Gustav Klimt The Bride

Gustav Klimt The BrideGustav Klimt Schubert at the PianoGustav Klimt Malcesine on Lake GardaDaniel Ridgway Knight WaitingClaude Monet Vase Of Flowers
you straight into the heart of a star, the flaming sword that burns all the way down to the pommel. Sooner juggle torches in a tar pit than mess with real magic. Sooner lie down in front of a thousand elephants.
At least, The orang-utan stopped in front of an arched doorway that was blocked with a door made not of wood but of stone, balanced so that it could easily be opened from outside but could withstand massive pressure from within.
He paused for a moment, and then reached into a little alcove and removed a mask of iron and smoked glass, which he put on, and a pair of heavy leather gloves reinforced that’s what wizards say, which is why they charge such swingeingly huge fees for getting involved with the bloody stuff. But down here, in the dark tunnels, there was no hiding behind amulets and starry robes and pointy hats. Down here, you either had it or you didn’t. And if you hadn’t got it, you’d had it. There were sounds from behind the heavily barred doors as the Librarian shuffled along. Once or twice something heavy threw itself against a door, making the hinges rattle. There were noises.