mountain range. This was only the central massif; the pyramids stretched from the delta all the way up to the second cataract, where the Djel disappeared into the mountains. And the pyramids occupied the best land, near the river. Even the farmers would have considered it sacrilegious to suggest anything different. no doubt of it. He'd been foolish, putting it off for days. But it would be unthinkable not to be in a position to serve the kingdom properly. 'Something wrong, Dios?' said Teppic. 'Sire?' 'You looked a bit pale, I thought.' A look of panic flickered over Dios's wrinkled features. He pulled himself upright. 'I assure you, sire, I am in the best of health. The best of health, sire!' 'You don't think you've been overdoing it, do you?' This time there was no mistaking the expression of terror. 'Overdoing what, sire?' 'You're always bustling, Dios. First one up, last one to bed. You should take it easy.' 'I exist only to serve, sire,' said Dios, firmly.
Wednesday, March 18, 2009
Claude Monet Haystack At Giverny
Claude Monet Haystack At GivernyClaude Monet Monet Water Lillies IDaniel Ridgway Knight On the Way to MarketDaniel Ridgway Knight Shepherdess and her FlockDaniel Ridgway Knight Hailing the Ferry
Granny moved her hand across at snakebite speed and caught the spear just behind the head.
'So,' she said, 'and it comes to this, does it?'
'You don't frighten me, wyrd sisters,' said the duchess.
Granny stared her in the eye for a few seconds. She gave a grunt of surprise.
'You're right,' she said. 'We really don't, do we . . .'
'Do you think I, the first to dare to speak. Granny smirked.
'Headology,' said Granny, and smirked. 'You don't need any Black Aliss magic for it.'
'Yes, but what have you done?' haven't studied you? Your witchcraft is all artifice and illusion, to amaze weak minds. It holds no fears for me. Do your worst.'Granny studied her for a while.'My worst?' she said, eventually. Magrat and Nanny Ogg shuffled gently out of her way.The duchess laughed.'You're clever,' she said. 'I'll grant you that much. And quick. Come on, hag. Bring on your toads and demons, I'll . . .'She stopped, her mouth opening and shutting a bit without any words emerging. Her lips drew back in a rictus of terror, her eyes looked beyond Granny, beyond the world, towards something else. One knuckled hand flew to her mouth and she made a little whimpering noise. She froze, like a rabbit that has just seen a stoat and knows, without any doubt, that it is the last stoat that it will ever see.'What have you done to her?' said Magrat
Granny moved her hand across at snakebite speed and caught the spear just behind the head.
'So,' she said, 'and it comes to this, does it?'
'You don't frighten me, wyrd sisters,' said the duchess.
Granny stared her in the eye for a few seconds. She gave a grunt of surprise.
'You're right,' she said. 'We really don't, do we . . .'
'Do you think I, the first to dare to speak. Granny smirked.
'Headology,' said Granny, and smirked. 'You don't need any Black Aliss magic for it.'
'Yes, but what have you done?' haven't studied you? Your witchcraft is all artifice and illusion, to amaze weak minds. It holds no fears for me. Do your worst.'Granny studied her for a while.'My worst?' she said, eventually. Magrat and Nanny Ogg shuffled gently out of her way.The duchess laughed.'You're clever,' she said. 'I'll grant you that much. And quick. Come on, hag. Bring on your toads and demons, I'll . . .'She stopped, her mouth opening and shutting a bit without any words emerging. Her lips drew back in a rictus of terror, her eyes looked beyond Granny, beyond the world, towards something else. One knuckled hand flew to her mouth and she made a little whimpering noise. She froze, like a rabbit that has just seen a stoat and knows, without any doubt, that it is the last stoat that it will ever see.'What have you done to her?' said Magrat
Tuesday, March 17, 2009
Fabian Perez Waiting For the Romance to Come Back II
Fabian Perez Waiting For the Romance to Come Back IIFabian Perez VeniceFabian Perez For a Better Life IIIFabian Perez Untitled IIThomas Kinkade The Aspen Chapel
'Leave me a bit,' shouted Magrat. 'I've got to get down!'
'Shouldn't be difficult,' screamed Granny, above the noise of the wind.
'I mean get down safely!'
'You're a witch, ain't you? By the way, did you bring the cocoa? I'm freezing up here!'
Magrat nodded desperately, and with her spare hand passed up a straw bag.
'Right,' said Granny. 'Well done. See you at Lancre Bridge.'
She uncurled her fingers.
Magrat whirled away in the buffeting wind, clinging tightly to a broomstick which now, she feared, had about as much buoyancy as a bit of firewood. It certainly wasn't capable of sustaining a full-grown woman against the frightened woman gliding inexorably towards the inhospitable ground to a clearheaded, optimistic and positive thinking woman who had really got it together, was taking full responsibility for her own life and in general knew where she was coming from although, unfortunately, where she was heading had not changed in any way. But she felt a lot better about it.beckoning fingers of gravity.As she plunged down towards the forest roof in a long shallow dive she reflected that there was possibly something complimentary in the way Granny Weatherwax resolutely refused to consider other people's problems. It implied that, in her considerable opinion, they were quite capable of sorting them out by themselves.Some kind of Change spell was probably in order.Magrat concentrated.Well, that seemed to work.Nothing in the sight of mortal man had in fact changed. What Magrat had achieved was a mere adjustment of the mental processes, from a bewildered and slightly
'Leave me a bit,' shouted Magrat. 'I've got to get down!'
'Shouldn't be difficult,' screamed Granny, above the noise of the wind.
'I mean get down safely!'
'You're a witch, ain't you? By the way, did you bring the cocoa? I'm freezing up here!'
Magrat nodded desperately, and with her spare hand passed up a straw bag.
'Right,' said Granny. 'Well done. See you at Lancre Bridge.'
She uncurled her fingers.
Magrat whirled away in the buffeting wind, clinging tightly to a broomstick which now, she feared, had about as much buoyancy as a bit of firewood. It certainly wasn't capable of sustaining a full-grown woman against the frightened woman gliding inexorably towards the inhospitable ground to a clearheaded, optimistic and positive thinking woman who had really got it together, was taking full responsibility for her own life and in general knew where she was coming from although, unfortunately, where she was heading had not changed in any way. But she felt a lot better about it.beckoning fingers of gravity.As she plunged down towards the forest roof in a long shallow dive she reflected that there was possibly something complimentary in the way Granny Weatherwax resolutely refused to consider other people's problems. It implied that, in her considerable opinion, they were quite capable of sorting them out by themselves.Some kind of Change spell was probably in order.Magrat concentrated.Well, that seemed to work.Nothing in the sight of mortal man had in fact changed. What Magrat had achieved was a mere adjustment of the mental processes, from a bewildered and slightly
Monday, March 16, 2009
William Bouguereau Charity
William Bouguereau Charity
Thomas Kinkade Pinocchio Wishes Upon a StarCao Yong CatalinaUnknown Artist Lazlo Emmerich KenyaDiego Rivera Night of the Rich
that's witches' magic, is it?' said the guard. 'Pretty poor stuff. Maybe it frightens these country idiots, woman, but it doesn't frighten me.'
'I imagine it takes a lot to frighten a big strong lad like you,' said Granny, reaching up to her hat.
'And don't you try to put the wind up me, neither.' The guard stared straight ahead, and rocked gently on the balb of his feet. 'Old ladies like you, twisting people around. It shouldn't be stood for, like they say.'
'Just as you like,' said Granny, pushing the spear aside.
'Listen, Iof this. Torturing people hadn't been on his mental agenda. Hurting old ladies in cold blood wasn't his cup of tea, and actually hurting witches in blood of any temperature whatsoever failed to be an entire twelve-course banquet. Words, he'd said. All this probably came under the heading of sticks and stones.
'I don't like doing this,' he murmured under his breath. said—' the guard began, and grabbed Granny's shoulder. Her hand moved so quickly it hardly seemed to move at all, but suddenly he was clutching at his arm and moaning.Granny replaced the hatpin in her hat and ran for it. 'We will begin,' said the duchess, leering, 'with the Showing of the Implements.''Seen 'em,', said Nanny. 'Leastways, all the ones beginning with P, S, I, T and W.''Then let us see how long you can keep that light conversational tone. Light the brazier, Felmet,' snapped the duchess.'Light the brazier, Fool,' said the duke.The Fool moved slowly. He hadn't expected any
Thomas Kinkade Pinocchio Wishes Upon a StarCao Yong CatalinaUnknown Artist Lazlo Emmerich KenyaDiego Rivera Night of the Rich
that's witches' magic, is it?' said the guard. 'Pretty poor stuff. Maybe it frightens these country idiots, woman, but it doesn't frighten me.'
'I imagine it takes a lot to frighten a big strong lad like you,' said Granny, reaching up to her hat.
'And don't you try to put the wind up me, neither.' The guard stared straight ahead, and rocked gently on the balb of his feet. 'Old ladies like you, twisting people around. It shouldn't be stood for, like they say.'
'Just as you like,' said Granny, pushing the spear aside.
'Listen, Iof this. Torturing people hadn't been on his mental agenda. Hurting old ladies in cold blood wasn't his cup of tea, and actually hurting witches in blood of any temperature whatsoever failed to be an entire twelve-course banquet. Words, he'd said. All this probably came under the heading of sticks and stones.
'I don't like doing this,' he murmured under his breath. said—' the guard began, and grabbed Granny's shoulder. Her hand moved so quickly it hardly seemed to move at all, but suddenly he was clutching at his arm and moaning.Granny replaced the hatpin in her hat and ran for it. 'We will begin,' said the duchess, leering, 'with the Showing of the Implements.''Seen 'em,', said Nanny. 'Leastways, all the ones beginning with P, S, I, T and W.''Then let us see how long you can keep that light conversational tone. Light the brazier, Felmet,' snapped the duchess.'Light the brazier, Fool,' said the duke.The Fool moved slowly. He hadn't expected any
Sunday, March 15, 2009
Thomas Kinkade Beyond Summer Gate
Thomas Kinkade Beyond Summer GateThomas Kinkade Autumn SnowEdward Hopper The Lighthouse at Two LightsEdward Hopper Tables for LadiesEdward Hopper Sunlight in a Cafeteria
The man raised his sword. Lightning speared down again and split a stone a few yards away, filling the air with smoke and the stink of burnt silicon.
'Missed,' he said smugly, and Granny saw his muscles tense as he prepared to bring the sword down.
A look of extreme puzzlement crossed his face. He tilted his head sideways and opened his mouth, as if trying to come to terms with a new idea. His sword dropped out of his hand and landed point downwards in the peat. Then he gave a sigh and folded up, very gently, collapsing in a heap at Granny's feet.
She gave fact. Run off, man. Run off to sea where there are no tracks. You will have a long and successful life, I promise.' She looked thoughtful for a moment, and added, 'At least, longer than it's likely to be if you hang around here.'
He pulled himself upward, gave her a look compounded of gratitude and awe, and ran off into him a gentle prod with her toe. 'Perhaps you weren't aware of what I was aiming at,' she whispered. 'Mother of the night, indeed!'The soldier who had tried to restrain the man stared in horror at the bloody dagger in his hand, and backed away.'I-I-I couldn't let. He shouldn't of. It's – it's not right to,' he stuttered.'Are you from around these parts, young man?' said Granny.He dropped to his knees. 'Mad Wolf, ma'am,' he said. He stared back at the fallen captain. 'They'll kill me now!' he wailed.'But you did what you thought was right,' said Granny.'I didn't become a soldier for this. Not to go round killing people.''Exactly right. If I was you, I'd become a sailor,' said Granny thoughtfully. 'Yes, a nautical career. I should start as soon as possible. Now, in
The man raised his sword. Lightning speared down again and split a stone a few yards away, filling the air with smoke and the stink of burnt silicon.
'Missed,' he said smugly, and Granny saw his muscles tense as he prepared to bring the sword down.
A look of extreme puzzlement crossed his face. He tilted his head sideways and opened his mouth, as if trying to come to terms with a new idea. His sword dropped out of his hand and landed point downwards in the peat. Then he gave a sigh and folded up, very gently, collapsing in a heap at Granny's feet.
She gave fact. Run off, man. Run off to sea where there are no tracks. You will have a long and successful life, I promise.' She looked thoughtful for a moment, and added, 'At least, longer than it's likely to be if you hang around here.'
He pulled himself upward, gave her a look compounded of gratitude and awe, and ran off into him a gentle prod with her toe. 'Perhaps you weren't aware of what I was aiming at,' she whispered. 'Mother of the night, indeed!'The soldier who had tried to restrain the man stared in horror at the bloody dagger in his hand, and backed away.'I-I-I couldn't let. He shouldn't of. It's – it's not right to,' he stuttered.'Are you from around these parts, young man?' said Granny.He dropped to his knees. 'Mad Wolf, ma'am,' he said. He stared back at the fallen captain. 'They'll kill me now!' he wailed.'But you did what you thought was right,' said Granny.'I didn't become a soldier for this. Not to go round killing people.''Exactly right. If I was you, I'd become a sailor,' said Granny thoughtfully. 'Yes, a nautical career. I should start as soon as possible. Now, in
Thursday, March 12, 2009
Jean-Honore Fragonard the lock
Jean-Honore Fragonard the lockJean-Honore Fragonard le jourJean-Honore Fragonard l'aurore
'Did I?' Mort looked around. The pillar looked sound enough. He poked an arm towards it, and slightly bruised his elbow.
'I could have sworn you did,' said Cutwell. 'Wizards notice these things, you know.' He reached into the pocket of his 'You saw it? How far away is it? How fast is it moving?'
'Of course I saw it. I rode through it twice. It was like —'
'But you're not a wizard, so why —'
'What are you doing here, anyway —'robe.Then have you noticed the mist dome around the country?' said Mort.Cutwell squeaked. The jar in his hand dropped and smashed on the tiles; there was the smell of slightly rancid salad dressing.'Already?''I don't know about already,' said Mort, 'but there's this sort of crackling wall sliding over the land and no-one else seems to worry about it and—''How fast was it moving?''— it changes things!'
'Did I?' Mort looked around. The pillar looked sound enough. He poked an arm towards it, and slightly bruised his elbow.
'I could have sworn you did,' said Cutwell. 'Wizards notice these things, you know.' He reached into the pocket of his 'You saw it? How far away is it? How fast is it moving?'
'Of course I saw it. I rode through it twice. It was like —'
'But you're not a wizard, so why —'
'What are you doing here, anyway —'robe.Then have you noticed the mist dome around the country?' said Mort.Cutwell squeaked. The jar in his hand dropped and smashed on the tiles; there was the smell of slightly rancid salad dressing.'Already?''I don't know about already,' said Mort, 'but there's this sort of crackling wall sliding over the land and no-one else seems to worry about it and—''How fast was it moving?''— it changes things!'
Wednesday, March 11, 2009
Juan Gris Violin and Glass
Juan Gris Violin and GlassJuan Gris Violin and CheckerboardJuan Gris Man in the Cafe
is quite straightforward.
Clearly, nothing that the Creator makes could ever be destroyed, which means that the echoes of those first syllables must still be around somewhere, bouncing and rebounding off all the matter in the cosmos but still audible to a Listening.
There were certain problems caused by the fact that they didn't hear only the subtle echoes of the first words, but every other sound made on the Disc. In order to recognise the sound of the Words, they had to learn to recognise all the other noises. This called for a certain talent, and a novice was only accepted for training if he could distinguish by sound alone, at a distance of a thousand yards, which side a dropped coin landed. He wasn't actually accepted into the order until he could tell what colour really good listener.Eons ago the Listeners had found that ice and chance had carved this one valley into the perfect acoustic opposite of an echo valley, and had built their multi-chambered temple in the exact position that the one comfy chair always hi-fi fanatic. Complex baffles caught and amplified the sound that was funnelled up the chilly valley, steering it ever inwards to the central chamber where, at any hour of the day or night, three monks always sat.
is quite straightforward.
Clearly, nothing that the Creator makes could ever be destroyed, which means that the echoes of those first syllables must still be around somewhere, bouncing and rebounding off all the matter in the cosmos but still audible to a Listening.
There were certain problems caused by the fact that they didn't hear only the subtle echoes of the first words, but every other sound made on the Disc. In order to recognise the sound of the Words, they had to learn to recognise all the other noises. This called for a certain talent, and a novice was only accepted for training if he could distinguish by sound alone, at a distance of a thousand yards, which side a dropped coin landed. He wasn't actually accepted into the order until he could tell what colour really good listener.Eons ago the Listeners had found that ice and chance had carved this one valley into the perfect acoustic opposite of an echo valley, and had built their multi-chambered temple in the exact position that the one comfy chair always hi-fi fanatic. Complex baffles caught and amplified the sound that was funnelled up the chilly valley, steering it ever inwards to the central chamber where, at any hour of the day or night, three monks always sat.
Joseph Mallord William Turner Fishermen at Sea
Joseph Mallord William Turner Fishermen at SeaJohn Singer Sargent El JaleoFrancois Boucher Leda and the Swan
'It'd be for his own good, you'll see. Make a man of him.'
'Ah. Well. There's certainly plenty of raw material,' sighed Lezek.
Mort was getting interested in the rock. It had curly shells in it, relics of the early days of the world when the Creator had made creatures out of stone, no-one knew why.
Mort was . Mort threw the rock at a pigeon, which was almost too full to lurch out of the way, and wandered back across the field.
And that was why Mort and his father walked down through the mountains into Sheepridge on Hogswatch Eve, with Mort's rather sparse possessions in a sack interested in lots of things. Why people's teeth fitted together so neatly, for example. He'd given that one a lot of thought. Then there was the puzzle of why the sun came out during the day, instead of at night when the light would come in useful. He knew the standard explanation, which somehow didn't seem satisfying.In short, Mort was one of those people who are more dangerous than a bag full of rattlesnakes. He was determined to discover the underlying logic behind the universe.Which was going to be hard, because there wasn't one. The Creator had a lot of remarkably good ideas when he put the world together, but making it understandable hadn't been one of them.Tragic heroes always moan when the gods take an interest in them, but it's the people the gods ignore who get the really tough deals.His father was yelling at him, as usual
'It'd be for his own good, you'll see. Make a man of him.'
'Ah. Well. There's certainly plenty of raw material,' sighed Lezek.
Mort was getting interested in the rock. It had curly shells in it, relics of the early days of the world when the Creator had made creatures out of stone, no-one knew why.
Mort was . Mort threw the rock at a pigeon, which was almost too full to lurch out of the way, and wandered back across the field.
And that was why Mort and his father walked down through the mountains into Sheepridge on Hogswatch Eve, with Mort's rather sparse possessions in a sack interested in lots of things. Why people's teeth fitted together so neatly, for example. He'd given that one a lot of thought. Then there was the puzzle of why the sun came out during the day, instead of at night when the light would come in useful. He knew the standard explanation, which somehow didn't seem satisfying.In short, Mort was one of those people who are more dangerous than a bag full of rattlesnakes. He was determined to discover the underlying logic behind the universe.Which was going to be hard, because there wasn't one. The Creator had a lot of remarkably good ideas when he put the world together, but making it understandable hadn't been one of them.Tragic heroes always moan when the gods take an interest in them, but it's the people the gods ignore who get the really tough deals.His father was yelling at him, as usual
Monday, March 9, 2009
Joseph Mallord William Turner The Grand Canal Venice
Joseph Mallord William Turner The Grand Canal VeniceJoseph Mallord William Turner PortsmouthJohn Singer Sargent Lady Agnew
cheerful rabbits and happy kittens on the cover.
The library certainly wasn't silent. There was the occasional zip and sizzle of a magical discharge, and an octarine spark would flash from shelf to shelf. Chains clinked, faintly. And, of course, there was the faint rustle of thousands of pages in their leather-bound prisons.
Esk made shut, even though the words seemed to be desperately pushing back. There was a drawing of a creature on the front; it looked suspiciously like one of the things from the cold desert. It certainly didn't look like a happy kitten.
"Hallo! Esk, isn't it? H-how d-did you get h-here?"
It was Simon, standing there with a book under each arm. Esk blushed.
"Granny won't tell me," she said. "I think it's something to do with men and women."sure no one was paying her any attention and pulled at the nearest volume. It sprang open in her hands, and she saw gloomily that there were the same unpleasant types of diagram that she had noticed entirely unfamiliar, and she was glad about that - it would be horrible to know what all those letters, which seemed to be made up of ugly creatures doing complicated things to each other, actually meant. She forced the cover
Simon looked at her blankly. Then he grinned. Esk thought about the question a second time.
"I work here. I sweep up." She waved the staff in explanation.
cheerful rabbits and happy kittens on the cover.
The library certainly wasn't silent. There was the occasional zip and sizzle of a magical discharge, and an octarine spark would flash from shelf to shelf. Chains clinked, faintly. And, of course, there was the faint rustle of thousands of pages in their leather-bound prisons.
Esk made shut, even though the words seemed to be desperately pushing back. There was a drawing of a creature on the front; it looked suspiciously like one of the things from the cold desert. It certainly didn't look like a happy kitten.
"Hallo! Esk, isn't it? H-how d-did you get h-here?"
It was Simon, standing there with a book under each arm. Esk blushed.
"Granny won't tell me," she said. "I think it's something to do with men and women."sure no one was paying her any attention and pulled at the nearest volume. It sprang open in her hands, and she saw gloomily that there were the same unpleasant types of diagram that she had noticed entirely unfamiliar, and she was glad about that - it would be horrible to know what all those letters, which seemed to be made up of ugly creatures doing complicated things to each other, actually meant. She forced the cover
Simon looked at her blankly. Then he grinned. Esk thought about the question a second time.
"I work here. I sweep up." She waved the staff in explanation.
Claude Monet Vetheuil In Summer
Claude Monet Vetheuil In SummerClaude Monet The LuncheonClaude Monet Sunflowers
can be helpful," said Esk, quietly.
Gander threw down the chalk and scratched his chin irritably.
"How old are you?" he said.
"Nine."
"Well, Miss nine-years-old, I've got two hundred animals and a hundred people that want to go to Ankh, and half of them hate the other half, and I've not got enough people who can fight, and they say the roads are pretty bad First of all, she decided, she should never have allowed Hilta to talk her into borrowing her broomstick. It was elderly, erratic, would fly only at night and even then couldn't and the bandits are getting really cheeky up in the Paps and the trolls are demanding a bigger bridge toll this year and there's weevils in the supplies and I keep getting these headaches and where, in all this, do I need you?" "Oh," said Esk. She looked around the crowded square. "Which one of these roads goes to Ankh, then?" "The one over there, with the gate." "Thank you," she said gravely. "Goodbye. I hope you don't have any more trouble and your head gets better." "Right," said Gander uncertainly. He drummed his fingers on the tabletop as he watched Esk walk away in the direction of the Ankh road. A long, winding road. A road haunted by thieves and gnolls. A road that wheezed through high mountain passes and crawled, panting, over deserts. "Oh bugger," he said, under his breath. "Hey! You!" Granny Weatherwax was in trouble.
can be helpful," said Esk, quietly.
Gander threw down the chalk and scratched his chin irritably.
"How old are you?" he said.
"Nine."
"Well, Miss nine-years-old, I've got two hundred animals and a hundred people that want to go to Ankh, and half of them hate the other half, and I've not got enough people who can fight, and they say the roads are pretty bad First of all, she decided, she should never have allowed Hilta to talk her into borrowing her broomstick. It was elderly, erratic, would fly only at night and even then couldn't and the bandits are getting really cheeky up in the Paps and the trolls are demanding a bigger bridge toll this year and there's weevils in the supplies and I keep getting these headaches and where, in all this, do I need you?" "Oh," said Esk. She looked around the crowded square. "Which one of these roads goes to Ankh, then?" "The one over there, with the gate." "Thank you," she said gravely. "Goodbye. I hope you don't have any more trouble and your head gets better." "Right," said Gander uncertainly. He drummed his fingers on the tabletop as he watched Esk walk away in the direction of the Ankh road. A long, winding road. A road haunted by thieves and gnolls. A road that wheezed through high mountain passes and crawled, panting, over deserts. "Oh bugger," he said, under his breath. "Hey! You!" Granny Weatherwax was in trouble.
Friday, March 6, 2009
Titian Sacred and Profane Love
Titian Sacred and Profane LoveFrancisco de Goya The ParasolBartolome Esteban Murillo Madonna and Child
down and hold my hand. Do you see the eagle up there?"
Esk squinted into the dark, hot sky.
There were . . . two doll figures on the grass below as she pivoted on the wind ....
She could , and "How do I control it?"
"You don't. Not yet. Anyway, controlling a truly wild creature isn't easily learned. You have to - sort of suggest to it that it might feel inclined to do things. With a tame animal, of course, it's all different. But you can't make any creature do anything that is totally against its nature. Now try and find feel the whip and wire of the air through her feathers. Because the eagle was not hunting, but simply enjoying the feel of the sun on its wings, the land below was a mere unimportant shape. But the air, the air was a complex, changing three-dimensional thing, an interlocked pattern of spirals and curves that stretched away into the distance, a switchback of currents built around thermal pillars. She . . . . . . felt a gentle pressure restraining her. "The next thing to remember, " said Granny's voice, very close, "is not to upset the owner. If you let it know you're there it'll either fight you or panic, and you won't stand a chance either way. It'sof being an eagle, and you haven't." Esk said nothing. "You're not frightened, are you?" said Granny. "It can take you that way the first time, and -" "I'm not frightened," said Esk
down and hold my hand. Do you see the eagle up there?"
Esk squinted into the dark, hot sky.
There were . . . two doll figures on the grass below as she pivoted on the wind ....
She could , and "How do I control it?"
"You don't. Not yet. Anyway, controlling a truly wild creature isn't easily learned. You have to - sort of suggest to it that it might feel inclined to do things. With a tame animal, of course, it's all different. But you can't make any creature do anything that is totally against its nature. Now try and find feel the whip and wire of the air through her feathers. Because the eagle was not hunting, but simply enjoying the feel of the sun on its wings, the land below was a mere unimportant shape. But the air, the air was a complex, changing three-dimensional thing, an interlocked pattern of spirals and curves that stretched away into the distance, a switchback of currents built around thermal pillars. She . . . . . . felt a gentle pressure restraining her. "The next thing to remember, " said Granny's voice, very close, "is not to upset the owner. If you let it know you're there it'll either fight you or panic, and you won't stand a chance either way. It'sof being an eagle, and you haven't." Esk said nothing. "You're not frightened, are you?" said Granny. "It can take you that way the first time, and -" "I'm not frightened," said Esk
Thursday, March 5, 2009
Abraham Mignon Still Life
Abraham Mignon Still LifeWilliam Bouguereau Jeune Bergere DeboutJohn Constable Malvern HallJohn William Waterhouse The Sorceress
the back of his mind the Spell was kicking up a ruckus, but he ignored it. Maybe it was true that magic was getting weaker as the star got nearer, or perhaps he'd had the Spell in his head for so long he had built up some kind of psychic immunity, but he found he could resist it.
'We're in the docks,' he declared. 'Just smell that sea air!'
'Oh,' said Bethan, leaning against the wall, 'yes.'
'That's ozone, that is,' said Rincewind. That's air with character, is that.' He breathed deeply.
Twoflower turned to the shopkeeper.
'Well, I hope you find your sorcerer,' he said. 'Sorry we didn't buy anything, but all my money's in my Luggage, you see.'
The and pulled out the contents.
Is that all?' said Rincewind. 'A little house with shells on?'
'It's very useful,' said Twoflower defensively. 'You can keep cigarettes in it.'
'And they're what you really need, are they?' said Rincewind.
'I'd plump for a bottle of really strong sun-tan oil,' said Bethan.shopkeeper pushed something into his hand.'A little gift,' he said. 'You'll need it.'He darted back into his shop, the bell jangled, the sign saying Call Again Tomorrow For Spoonfetcher's Leeches, the Little Suckers banged forlornly against the door, and the shop faded into the brickwork as though it had never been. Twoflower reached out gingerly and touched the wall, not quite believing it.'What's in the bag?' said Rincewind.It was a thick brown paper bag, with string handles.'If it sprouts legs I don't want to know about it,' said Bethan.Twoflower peered inside,
'Come on,' said Rincewind, and set off down the street. The others
the back of his mind the Spell was kicking up a ruckus, but he ignored it. Maybe it was true that magic was getting weaker as the star got nearer, or perhaps he'd had the Spell in his head for so long he had built up some kind of psychic immunity, but he found he could resist it.
'We're in the docks,' he declared. 'Just smell that sea air!'
'Oh,' said Bethan, leaning against the wall, 'yes.'
'That's ozone, that is,' said Rincewind. That's air with character, is that.' He breathed deeply.
Twoflower turned to the shopkeeper.
'Well, I hope you find your sorcerer,' he said. 'Sorry we didn't buy anything, but all my money's in my Luggage, you see.'
The and pulled out the contents.
Is that all?' said Rincewind. 'A little house with shells on?'
'It's very useful,' said Twoflower defensively. 'You can keep cigarettes in it.'
'And they're what you really need, are they?' said Rincewind.
'I'd plump for a bottle of really strong sun-tan oil,' said Bethan.shopkeeper pushed something into his hand.'A little gift,' he said. 'You'll need it.'He darted back into his shop, the bell jangled, the sign saying Call Again Tomorrow For Spoonfetcher's Leeches, the Little Suckers banged forlornly against the door, and the shop faded into the brickwork as though it had never been. Twoflower reached out gingerly and touched the wall, not quite believing it.'What's in the bag?' said Rincewind.It was a thick brown paper bag, with string handles.'If it sprouts legs I don't want to know about it,' said Bethan.Twoflower peered inside,
'Come on,' said Rincewind, and set off down the street. The others
Tuesday, March 3, 2009
Camille Pissarro Still Life with Apples and Pitcher
Camille Pissarro Still Life with Apples and PitcherWinslow Homer The Houses of ParliamentWinslow Homer Children on the BeachAndrew Atroshenko What a Wonderful Life
shape crunched over the snowcrust towards Rincewind. It was the Luggage. Rincewind, who normally hated and distrusted it, suddenly felt it was the most refreshingly normal thing he had ever seen.
'I see you made it, then,' said Rincewind. The Luggage rattled its lid.
'Okay, but what 'You can shee it in daylight now,' said Cohen. 'What is it?'
He looked hard at Rincewind, who reddened.
'Why does everyone look at me?' he said. 'I don't know 107 what it is, maybe it's a comet or something.'
'Will we all be burned up?' said Bethan.
'How should I know? I've never been hit by a comet before.'did you see?' said Rincewind. 'Did you look behind?'The Luggage said nothing. For a moment they were silent, like two warriors who have fled the field of carnage and have paused for a return of breath and sanity.Then Rincewind said, 'Come on, there's a fire inside.' He reached out to pat the Luggage's lid. It snapped irritably at him, nearly back to normal again. The next day dawned bright and clear and cold. The sky became a blue dome stuck on the white sheet of the world, and the whole effect would have been as fresh and clean as a toothpaste advert if it wasn't for the pink dot on the horizon.
shape crunched over the snowcrust towards Rincewind. It was the Luggage. Rincewind, who normally hated and distrusted it, suddenly felt it was the most refreshingly normal thing he had ever seen.
'I see you made it, then,' said Rincewind. The Luggage rattled its lid.
'Okay, but what 'You can shee it in daylight now,' said Cohen. 'What is it?'
He looked hard at Rincewind, who reddened.
'Why does everyone look at me?' he said. 'I don't know 107 what it is, maybe it's a comet or something.'
'Will we all be burned up?' said Bethan.
'How should I know? I've never been hit by a comet before.'did you see?' said Rincewind. 'Did you look behind?'The Luggage said nothing. For a moment they were silent, like two warriors who have fled the field of carnage and have paused for a return of breath and sanity.Then Rincewind said, 'Come on, there's a fire inside.' He reached out to pat the Luggage's lid. It snapped irritably at him, nearly back to normal again. The next day dawned bright and clear and cold. The sky became a blue dome stuck on the white sheet of the world, and the whole effect would have been as fresh and clean as a toothpaste advert if it wasn't for the pink dot on the horizon.
Monday, March 2, 2009
Unknown Artist Tango Rouge by Hamish Blakely
Unknown Artist Tango Rouge by Hamish BlakelyUnknown Artist Aeneas Carrying Anchises by Carl van LooPablo Picasso BULLFIGHT DEATH OF THE TOREADOR La corridaAlbert Bierstadt Quiet Pond
RIGHT, YOU'VE MADE YOUR POINT, said Death. WHAT PRECISELY WAS IT YOU WISHED TO KNOW? QUITE A LOT OF THINGS HAPPENED THIS MORNING, PEOPLE WERE BORN, PEOPLE DIED, ALL THE TREES GREW A BIT TALLER, RIPPLES MADE INTERESTING PATTERNS ON THE SEA—
'I mean about Rincewind? The spell would just float back eventually.
Any idea why?' he said without thinking and then, remembering himself in time, added hastily, 'By Yrriph and Kcharla I do abjure thee and—'
I WISH YOU WOULDN'T KEEP DOING THAT, said Death, ALL THAT I KNOW IS THAT ALL THE SPELLS HAVE TO BE SAID TOGETHER NEXT HOGS-WATCHNIGHT OR THE DISC WILL BE DESTROYED.
'Speak up there!' demanded Greyhald Spold.the Octavo,' said Galder coldly.THAT? OH, THAT WAS JUST A READJUSTMENT OF REALITY. I UNDERSTAND THE OCTAVO WAS ANXIOUS NOT TO LOSE THE EIGHTH SPELL. IT WAS DROPPING OFF THE DISC, APPARENTLY.'Hold on, hold on,' said Galder. He scratched his chin. 'Are we talking about the one inside the head of Rincewind? Tall thin man, bit scraggy? The one—'—THAT HE HAS BEEN CARRYING AROUND ALL THESE YEARS, YES.Galder frowned. It seemed a lot of trouble to go to. Everyone knew that when a wizard died all the spells in h:s head would go free, so why bother to save
RIGHT, YOU'VE MADE YOUR POINT, said Death. WHAT PRECISELY WAS IT YOU WISHED TO KNOW? QUITE A LOT OF THINGS HAPPENED THIS MORNING, PEOPLE WERE BORN, PEOPLE DIED, ALL THE TREES GREW A BIT TALLER, RIPPLES MADE INTERESTING PATTERNS ON THE SEA—
'I mean about Rincewind? The spell would just float back eventually.
Any idea why?' he said without thinking and then, remembering himself in time, added hastily, 'By Yrriph and Kcharla I do abjure thee and—'
I WISH YOU WOULDN'T KEEP DOING THAT, said Death, ALL THAT I KNOW IS THAT ALL THE SPELLS HAVE TO BE SAID TOGETHER NEXT HOGS-WATCHNIGHT OR THE DISC WILL BE DESTROYED.
'Speak up there!' demanded Greyhald Spold.the Octavo,' said Galder coldly.THAT? OH, THAT WAS JUST A READJUSTMENT OF REALITY. I UNDERSTAND THE OCTAVO WAS ANXIOUS NOT TO LOSE THE EIGHTH SPELL. IT WAS DROPPING OFF THE DISC, APPARENTLY.'Hold on, hold on,' said Galder. He scratched his chin. 'Are we talking about the one inside the head of Rincewind? Tall thin man, bit scraggy? The one—'—THAT HE HAS BEEN CARRYING AROUND ALL THESE YEARS, YES.Galder frowned. It seemed a lot of trouble to go to. Everyone knew that when a wizard died all the spells in h:s head would go free, so why bother to save
Piet Mondrian Tableau I
Piet Mondrian Tableau IPiet Mondrian Mill in SunlightPiet Mondrian Avond Evening Red TreeMichael Austin The Black Drape
down." he finished "and I never jump. Courage is hard to come by, here on the Edge."
Rincewind began to crawl determinedly towards the shack. He gave a little scream as the troll picked him up, not unkindly, thoughtfully. "Some sort of a ship that one could sail over the Edge and sail to far-off worlds, too. I wonder..."
"Don't even think about it!" moaned Rincewind.
"Stop talking like that, do you hear?"
"They all talk like that in Krull," said Tethisand set him on his feet."Amazing," said Twoflower, and leaned further out over the Edge. "There are lots of other worlds out there?""Quite a number, I imagine," said the troll."I suppose one could contrive some sort of, I don't know, some sort of a thing that could preserve one against the cold," said the little man
down." he finished "and I never jump. Courage is hard to come by, here on the Edge."
Rincewind began to crawl determinedly towards the shack. He gave a little scream as the troll picked him up, not unkindly, thoughtfully. "Some sort of a ship that one could sail over the Edge and sail to far-off worlds, too. I wonder..."
"Don't even think about it!" moaned Rincewind.
"Stop talking like that, do you hear?"
"They all talk like that in Krull," said Tethisand set him on his feet."Amazing," said Twoflower, and leaned further out over the Edge. "There are lots of other worlds out there?""Quite a number, I imagine," said the troll."I suppose one could contrive some sort of, I don't know, some sort of a thing that could preserve one against the cold," said the little man
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