Jack Vettriano The Missing Man

Jack Vettriano The Missing ManJack Vettriano The Missing Man IJack Vettriano The Man in the Mirror
'Well, then,' she said, 'I don't want something soppy and posey. No silly black lace or anything worn by idiots who write poetry in their rooms and dress like vampires and are vegetarians really.'
The images of clothes floated across her reflection. It was clear that black was the only option, but she settled on something Glod wandered quietly into the University Library. Dwarfs respected learning, provided they didn't have to experience it.
He tugged at the robe of a passing young wizard.
'There's a monkey runs this place, right?' he said. 'Big fat hairy monkey, hands a couple of octaves wide?'
The wizard, a pasty‑faced post‑graduate student, looked down at Glod practical and without frills. She put her head on one side critically.'Well, maybe a bit of lace,' she said. 'And perhaps a bit more . . . bodice.'She nodded at her reflection in the mirror. Certainly it was a dress that no Susan would ever wear, although she suspected that there was a basic Susanness about her which would permeate it after a while.'It's a good job you're here,' she said, 'or I'd go totally mad. Haha.'Then she went to see her grandf . . . Death.There was one place he had to be.

Leonardo da Vinci The Madonna of the Carnation

Leonardo da Vinci The Madonna of the CarnationLeonardo da Vinci da Vinci Self PortraitRembrandt The Return of the Prodigal SonRembrandt rembrandt nightwatch painting
it was all some kind of dream, she didn't seem at any risk of waking up. Anyway, she didn't believe that kind of thing. Dreams weren't like this.
A path led from see how logically stupid the whole idea was, and he'd been standing there, anxiously waiting to see what she'd do...
Old certainties drained away, to be replaced by new certainties.
Now she understood whose granddaughter she was.
The Mended Drum had traditionally gone in for, well, traditional pub games, such as dominoes, darts and Stabbing People In The Back And Taking All Their Money. The new the stable‑yard past a vegetable garden and, descending slightly, into an orchard of black‑leaved trees. Glossy black apples hung from them. Off to one side were some white beehives.And she knew she'd seen it all before.There was an apple tree that was quite, quite different from the others.She stood and stared at it as memory flooded back.She remembered being just old enough to

Franz Marc Reh im Klostergarten

Franz Marc Reh im KlostergartenFranz Marc Pferd in LandschaftFranz Marc KüheFranz Marc Horse in a Landscape
turn the matter over to Corporal Nobbs,' he said.
'That's what I like,' said Gaspode bitterly. 'Incentive.'
He presssed his blotchy nose to the ground. It was all show, anyway. Angua's scent hung in the air like a rainbow.
'You can really talk?'He pulled the gonne into position, clicked a rack of six bullets into position, and sighted at random on a light. And then on another one. And another one.
He really shouldn't have let it shoot that beggar girl. That wasn't the plan. Guild leaders, that was poor little Edward's plan. Guild leaders, to start with. Leave the city leaderless and in turmoil, and then confront his silly candidate and say: Go forth and rule, it is your destiny That was an old disease, that kind of said Carrot.Gaspode rolled his eyes.' 'Course not,' he said.The figure had reached the top of the tower.Lamps and candles were alight all over the city. It was spread out below him. Ten thousand little earthbound stars . . . and he could turn off any one he wanted, just like that. It was like being a god.It was amazing how sounds were so audible up here. It was like being a god. He could hear the howl of dogs, the sound of voices. Occasionally one would be louder than the rest, rising up into the night sky.This was power. The power he had below, the power to say: do this, do that . . . that was just something human, but this . . . this was like being a god.

Vincent van Gogh The Night Cafe in the Place Lamartine in Arles

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thousand years. Just because he thinks that everyone's really decent underneath and would get along just fine if only they made the effort, and he believes that so strongly it burns like a flame which is bigger than he is. He's got a dream and we're all part they stole from the Assassins, but he was right to try to find out who killed Mr Hammerhock And no-one cares about Lettice Knibbs.'
'I like to find out who shoot me,' said Detritus.
'Beats me why anyone'd be daft enough to steal from the Assassins,' said Carrot. 'That's what Captain Vimes said. He said you'd have to be a fool to think of breaking into that place.'of it, so that it shapes the world around him. And the weird thing is that no-one wants to disappoint him. It'd be like kicking the biggest puppy in the universe. It's a kind of magic.'The gold's rubbing off,' said Cuddy. 'But it's a good watch,' he added quickly.'I was hoping we could give it to him tonight,' said Carrot. 'And all go out for a . . . drink . . .''Not a good idea,' said Angua.'Leave it until tomorrow,' said Colon. 'We'll form a guard of honour at the wedding. That's traditional. Everyone holds their swords up in a kind of arch.''We've only got one sword between us,' said Carrot glumly.They all stared at the floor.'It's not fair,' said Angua. 'I don't care who stole whatever