Sunday, August 31, 2008

Fabian Perez monica painting

Fabian Perez monica paintingJohannes Vermeer Girl with a Pearl Earring paintingJohannes Vermeer girl with the pearl earring painting
prove my humanity; more so in my own estimation than to embrace one whom -- despite our possible consanguinity and the obligations of Grand-Tutorhood -- I had almost said,I loved.
"What Mr. Greene mustthink!" Anastasia moaned. As Hedwig Sear bent to bite her I remarked with an ardent pang the welt of my own teeth on her belly. Ah, it was true. Once hatched, the thought would not take wing, but stayed a-fledge there in my fancy: I loved Anastasia! And not as my relative or Tutee, but as a human lady girl. And I suddenly dreaded not only that we might be kin but that I might for aught I knew be. . . not lovable. Horrid possibility! That she admired me was evident; alas, her admiration like her sweet legs embraced many another, and had little to do with love. And Founder pass me, in the yearbooks of campus history what Grand Tutor ever took a mistress?
"George?" It was a rebuke, timid but. Anastasia's eyes were on my hands, which I had laid upon Hedwig's haunches. Whether by my problematical insights (How

Friday, August 29, 2008

Gustave Courbet The Origin of the World painting

Gustave Courbet The Origin of the World paintingGustave Courbet Plage de Normandie paintingThomas Kinkade HOMETOWN MORNING painting
He admitted then that his unwonted vociferousness was due to his certainty that I'd challenge the ground of his recent Certification by "the Grand Tutor," which now he showed me.Passèd are the riot-quellers, it read:if order is better than disorder, Lucius Rexford is a Candidate for Graduation.
"My assumption is that orderis better than disorder," he said. "I don't question that for a second, and frankly I don't care to hear it questioned."
I assured him that I had no quarrel with the proposition; on the contrary, I was ready to affirm (as I would not have been on the previous day) that order and disorder were like Passage and Failure, not to be confused either in fact or in value. I kept to myself certain reservations about his comment on theTaliped play (had he forgotten that Cadmus was rotting and dying from the poison of the Dean's secret flunkage? And that Gynander, the Cadmusian equivalent of a Grand Tutor, hadnot been ignorant of the awful answer?) and commended sincerely both his distinction between theory and practice in s

Thursday, August 28, 2008

Thomas Kinkade Mountain Memories painting

Thomas Kinkade Mountain Memories paintingThomas Kinkade Footprints in the sand paintingThomas Kinkade Christmas Cottage painting
I'm with you!" Two muttered: "Space/Time thing!"
"And I'm supposed to Overcome My Infirmity and See Through My Ladyship, whatever allthat means. . ."
"The Transcendence bit!" Three whispered.
But they could not decide whether I was exhorting them to attack their Assignment (whatever it happened to be) on its own terms, or the terms of the Assignment, or the very concepts of Assignor and Assignee. And did my aphorisms signify that the "Wheel of Passage and Failure" -- their term -- was to be affirmed, denied, ignored, or transcended? Specifically, for example, should they go to class and take respectful notes, go to class and quarrel with their professors, or cut class altogether? I left them contending beard to beard so heatedly that they took no notice of my departure. For though their debate was incomprehensible to me, and I despaired of getting usable advice from them, their illustration had suggested something to me for the first time: as young Enos Enoch had enrolled in the manual-training course taught by His mother's humble husband, so would I audit some ordinary professor, the first I came to, in hopes of learning something germane to my task. I would go to class! Great numbers of students were hurrying into a large hall

Leonardo da Vinci Head of Christ painting

Leonardo da Vinci Head of Christ paintingLeonardo da Vinci da Vinci Self Portrait paintingLeonardo da Vinci Mona Lisa Painting painting
had been ready to go onstage to the Grateway when the lights went out; now I could see nothing. But a host of little clickings all about the hall reminded me thatmy pocket-torch was not empty. I pressed its switch, and a beam of light aimed past the rostrum. Someone enviously said, "Lucky!" Stoker laughed again. I climbed onstage, went directly to where the Chancellor waited with his party, and offered my hand to be shaken. Guards seized me.
"He's okay," an aide said.
"The flunk he is," said another.
"Spielman's kid, isn't it?"
They spoke virtually at once: things were balled up altogether; the newspapers mustn't get wind of it, or there'd be the Dunce to pay; first Bray, then Spielman, then the Turnstile mess, nowthis; what the flunk next?
"Tell Bray to make a statement," Rexford ordered. "No panic, everything's in order,that sort of thing. Somebody find out if my flunking brother has anything to do with this. Let's get back to the Chancellory."
"Take that guy's light," someone told someone else.

Wednesday, August 27, 2008

Bernhard Gutmann Nude with Drapery painting

Bernhard Gutmann Nude with Drapery paintingAlbert Bierstadt Valley of the Yosemite paintingAlbert Bierstadt the oregon trail painting
lure people away from all hope of Graduation; but I was surprised to observe that a considerable number seemed to take his words seriously. Many forsook the grandstand and either went off on cycles of their own or climbed into the sidecars of Stoker's guards, night. And obliged as he felt to Maurice Stoker for the hospitality and the free ride back to Great Mall, he hoped with my assistance to have the unconsummated match annulled and make Anastasia his virgin bride.when he capped his madness with a plea that I go with him to see Anastasia's mother, who he understood was herself somewhat kerflooey, on the subject of Grand Tutors. If I would support
What was one to say? I shook my head sharply, as before a dream or hallucination, thanked him for his offer to assist Max, and agreed at least to accompany him soon to see Virginia R. Hector, the story of whose connection with Max I wished to discuss with her anyhow. This pleased him enoughwhose vehicles were stationed all along the aisle. There food of some sort was provided them, and

Tuesday, August 26, 2008

Zhang Xiaogang Bloodline painting

Zhang Xiaogang Bloodline paintingZhang Xiaogang Big Family paintingZhang Xiaogang big family 1996 painting
stunt; to set the on its feet
by some great deanly deed, before we're dead.
That's what we came to tell you, Taliped.

Tellis right - -the threat's thinly veiled!
Their point's quite clear: that, deanwise, I've failed,
and should resign my post.
Look here, by Neddy!
You tell me nothing I don't know already.

" ' By Neddy!' " Sear exclaimed. "Thatis a bit far!"

TALIPED: In fact, while you've been sitting on your thumbs
(and on my steps), I'vedonethings. Look: here comes
my brother-in-law, by sheer coincidence,
this minute, whom last week I had the sense
and foresight to dispatch, as assistant dean,
with all expenses paid, to survey the scene
first-hand, and then to pay a formal call
on the Professor of Prophecy in Founder's Hall
and ask his advice, just to forestall the shout
that rascal raises when I leave him out.

Guido Reni St Joseph painting

Guido Reni St Joseph paintingGuido Reni St Jerome paintingGuido Reni Joseph and Potiphars' Wife painting
join the general good-fellowship. Dr. Sear was delighted to see Max once more, having been among his admirers and supporters in the troubled past.treacherous current -- it not uncommonly happened that he discovered in himself extraordinary resources, thitherto unsuspected, with which to rescue himself. Such a resource to studentdom in general, it seemed to him, were those whom men called Grand Tutors: adrenalin for the imperiled student body. "If you get through the Grate you'll find your way the right one."
He went on to say that once through Main Gate I should proceed to the Gatehouse, where, if things were still done as formerly, I would meet the Chancellor himself, Lucius Rexford, who always afldressed the new
"Kennard Sear. . ."Max frowned."Ja, sure, the young radiologist with the Cum Laude Project. I thought you were on Eierkopf's side."
"Gracious no!"

Monday, August 25, 2008

Frank Dicksee Romeo and Juliet painting

Frank Dicksee Romeo and Juliet paintingJohn Singleton Copley Watson and the Shark paintingJohn Singleton Copley The Tribute Money painting
You never saw New Tammany proper before?" Greene asked. I shook my head. He topped the rise a few meters before me and, braking the cycle, called over his shoulder, "Well, there she sets, friend!" There was reverence in his voice; he had removed his fur cap, and his orange hair and outstretched hand gleamed like the tree-limbs in the light, which lit me too when Croaker came up beside him. "How 'boutthat, now!"
What had I imagined awould look like? I cannot remember. Photographs I had seen, descriptions I'd read, but with only the livestock-barns and the branch library for scale, I must have conceived the central campus of New Tammany as a slightly larger version of our stalls and pastures. Certainly I was not prepared for the spectacle before and beneath us. Sparkling in the purple dusk, it stretched out endlessly, endlessly. Avenues, towers, monuments; corridors of glass and steel; lakes and parks and marble colonnades; bridges and smokestacks, blinkers and beacons! Hundreds of messages flashed in every color, from here, from there, on roofs and cornices:FIND FACTS FAST -- ENCYCLOPEDIA TAMMANICA; DON'T BE SAD -- STUDY AD.; YOUR ROTCKEEPS

Sunday, August 24, 2008

Rene Magritte The Blank Check painting

Rene Magritte The Blank Check paintingSir Lawrence Alma-Tadema In the Tepidarium paintingGeorges Seurat Sunday Afternoon on the Island of la Grande Jatte painting

the cattle-prods moved towards us. I began to perspire.
Max opened his arms. "Na, wait," he pleaded, "I make you a bargain. You told me once you watched the Bonifacists burn some Moishians in the Riot,ja ?"
"Only a few," Stoker answered modestly; the prospect of a bargain clearly amused him. "They were sure I was spying, but didn't know for which side, so the day I took a tour of their extermination campuses they only did a few."
Max's thin face glared. "But you told me you enjoyed it,ja ?"
"Enjoyedit! I never had so much fun -- except the day you and I pushed the EAT-button. What a party! This one chap in particular, we couldn't wait to try: biochemist named Schultz -- maybe you've heard of him? He'd decided the only way to keep West-Campus culture from going up in smoke was to fireproof the Moishians. So he invented some kind of asbestos bagel, I believe it was, and ate nothing else for three months before he was picked up. When the Bonifacist scientists heard about it they put him straight in the oven -- they don't miss a trick! You know, it's surprising howthirsty you got, around

Saturday, August 23, 2008

Claude Monet Boulevard des Capucines painting

Claude Monet Boulevard des Capucines paintingHorace Vernet Judith and Holofernes paintingHorace Vernet The Lion Hunt painting
striking him only by good luck and instant reflexes, which those behind seemed not to share, for they bumped one another, perhaps even intentionally, with curses, shouts, and laughs. One who had no sidecar attached fell over onto the sand, his wheels roaring and racing; another made as if to run over him -- skidded close to his head, sounded a siren, and was sprung upon a moment later by a third, in sport or anger. "Knock it off!" their leader bawled, and the man beside him -- long-nosed, thin-toothed, and dapper, the only one of their number both sootless and unwhiskered -- repeated or enlarged upon the order in some snapping other language, hectoring the squabblers with some difficulty into line.
Anastasia sighed loudly. "It's just Maurice." She stood up and brushed sand from her shift.
I was nonetheless far from easy, what with the formidable ring before us, Croaker growling and turning beneath me as if at bay, and all I had heard of Maurice Stoker crowding to mind. The men on either end of the arc sprang off their machines now, put up their goggles, and advanced towards me, carrying what I guessed were pistols: the

Friday, August 22, 2008

Frida Kahlo Self Portrait with Monkey painting

Frida Kahlo Self Portrait with Monkey paintingFrida Kahlo Diego and Frida paintingRembrandt Christ In The Storm painting
So you're not the least bit tempted. How about Hedda's niece here, though?" He crooked to him a fine black-and-white doeling named Becky's Pride Sue -- still a kid, really -- and cradled her in his lap to soothe her alarm. "Wouldn't she be sweet?"
Somewhat shocked -- Max had never spoken so with me before -- I reaffirmed my disinclination for the charms of she-goats. "Anyhow," I added somewhat sternly, "it would hurt her, wouldn't it? She's just little."
Max nodded; evidently I'd said what he wanted to hear. "So even if you wanted to, you shouldn't. Since you don't want to and don't need to, the only reason you'd have for doing it would be flunkèd. You'd have to enjoy it because you know it's wrong, which is flunkèd, or because it hurts her, which is even flunkèder. No good man could do such a thing, don't you think? Especially not a Grand Tutor."
"You talk as if I'd done it!" I protested, and patted Sue's head. "I'd never dream of such a thing!"
"Ay, well, that's good; I wouldn't

Thursday, August 21, 2008

Guido Reni Girl with a Rose painting

Guido Reni Girl with a Rose paintingGuido Reni Angel of the Annunciation paintingFrancois Boucher Venus Consoling Love painting
masters, masters against chairmen; departments banded together into the units we know today, drawing their strength from heavy engineering and department heads had been, and on a far grander scale: where before an occasional sizar had been flogged, or a co-ed ravished by thedroit de Fauteuil , now thousands and millions of the ignorant were exploited by the learned. Mere kindergarteners were sent down into the Coal-Research diggings; pregnant sophomore girls toiled in sweat-labs and rat-infested carrels. Such were the abuses that drove the Pre-Schoolist poets to cry, "The Campus is realer than the Classroom!" while their counterparts in Philosophy asserted that all the ills of studentdom were effects of formal education. But however productive of great art, the Pre-Schoolist little consolation -- and no hope -- to the masses of illiterates in their sooty dorms and squalid auditoriums. These it was who commenced to turn, in desperation, to theConfraternité Administratif des Etudiants , from beneath whose scarlet pennant a new Grand Tutor, fierce-bearded and sour of visage, cried

Wednesday, August 20, 2008

Unknown Artist Brent Lynch Cigar Bar painting

Unknown Artist Brent Lynch Cigar Bar paintingUnknown Artist Paris Eiffel Tower paintingRene Magritte The Son of Man painting
power was a delusion, but that delusions may be full of power: Lady Fancydid become my mistress after all;did mother offspring that my innocent lust got on her -- orphans now, but whose hard neglect may be the saving of them in the long run. Think it if you will a further innocence on my part; I stand convinced that she did by George love me while she loved me, and that what she loved was the very thing that ruined us in the end: I mean my epic unsophistication. And this because, contrary to appearance and common belief, she shares it herself; it is if not the essence of her spirit at least one among its chiefer qualities, and has much to do with that goldenness of hers. How else explain the peculiar radiance she maintains despite her past, a freshness as well of spirit as of complexion, which leads each new suitor to take her for a maiden girl? My ambition tohusband her, exclusively and forever, as who should aspire to make aHausfrau out of a love-goddess -- do you think she indulged it as a joke, or tickled a jaded appetite by playing at ? Very well:I choose to think the experiment pleased her as simply and ingenuously as it pleased me; we were equally distressed to see it fail, and whatever the fate of our progeny I

Raphael The Sistine Madonna painting

Raphael The Sistine Madonna paintingWilliam Bouguereau Biblis painting
manuscript are; we also know why he's not editor-in-chief any more, after his rejection of --------* on similar "moral" grounds. What I must add, at the risk of "impropriety," is that in addition to his predictable bias against anything more daring thanGay Dashleigh's Prep-School Days, he may have a private antipathy for this particular manuscript: his own daughter, I happen to know, with a bearded young poetry-student who subsequently abandoned her, pregnant, in order to devote himself to sheep-farming and the composition of long pastoral romances in free verse, mainly dealing with his great love for her. Her father never forgave her; neither has he, it seems, forgiven bearded heteroSexuality or things bucolic, and it is a mark of his indiscrimination that he makes a goat-boy suffer for a sheep-boy's sins. Much as I respect your request that these statements remain impersonal, and hesitate as a new employee to criticize my colleagues in addition to disagreeing with them, I must argue that the "personal" and "professional" elements are so bound together in this case (indeed, are they ever separable in literary

Tuesday, August 19, 2008

Mary Cassatt Young Mother Sewing painting

Mary Cassatt Young Mother Sewing paintingGuido Reni The Penitent Magdalene painting
groans. Culver eased himself painfully down beside them and touched Mannix's arm. The light of dawn, a feverish pale green, had begun to appear, outlining on Mannix's face a twisted look of suffering. His eyes were closed.
"How you doing, Al?" Culver said, reaching up to refill his canteen.
"Hotsy-totsy," he breathed, "except for my frigging foot. How you making it, boy?" His voice was listless. Culver looked down at Mannix's shoe; he had taken it off, to expose heel and sock, where, soaked up like the wick of a lantern, rose a dark streak of blood.
"Jesus," Culver said, "Al, for Christ sake now, you'd better ride in on a truck."
"Nail's out, sport. I finally stole me a pair of pliers, some radioman. Had to run like hell to catch up."
"Even so—" Culver began. But Mannix had fallen into an impervious silence. Up the road stretched a line of squatting men, Mannix's company. Most were sprawled in the weeds or the dust of the road in attitudes as stiff as death, yet some nearby sat slumped over their rifles, drinking water, smoking; there was a thin resentful muttering

Vincent van Gogh Still Life with Open Bible painting

Vincent van Gogh Still Life with Open Bible paintingVincent van Gogh Still Life with Iris painting
a SLEEP there. Eat supper, breakfast in camp, but SLEEP WITH THE SHEEP, hundred percent, NO FIRE, don’t leave NO SIGN. Roll up that tent every mornin case Forest Service snoops around. Got the dogs, your .30-.30, sleep there. Last summer had goddamn near twenty-five percent loss. I don’t want that again. YOU,” he said to Ennis, taking in the ragged hair, the big nicked hands, the jeans torn, button-gaping shirt, “Fridays twelve noon be down at the bridge with your next week list and mules. Somebody with supplies’ll be there in a pickup.” He didn’t ask if Ennis had a watch but took a cheap round ticker on a braided cord from a box on a high shelf, wound and set it, tossed it to him as if he weren’t worth the reach. “TOMORROW MORNIN we’ll truck you up the jump-off.” Pair of deuces going nowhere.
They found a bar and drank beer through the afternoon, Jack telling Ennis about a lightning storm on the mountain the year before that killed forty-two sheep, the peculiar stink of them and the way they bloated, the need for plenty of whiskey up there. He had shot an eagle, he said, turned his head to show the tail feather in his hatband. At first glance Jack seemed fair enough with his curly hair and quick laugh, but for a small man he carried some weight in the haunch and his smile disclosed buckteeth, not pronounced enough

Monday, August 18, 2008

Francisco de Goya Clothed Maja painting

Francisco de Goya Clothed Maja paintingFrancisco de Goya Blind Man's Buff paintingEdgar Degas The Rehearsal painting
because of getting thin quicker. But we will read to you." Bear began to sigh, and then found he couldn't because he was so tightly stuck; and a tear rolled down his eye, as he said: "Then would you read a Sustaining Book, such as would help and comfort a Wedged Bear in Great Tightness?" So for a week Christopher Robin read that sort of book at the North end of Pooh, and Rabbit hung And "Oh!" . . . And then, all of a sudden, he said "Pop!" just as if a cork were coming out of bottle. And Christopher Robin and Rabbit and all Rabbit's friends and relations went head-over-heels backwards . . . and on the top of them came Winnie-the-Pooh--free! So, with a nod of thanks to his friends, he went on with his walk through the forest, humming proudly to himself. But, Christopher Robin looked after him lovingly, and said to himself, "Silly old Bear!"his washing on the South end . . . and in between Bear felt himself getting slenderer and slenderer. And at the end of the week Christopher Robin said, "Now!" So he took hold of Pooh's front paws and Rabbit took hold of Christopher Robin, and all Rabbit's friends and relations took hold of Rabbit, and they all pulled together.... And for a long time Pooh only said "Ow!" . . .

William Bouguereau The Song of the Angels painting

William Bouguereau The Song of the Angels paintingLeonardo da Vinci picture of the last supper paintingLeonardo da Vinci picture of last supper painting
Well," said Pooh, "I could stay a little longer if it--if you----" and he tried very hard to look in the direction of the larder. "As a matter of fact," said Rabbit, "I was going out myself directly." "Oh well, then, I'll be going on. Good-bye." "Well, good-bye, if you're sure you won't have any more." "Is there any more?" asked Pooh quickly. Rabbit took the covers off the dishes, and said, "No, there wasn't." "I thought not," said Pooh, nodding to himself "Well, good-bye. I must be going on." So he started to c, help!" said Pooh. "I'd better go back." "Oh, bother!" said Pooh. "I shall have to go on." "I can't do either!" said Pooh. "Oh, help and bother!" Now, by this time Rabbit wanted to go for a walk too, and finding the front door full, he went out by the back door, and came round limb out of the hole. He pulled with his front paws, and pushed with his back paws, and in a little while his nose was out in the open again . . . and then his ears . . . and then his front paws . . . and then his shoulders

Gustav Klimt Portrait of Adele Bloch Bauer painting

Gustav Klimt Portrait of Adele Bloch Bauer paintingSteve Hanks Where the Grass is Greener paintingSteve Hanks Sunshine After the Rain painting
Prince Lir's face grew glum again. "That was strange. When she took no delight in the gift itself, I thought she might be interested to hear how it was won. So I told her about the view and the charge—you know—about the hissing and the naked wings and the way dragons smell, especially on a rainy morning; and the way the black blood jumped at the point of my lance. But she heard none of it, not a word, until I spoke of the rush of fire that nearly burned my poor horse's legs from under him. Then—ah, then she came back from wherever she goes when I talk to her, and she said that she must go and see my horse. So I led her to the stable where the poor brute stood crying with the pain, and she put her hand on him, on his legs. And he stopped moaning. That's a terrible sound they make when they're really hurt. When they stop, it's like a song."
The prince's dagger lay glittering among the potatoes. Outside, great gusts of rain growled round and round the castle walls, but those in the scullery could only hear it, for there was not a single window in the cold room. Nor was there any fire. It made the cat dozing in Molly's lap look like a heap of autumn leaves.
"And what happened then?" she asked. "When the Lady Amalthea touched your horse."
"Nothing happened. Nothing at all." Prince Lir suddenly seemed to become angry.

Thursday, August 14, 2008

Fabian Perez The Bar tender painting

Fabian Perez The Bar tender paintingFabian Perez portrait of lucy paintingFabian Perez michiko painting
feathers." He took Molly by the arm and pulled her down into a hard hollow by the side of the road. The unicorn lay nearby, still as moonlight.
Daggers gleaming like fishtrails on a dark sea. A voice, suddenly loud and angry. "I tell you, we've lost them. We passed them a mile back, where I heard that rustling. I'm damned if I'll run any farther."
"Be still!" a second voice whispered fiercely. "Do you want them to escape and betray us? You're afraid of the magician, but you'd do better to be afraid of the Red Bull. If Haggard finds out about our half of the curse, he'll send the Bull to trample us all into crumbs."
The first man answered in a softer tone. "It isn't that I'm afraid. A magician without a beard is no magician at all. But
we're wasting our time. They left the road and cut across country as soon as they knew we were following. We could chase along here all night and never come up with them."
Another voice, wearier than the first two. "We have chased them all night. Look over there. Dawn is coming."

Thomas Kinkade Boston Celebration painting

Thomas Kinkade Boston Celebration paintingCamille Pissarro Still Life paintingCamille Pissarro Morning Sunlight on the Snow painting
Cully smiled impatiently, and Jack Jingly dozed, but it startled the magician to see the disappointment in Molly Grue's restless eyes. Sudden anger made him laugh. He dropped seven spinning balls that had been glowing brighter and brighter as he juggled them (on a good evening, he could make them catch fire), let go all his hated skills, and closed his eyes. "Do as you will," he whispered to the magic. "Do as you will."
It sighed through him, beginning somewhere secret—in his shoulderblade, perhaps, or in the marrow of his shinbone. His heart filled and tautened like a sail, and something moved more surely in his body than he ever had. It spoke with his voice, commanding. Weak with power, he sank to his knees and waited to be Schmendrick again.
1 wonder what I did. I did something.
He opened his eyes. Most of the outlaws were chuckling and tapping their temples, glad of the chance to mock him. Captain Cully had risen, anxious to pronounce that part of the entertainment ended. Then Molly Grue cried out in a soft, shaking voice, and all turned

Tuesday, August 12, 2008

Johannes Vermeer Lady Seated at a Virginal painting

Johannes Vermeer Lady Seated at a Virginal paintingJames Jacques Joseph Tissot Too Early paintingJames Jacques Joseph Tissot Hide and Seek painting
Sister of the rainbow, believe it or not," they heard Rukh braying to the awed onlookers. "Her name means 'the Dark One,' the one whose wings blacken the sky before a storm. She and her two sweet sisters nearly starved the king Phineus to death by snatching and befouling his food before he could eat it. But the sons of the North Wind made them quit that, didn't they, my beauty?" The harpy made no sound, and Rukh grinned like a cage himself.Sister of the rainbow, believe it or not," they heard Rukh braying to the awed onlookers. "Her name means 'the Dark One,' the one whose wings blacken the sky before a storm. She and her two sweet sisters nearly starved the king Phineus to death by snatching and befouling his food before he could eat it. But the sons of the North Wind made them quit that, didn't they, my beauty?" The harpy made no sound, and Rukh grinned like a cage himself.
"She put up a fiercer fight than all the others put together," he went on. "It was like trying to bind all hell with a hair, but Mommy Fortuna's powers are great enough even for that. Creatures of night, brought to light. Polly want a cracker?" Few in the crowd laughed. The harpy's talons tightened on her perch until the wood cried out.
"You'll need to be free when
"She put up a fiercer fight than all the others put together," he went on. "It was like trying to bind all hell with a hair, but Mommy Fortuna's powers are great enough even for that. Creatures of night, brought to light. Polly want a cracker?" Few in the crowd laughed. The harpy's talons tightened on her perch until the wood cried out.
"You'll need to be free when

Diego Rivera The Flower Seller painting

Diego Rivera The Flower Seller paintingGustav Klimt The Music paintingGustav Klimt The Friends painting
Unicorns are immortal. It is their nature to live alone in one place: usually a forest where there is a pool clear enough for them to see themselves—for they are a little vain, knowing themselves to be the most beautiful creatures in all the world,wandered all day among the great beech trees, keeping watch over the animals that lived in the ground and under bushes, in nests and caves, earths and treetops. Generation after generation, wolves and rabbits alike, they hunted and loved and had children and died, and as the unicorn did none of these things, she never grew tired of watching them.
and magic besides. They mate very rarely, and no place is more enchanted than one where a unicorn has been born. The last time she had seen another unicorn the young virgins who still came seeking her now and then had called to her in a different tongue; but then, she had no idea of months and years and centuries, or even of seasons. It was always spring in her forest, because she lived

Bartolome Esteban Murillo Inmaculada Museo del Prado painting

Bartolome Esteban Murillo Inmaculada Museo del Prado paintingBartolome Esteban Murillo Inmaculada de Soult paintingGeorge Frederick Watts Sir Galahad painting
curiosity ofthat kind at all. They were kind, patient, generous, sharing food, giving me a house, letting me work with them, but they were not interested in me. Or in anything, as far as I could tell, except their daily pursuits—, preparing food, making jewelry, and conversation. But conversation only with one another.
Like everybody else, I found their language so difficult that they probably thought me retarded. I made the usual attempts to learn by exchanging words—you hit your chest and say your name and look inquiringly at the person facing you—you hold up a leaf and say "leaf" and look hopefully at the person facing you... They simply did not respond. Not even the young children.
As far as I can tell, a Nna Mmoy does not have a name. They address one another by ever-varying phrases which seem to signify both permanent and temporary relationships of consanguinity, of responsibility and

Monday, August 11, 2008

Claude Monet The Waterloo Bridge The Fog painting

Claude Monet The Waterloo Bridge The Fog paintingClaude Monet The Tuileries paintingClaude Monet The Seine at Rouen I painting
but then there was a horrible thing, a nightmare—a face without any eyes—and huge, hairy hands groping at me—and then I heard the three-year-old next door screaming, because I woke up too. That poor child has so many nightmares, she drives us all crazy. Oh, I don't really like thinking about that one. I'm glad we forget most dreams. Wouldn't it be awful if we had to remember them all!"
Dreaming is a cyclical, not a continuous activity, and so in small communities there are hours when one's sleep theater, if one may call it so, is dark. REM sleep among settled, local groups of Frin tends to synchronise. As the cycles peak, about five times a night, several or many dreams may be going on simultaneously in everybody's head, intermingling and influencing one another with their mad, inarguable logic, so that (as my friend in the village described it) the baby turns up in the cistern and the mouse hides between the breasts, while the eyeless monster

James Jacques Joseph Tissot paintings

James Jacques Joseph Tissot paintings
Jules Joseph Lefebvre paintings
Jean Auguste Dominique Ingres paintings
Kergemmeg said that while they are in the south they do not miss their at all. I had to take him at his word, which was given, hard as it might be for us to imagine, simply as a statement of fact.
And as I try to tell here what he told me, it seems wrong to describe their life in the cities as celibate or chaste: for those words imply a forced or willed resistance to desire. Where there is no desire there is no resistance, no abstinence, but rather what one might call, in a radical sense of the word, innocence. Their marital life is an empty memory to them, meaningless. If a couple stays together or meets often in the south it is because they are uncommonly good friends—because they love each other. But they love their other friends too. They never live separately from other people. There is little privacy in the great apartment houses of the cities—nobody cares about it. there is communal, active, sociable, gregarious, and full of pleasures.

Friday, August 8, 2008

Gustav Klimt Portrait of Sonja Knips painting

Gustav Klimt Portrait of Sonja Knips paintingGustav Klimt Portrait of Adele Bloch Bauer paintingSteve Hanks Where the Grass is Greener painting
sometimes fails to occur and the man's orgasm irresistibly approaches, he is obliged to withdraw, and his Karezza becomes a coitus interruptus. The success of Karezza appears to depend on the sublimation of mere sex feelings into predominance of love feelings, and upon a diffusion of sex-consciousness so that too much is not concentrated locally. If local concentration becomes too great, an explosion inevitably follows. I have observed that if the woman a man loves becomes suddenly cold or angry toward him this local concentration is very apt to occur. It is more apt to occur with a fickle and moody or coquettish woman than with a steady and deep one; with a weak woman whose passion is fitful than with a strong woman whose great passion lifts and carries her partner on an even tide. It is harder to be continent on a full meal than on an empty stomach; harder soon after a bath. A vivid emotional experience of any kind may cause it, or intense intellectual exercise. The approach of a change in the weather, if sharp and marked

Guido Reni Archangel Michael painting

Guido Reni Archangel Michael paintingGuido Reni The Coronation of the Virgin paintingGuido Reni Girl with a Rose painting
For instance, very sudden and unexpected leaps, plunges, or contortions on the woman's part, or wild and abandoned writhings are difficult to withstand, and there is one particular movement, in which the feminine organs clasp tenaciously their sensitive guest and then are drawn suddenly, powerfully backward and downward, which, if executed quickly and voluptuously enough and repeated, I feel sure must unlock the strongest man living.
Also where the woman's muscles are tense and she is quivering and vibrating within with avid hunger almost past control, radiating a thrilling excitement - to attempt entrance at such a moment almost certainly means an explosion, though the same condition after penetration is perfect and a harmonious rapport established, may be supportable, safe and exquisitely delightful, provided the man's own will or passion is still stronger.

Thursday, August 7, 2008

Camille Pissarro The Hermitage at Pontoise painting

Camille Pissarro The Hermitage at Pontoise paintingTheodore Robinson The Ship Yard paintingTheodore Robinson World's Columbian Exposition painting
Harry, where did you come from?" Ginny cried, but there was no time to answer her. He put his head down and sprinted forward, narrowly avoiding a blast that erupted over his head, showering them all in bits of wall. Snape must not escape, he must catch up with Snape -
"Take that!" shouted Professor McGonagall, and Harry glimpsed the female Death Eater, Alecto, sprinting away down the corridor with her arms over her head, her brother right behind her. He launched himself after them but his foot caught on something, and next moment he was lying across someone's legs. Looking around, he saw Neville's pale, round face flat against the floor. "Neville, are you - ?"
"M'all right," muttered Neville, who was clutching his stomach, "Harry . . . Snape 'n' Malfoy . . . ran past. . ."

Wednesday, August 6, 2008

Tamara de Lempicka Girl Sleeping painting

Tamara de Lempicka Girl Sleeping paintingTamara de Lempicka Femme a la Colombe paintingTamara de Lempicka Dormeuse painting
case, but his hand had only just closed upon the iron ring of the door when he heard running footsteps on the other side. He looked round at Dumbledore, who gestured to him to retreat. Harry backed away, drawing his wand as he did so.
The door burst open and somebody erupted through it and shouted: 'Expelliarmus!'
Harry's body became instantly rigid and immobile, and he felt himself fall back against the Tower wall, propped like an unsteady statue, unable to move or speak. He could not understand how it had happened - Expelliarmus was not a Freezing Charm -
Then, by the light of the Mark, he saw Dumbledore's wand flying in an arc over the edge of the ramparts and under-stood ... Dumbledore had wordlessly immobilised Harry, and the second he had taken to perform the spell had cost him the chance of defending himself.
Standing against the ramparts, very white in the face, Dumbledore still showed no sign of panic or distress. He merely looked across at his disarmer and said, 'Good evening, Draco.'

Carl Fredrik Aagard The Deer Park painting

Carl Fredrik Aagard The Deer Park paintingSalvador Dali The Great Masturbator painting
coming,' said Harry, almost before Dumbledore had finished speaking. Boiling with anger at Snape, his desire to do something desperate and risky had increased tenfold in the last few minutes. This seemed to show on Harry's face, for Dumbledore moved away from the window, and looked more closely at Harry, a slight crease between his silver eyebrows.
'What has happened to you?'
'Nothing,' lied Harry promptly.
'What has upset you?'
'I'm not upset.'
'Harry, you were never a good Occlumens -'
The word was the spark that ignited Harry's fury.
'Snape!' he said, very loudly, and Fawkes gave a soft squawk behind them. 'Snape's what's happened! He told Voldemort about the prophecy, it was him, he listened outside the door, Trelawney told me!'

Leonardo da Vinci picture of the last supper painting

Leonardo da Vinci picture of the last supper paintingLeonardo da Vinci picture of last supper painting
portrait swung closed behind Harry, but not before he had heard Dean make an angry retort.. . . His feeling of elation in-creasing, Harry strode off through the castle. He did not have to creep along, for he met nobody on his way, but this did not surprise him in the slightest. This evening, he was the luckiest person at Hogwarts.
Why he knew that going to Hagrid's was the right thing to do, he had no idea. It was as though the potion was illuminating a few steps of the path at a time. He could not see the final destination, he could not see where Slughorn came in, but he knew that he was going the right way to get that memory. When he reached the en-trance hall he saw that Filch had forgotten to lock the front door. Beaming, Harry threw it open and breathed in the smell of clean air and grass for a moment before walking down the steps into the dusk.

Tuesday, August 5, 2008

Salvador Dali Living Still Life painting

Salvador Dali Living Still Life paintingMontague Dawson The Americas Cup Race paintingFord Madox Brown Work painting
They turned just in time to see the shadow of Argus Filch looming over the wall behind them before the man himself turned the corner, hunchbacked, his jowls aquiver.
"Oho!" he wheezed. "Out of"Well?" Harry urged him, as Hagrid shuffled his enormous feet uneasily.
"Well — I jus' heard Snape sayin’ Dumbledore took too much fer granted an maybe he — Snape — didn’ wan’ ter do it any more —“
said Hagrid heavily. "I mean, it's always bin a bit of a risk sendin a kid ter Hogwarts, hasn’ it? Yer expect accidents, don' yeh, with hundreds of underage wizards all locked up tergether, but attempted murder, tha's tliff'rent. 'S'no wonder Dumbledore's angry with Sn —"
"It's terrible," growled Hagrid into his beard, as the three ol them walked back along the corridor to the marble staircase. "Ml this new security, an kids are still gettin' hurt. . . . Dumbledoiv's worried sick. . . . He don say much, but I can tell. . . ."

Monday, August 4, 2008

John Singer Sargent Atlantic Storm painting

John Singer Sargent Atlantic Storm paintingRembrandt The Elevation Of The Cross painting
Tom, Tom, if I knew I couldn't tell you," said Slughorn, wagging a reproving, sugar-covered finger at Riddle, though ruining the effect slightly by winking. "I must say, I'd like to know where you get your information, boy, more knowledgeable than half the staff, you are.”
Riddle smiled; the other boys laughed and cast him admiring looks.
"What with your uncanny ability to know things you shouldn’t, and your careful flattery of the people who matter — thank you fm the pineapple, by the way, you're quite right, it is my favorite — "
As several of the boys tittered, something very odd happened. The whole room was suddenly filled with a thick white fog, so that Harry could see nothing but the face of Dumbledore, who was standing beside him. Then Slughorn's voice rang out through the mist, unnaturally loudly, "You'll go wrong, boy, mark my words. "

John Singer Sargent Venetian Canal painting

John Singer Sargent Venetian Canal paintingJohn Singer Sargent The Rialto painting
"So Voldemort stole Morfin's wand and used it?" said Harry, sitting up straight.
"That's right," said Dumbledore. "We have no memories to show us this, but I think we can be fairly sure what happened. Voldemort Stupefied his uncle, took his wand, and proceeded across the valley to 'the big house over the way.' There he murdered the Muggle man who had abandoned his witch mother, and, for good measure, his Muggle grandparents, thus obliterating the last of the unworthy Riddle line and revenging himself upon the father who never wanted him. Then he returned to the Gaunt hovel, performed the complex bit of magic that would implant a false memory in his uncle's mind, laid Morfin's wand beside its unconscious owner, pocketed the ancient ring he wore, and departed."
"And Morfin never realized he hadn't done it?"
"Never," said Dumbledore. "He gave, as I say, a full and boastful confession."

Friday, August 1, 2008

Salvador Dali Ascension painting

Salvador Dali Ascension paintingJuarez Machado Copacabana Palace Hotel paintingJuarez Machado Art Deco Evening painting
Oh, it's been al l right," said Luna. " A bit lonely without the D.A. Ginny's been nice, though. She stopped two boys in our Transfiguration class calling me 'Loony' the other day --"
"How would you like to come to S lughorn's party with me tonight?"
The words were out of Harry's mouth before he could stop them; he heard himself say them as though it were a stranger speaking.
Luna turned her protuberant eyes to him in surprise.
"Slughorn's party? With you?"
"Yeah," said Harry, "We're supposed to bring guests, so I thought you might like.. I mean..." He was keen to make his intentions perfectly clear. " I mean, just as friends, you know. But if you don't want to..."
He was already half hoping that she didn't want to.

Titian Sacred and Profane Love painting

Titian Sacred and Profane Love paintingTitian The Three Ages of Man painting
"I would rather not say just now," said Dumbledore. "However, I shall tell you in due course."
"You will?" said Harry, startled.
"Yes, I expect so," said Dumbledore, withdrawing a fresh bottle of silver memories from inside his robes and uncorking it with a prod of his wand.
"Sir," said Harry tentatively, "I met Mundungus in Hogsmeade."
"Ah yes, I am already aware that Mundungus has been treating your inheritance with light-fingered contempt," said Dumbledore, frowning a little. "He has gone to ground since you accosted him outside the Three Broomsticks; I rather think he dreads facing me. However, rest assured that he will not be making away with any more of Sirius's old possessions."