Jack Vettriano in the heat of the day

Jack Vettriano in the heat of the dayJack Vettriano his Favourite girlJack Vettriano her Secret life
shop one stormy night–’
'It wasn't stormy,' said Cliff.
'‑it's bound to . . . yes, all right, but it was raining a bit . . . it's bound to be a bit special. I bet if we was to go back now the shop wouldn't be there. And that'd prove it. Everyone knows things bought from shops which aren't there next day are dead the edge in Buddy's voice. 'He must be very successful. He's got an office in Sator Square. Only very posh businesses can afford that.'
A new day dawned.
It had hardly finished doing so before Ridcully hurried through the dewy grass of the University gardens and hammered on the door of the High Energy Magic Building.
Generally he never went near the place. It wasn't that he didn't understand what it was the young mysterious and items of Fate. Fate's smiling on us, could be.''Doing something on us,' said Cliff. 'I hope it's smiling.''And Mr Dibbler said he'd find us somewhere really special to play tomorrow.''Good,' said Buddy. 'We must play.''Right,' said Cliff. 'We play all right. It's our job.''People should hear our music.''Sure.' Cliff looked puzzled. 'Right. Of course. Dat's what we want. And some pay, too.''Mr Dibbler'll help us,' said Glod, who was too preoccupied to notice

Vincent van Gogh Fishing in Spring

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appeared to be no murderous magic going on. There was just sound, cramming the room to every corner.
Ridcully shuffled into his slippers and went out into the corridor, where other members of the faculty were milling around and the Drum. They said nothing all the way to Gimlet's delicatessen. They said nothing while they waited in the queue, and then all they said was: 'So . . . right . . . that's one Quatre‑rodenti with extra newts, hold the chillis, one Klatchian Hots with double salami and a Four Strata, no pitchblende.'
They sat down to wait. The guitar played a little four‑note riff. They tried not to think about it. They tried to think about other things.blearily asking one another what the hell was happening. Plaster rained down on them from the ceiling in a steady fog.'Who's causing that din?' shouted Ridcully. There was a mute chorus of unheard replies, and much shrugging of shoulders.'Well, I will find out,' growled the Archchancellor, and set off for the stairs with the others trailing after him.He walked without his knees or elbows bending very much, a sure sign of a forthright man in a bad temper.The trio said nothing all the way out of

Thomas Kinkade Cape Hatteras Light

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body a cautious prod. It didn't move.
Nothing looking like that should move. A twisted axe lay beside it.
'Oh, no,' he breathed.
There was a thin rope, the sort the Assassins used, hanging down from the heights. It was twitching. Colon looked up at the haze, and drew his sword.
He could see all the way to the top, and there was no-one on the rope. Which meant—
He didn't Cuddy.
And will you look at that?' he said. 'My dad made that axe for me! A fine weapon to take into the afterlife, I don't think!'
IS THAT SOME KIND OF BURIAL CUSTOM?
'Don't you know? You are Death, aren't you?'even look around, which saved his life.His dive for the floor and the explosion of the gonne behind him happened at exactly the same time. He swore afterwards that he felt the wind of the slug as it passed over his head.Then a figure stepped through the smoke and hit him very hard before escaping through the open door, into the rain. ACTING-CONSTABLE CUDDY?Cuddy brushed himself off.'Oh,' he said. 'I see. I didn't think I was going to survive that. Not after the first hundred feet.'YOU WERE CORRECT.The unreal world of the living was already fading, but Cuddy glared at the twisted remains of his axe. It seemed to worry him far more than the twisted remains erf

Pop art miles 1960, on blue

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stuck his head and shoulders through the hole, but Colon tried to pull him back.
'Hang on, lad, you don't know what horrors lie beyond these walls—'
'I'm just having a look to find out.'
'It could be a torture he came back through this hole? So how did he get killed?'
'By the Assassins, surely,' said Dr Whiteface. 'They'd be within their rights. Trespass on Guild property is a very serious offence, after all.'
'Did anyone see Beano after the explosion?' said Carrot.chamber or a dungeon or a hideous pit or anything!''It's just a student's bedroom, sergeant.''You see?'Carrot stepped through. They could hear him moving around in the gloom. It was Assassin's gloom, somehow richer and less gloomy than clown's gloom.He poked his head through again.'No-one's been in here for a while, though,' he said. 'There's dust all over the floor but there's footprints in it. And the door's locked and bolted. On this side.'The rest of his body followed Carrot.'I just want to make sure I fully understand this,' he said to Dr Whiteface. 'Beano made a hole into the Assassins' Guild, yes? And then he went and exploded that dragon? And then

Rembrandt Hendrickje Bathing in a River

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Stale! How can it be stale? It's rockl' shouted Dibbler after them He shrugged. Oh, well. The hallmark of a good businessman was knowing when to cut your losses.
He closed the lid of .
'I'll cut your knees off,' he said.
'GerhardtSockoftheButchers'Guildiswhoyouwant.'
'Right.'
' Nowpleasetaketheaxeaway.'
Cuddy's boots skidded on the cobbles as he hurried the tray, and opened another one.'Hole food! Hole food! Rat! Rat! Rat-onna-stick! Rat-in-a-bun! Get them while they're dead! Get chore—'There was a crash of glass above him, and Lance-Constable Cuddy landed head first in the tray.'There's no need to rush, plenty for everyone,' said Dibbler.'Pull me out,' said Cuddy, in a muffled voice. 'Or pass me the ketchup.'Dibbler hauled on the dwarf's boots. There was ice on them.'Just come down the mountain, have you?''Where's the man with the key to this warehouse?''If you liked our rat, then why not try our fine selection of-'Cuddy's axe appeared almost magically in his hand

Paul Gauguin The White Horse

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,' said Gaspode. 'Lots of fear.'
He sniffed the planks. 'Human fear, not dwarf. You can tell if it's dwarfs. It's the rat diet, see? Phew! Must have been real bad to stay this strong.'
'I smell one male human, one dwarf,' said Angua.
'Yeah. One dead dwarf.'
Gaspode stuck can't lie. Pheremonies. It's the ole sexual alchemy stuff.'
'I've only known him a couple of nights!'
'Aha!'
'What do you mean, aha?'
'Nothing, nothing. Nothing wrong with it, anyway—'his battered nose along the line of the door, and snuffled noisily.'There's other stuff,' he said, 'but it's a bugger what with the river so close and everything. There's oil and . . . grease . . . and all sorts – hey, where're you going?'Gaspode trotted after her as Angua headed back to Rime Street, nose close to the ground.'Following the trail.''What for? He won't thank you, you know.''Who won't?''Your young man.'Angua stopped so suddenly that Gaspode ran into her.'You mean Corporal Carrot? He's not my young man!''Yeah? I'm a dog, right? It's all in the nose, right? Smell

Paul Klee Fish Magic

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YOU'RE DEAD.
'Yes. I know.' Beano relaxed, and stopped wondering too much about events in an increasingly irrelevant world. Death found that people often did, after the initial confusion. After all, the worst had already happened. At least . . . with any luck.life as a clown. He smiled grimly, under his make-up.
'I like it.'

Vimes' meeting with the Patrician ended as all such meetings did, with the guest going away in possession of an unfocused yet nagging suspicion that he'd only just escaped with his life.
Vimes trudged on to see his bride-to-be. He knew where she would be found.
The sign scrawled across the big double gates in Morphic Street said: Here be Dragns.IF YOU WOULD CARE TO FOLLOW ME . . .'Will there be custard pies? Red noses? Juggling? Are there likely to be baggy trousers?'NO.Beano had spent almost all his short