Jack Vettriano Ritual of Courtship

Jack Vettriano Ritual of CourtshipJack Vettriano Right XJack Vettriano Right Time, Right Place
a couple of associates whose apparent knowledge of music extended only to the amount of percussion available on the human skull. His determined expression suggested that he was not there for his health, although the fact that the Guild officers had a in order to become accompanied.
The odd thing was that, although people were jammed along the benches, she had space all around her. She was quite attractive in a skinny way, Ridcully thought. What was the tomboy word? Gammon, or something. She was wearing a black lace dress of the sort worn by healthy young women who want to look consumptive, and had a raven sitting on her shoulder.
She turned her head, saw Ridcully looking at her, and vanished.
More or less.
He was a wizard, after all. He felt his eyes watering as she flickered in and out of vision.mean look about them rather hinted he was there for other people's health, mostly in order to take it away.Ridcully brightened up. The evening might just possibly be more interesting than he had expected.There was another table near the stage. He nearly didn't notice it, and then his gaze swivelled back to it of its own accord.There was a young woman sitting there, all by herself. Of course, it wasn't unusual to see young women in the Drum. Even unaccompanied young women. They were generally there

Bill Brauer The Gold Dress

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with all the rights due to citizens of both states,
particularly the right sands. From it came what could very accurately be called the strains of an accordion, since someone seemed to want to play a tune but kept on running into difficulties after a few bars, and starting again.
Someone knocked on the door.
After a while there was a scraping on the other side and a small hatch opened.
'Yes, offendi?'
IS THIS THE KLATCHIAN FOREIGN LEGION?to pay just as much tax as could be squeezed out of them and be drafted in to fight wars against people they'd never heard of. So as a result of the dotted line Klatch was now incipiently at war with Hersheba and the D'regs, Hersheba was at war with the D'regs and Klatch, and the D'regs were at war with everyone, including one another, and having considerable fun because the D'reg word for 'stranger' was the same as for 'target'.The fort was one of the legacies of the dotted line.Now it was a dark rectangle on the hot silver

Salvador Dali The Crucifixion

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right, all right,' he said. 'I can see how this is going. And supposing I say no?'
There was another of those long, long pauses, wherein may be seen the possibilities of several different futures.
'Do you know, sir, I never even considered that you'd say no?'
'You didn't?'
'No, sir.''Why not?'
'Because I could command the Watch. Because . . . people should do things because an officer tells them. They shouldn't do it just because Corporal Carrot says so. Just because Corporal Carrot is . . . good at being obeyed.' Carrot's face was carefully blank.
An interesting point.''I'm intrigued. Why not?''It's all for the good of the city, sir. Do you know where the word "policeman" comes from? It means "man of the city", sir. From the old word polis.''Yes. I do know.'The Patrician looked at Carrot. He seemed to be shuffling futures in his head. Then:'Yes. I accede to all the requests, except the one involving Corporal Nobbs. And you, I think, should be promoted to Captain.''Ye-es. I agree, sir. That would be a good thing for Ankh-Morpork. But I will not command the Watch, if that's what you mean.'

Cao Yong CAFE BELLA

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little friend.'
'In the Assassins' Guild? Just us?'
'Um. You've got a point.'
Carrot looked so crestfallen that Angua gave in.
'What time is it?' it to me.'
'How?'
'Er . . . I . . . well, I could get out of uniform, couldn't I, and, oh, talk my way in as a kitchen maid's sister or something . . .'
Carrot looked doubtful.
'You think that'll work?'she said.Carrot very carefully took Captain Vimes' presentation watch out of its cloth case.'It's—'—abing, abing, abong, bong . . . bing . . . bing . . .They waited patiently until it had finished.'A quarter to seven,' said Carrot. Absolutely accurate, too. I put it right by the big sundial in the University.'Angua glanced at the sky.'OK,' she said. 'I can find out, I think. Leave

Eduard Manet Bouquet Of Violets

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sketches of strange mechanical devices alongside it, and a couple of the little six-pipe things. The whole drawing looked like a up all over the place, or it'd be destroyed. It wouldn't end up in the Assassins' museum. What got put in museums?
Things that hadn't worked, or had got lost, or ought to be remembered . . . so where's the sense in putting our firework on show?
There had been a lot of locks on the door. So . . . not a museum you just wandered into, then. Maybe you had to be a high-up Assassin, and one day one of the Guild leaders'd doodle. Someone, possibly this Leonard, had been reading a book about fireworks and had scribbled in the margins.Fireworks.Well. . . fireworks? But fireworks weren't a weapon. Crackers went bang. Rockets went up, more or less, but all you could be sure of them hitting was the sky.Hammerhock was noted for his skill with mechanisms. That wasn't a major dwarfish attribute. People thought it was, but it wasn't. They were skilled with metal all right, and they made good swords and jewellery, but they weren't too technical when it came to things like cogwheels and springs. Hammerhock was unusual.So. . .Supposing there was a weapon. Supposing there was something about it that was different, strange, terrifying.No, that couldn't be it. It'd either end

Henri Rousseau Sleeping Gypsy

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unclasped his hands from his head and rolled over.
'What'd you do that for, captain?' said Carrot. 'I wasn't—'
'It was attacking a dragon!' shouted Vimes. 'One that wouldn't back down!'
He pulled himself to his knees and tapped Carrot's breast-plate.
'You polish that up real bright!' he said. 'You can see yourself in it. So can anything else!'
'Oh, yes, of course horror.
'Gosh,' he said.

Sergeant Colon surveyed the butts. Then he removed his helmet and wiped his forehead.
'I think perhaps Lance-Constable Angua shouldn't have another go with the longbow until we've worked out how to stop her . . . her getting in the way.'there's that,' said Lady Sybil. 'Everyone knows you should keep dragons away from mirrors—''Mirrors,' said Carrot. 'Hey, there were bits of—''Yes. He showed Chubby a mirror,' said Vimes.'The poor little thing must have been trying to make himself bigger than himself,' said Carrot.'We're dealing here,' said Vimes, 'with a twisted mind.''Oh, no! You think so?''Yes.''But . . . no . . . you can't be right. Because Nobby was with us all the time.''Not Nobby,' said Vimes testily. 'Whatever he might do to a dragon, I doubt if he'd make it explode. There's stranger people in this world than Corporal Nobbs, my lad.'Carrot's expression slid into a rictus of intrigued

Salvador Dali Argus

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'You, sir . . . Lord Monflathers! The first Duke led six hundred men to a glorious and epic de-feat at the Battle of Quirm! Does that mean n-othing? And you, Lord Venturii, and you, Sir George . . . sitting in Ankh in your old houses with your old namesand all that,' said Viscount Skater. 'Ladies in pointy hats. Chappies in armour bashin' one another and whatnot. But, y'know, we have to move with the times—'
'It was a golden age,' said Edward.
My god, thought Lord Rust. He actually does believe it.
'You see, dear boy,' said Lady Selachii, 'a few chance likenesses and a piece of jewellery – that doesn't really and your old money, while Guilds – Guilds] Ragtags of tradesmen and merchants! – Guilds, I say, have a voice in the r-unning of the city!'He reached a bookshelf in two strides and threw a huge leather-bound book on the table, where it upset Lord Rust's glass.'Twurp's P-eerage,' he shouted. 'We all have pages in there! We own it. But this man has you mesmerized! I assure you he is flesh and blood, a mere mortal! No-one dares remove him because they th-ink it will make things a little worse for themselves! Ye g-ods!'His audience looked glum. It was all true, of course. . . if you put it that way. And it didn't sound any better coming from a wild-eyed, pompous young man.'Yes, yes, the good old days. Towerin' spires and pennants and chivalry