John William Waterhouse Miranda - The Tempest

John William Waterhouse Miranda - The TempestJohn William Waterhouse Echo and NarcissusLeonardo da Vinci Madonna with the Yarnwinder
The Dust fall shone like a great pillar of faint light as it descended smoothly and never-endingly into the gulf. Mrs. Coulter had no attention to spare for it, because the shadow beside her was trembling with desire, and she had to keep him by a sweet malice, "how glad I am that the child will never grow up to love and be loved. I thought I loved her when she was a baby; but now...”
"There was regret," the shadow said, "in your heart there was regret that you will not see her grow up."
"Oh, Metatron, how long it is since you were a man! Can you really not tell what it is I'm regretting? It's not her coming of age, but mine. How bitterly I regret that I didn't her side, under what control she could manage.They moved down, silent, following Lord Asriel. The farther down they climbed, the more she felt a great weariness fall over her."What? What?" whispered the shadow, feeling her emotions, and suspicious at once."I was thinking," she said with

Andy Warhol Mao 1972

Andy Warhol Mao 1972Andy Warhol Jackie 1964Andy Warhol Flowers 1970
who hadn't were imagining it, and no one spoke until a young woman came forward. She had died as a martyr centuries before. She looked around and said to the other ghosts:
"When we were won't be nothing. We'll be alive again in a thousand blades of grass, and a million leaves; we'll be falling in the in solitary prayer, while all the joy of l was going to waste around us and we never knew."Because the land of the dead isn't a place of reward or a place of punishment. It's a place of nothing. The good come here as well as the wicked, and all of us languish in this gloom forever, with no hope of freedom, or joy, or sleep, or rest, or peace."But now this child has come offering us a way out and I'm going to follow her. Even if it means oblivion, friends, I'll welcome it, because it raindrops and blowing in the fresh breeze; we'll be glittering in the dew under the stars and the moon out there in the physical world, which is our true and always was."So I urge you: come with the child out to the sky!"alive, they told us that when we died we'd go to Heaven. And they said that Heaven was a place of joy and glory and we would spend eternity in the company of saints and angels praising the Almighty, in a state of bliss. That's what they said. And that's what led some of us to give our lives, and others to spend years

Jack Vettriano exit Eden

Jack Vettriano exit EdenJack Vettriano Evening RacingJack Vettriano Elegy for the Dead Admiral
been an eclipse of the sun, and like millions of others Will had stood outside at midday and watched as the bright daylight faded and dimmed until a sort of eerie twilight covered the houses, the trees, the park. Everything was just as clear as in full daylight, but there was less light to see it by, as if all the strength were draining out of a dying sun.
What was happening The people themselves, closer now, had begun to notice, too, and were pointing and holding one another's arms for reassurance.
The only bright things in the whole landscape were the brilliant red-and-yellow and electric blue of the dragonflies, and their little riders, and Will and Lyra, and Pantalaimon, who now was like that, but odder, because the edges of things were losing their definition as well and becoming blurred."It's not like going blind, even," said Lyra, frightened, "because it's not that we can't see things, it's like the things themselves are fading..."The color was slowly seeping out of the world. A dim green gray for the bright green of the trees and the grass, a dim sand gray for the vivid yellow of a field of corn, a dim blood gray for the red bricks of a neat farmhouse ...

Jack Vettriano her Secret life

Jack Vettriano her Secret lifeJack Vettriano Her Secret Life IIJack Vettriano Heat Wave
Chevalier Tialys and the Lady Salmakia. Could you tell us your name and where we are?"
This normal-sounding request seemed to bring the man to his senses, and a shudder passed over him, as if he were waking here and there in the kitchen, looking for a way out.
But the man didn't notice them. He was still trying to understand what had happened.
"Are you a ghost?" Will said cautiously.
The man reached out his hand, and Will tried to take it, but his fingers closed on the air. A tingle of cold was all he felt.
When he saw it happen, the man looked at his own hand, appalled. The numbness from a dream."I'm dead," he said. "I'm lying out there, dead. I know I am. You ain't dead. What's happening? God help me, they cut my throat. What's happening?"Lyra stepped closer to Will when the man said I'm dead, and Pantalaimon fled to her breast as a mouse. As for the Gallivespians, they were trying to control their dragonflies, because the great insects seemed to have an aversion for the man and darted

Jack Vettriano Girls' Night

Jack Vettriano Girls' NightJack Vettriano Ghosts From The PastJack Vettriano Games of Power
Salmakia flew down to perch on Lyra's hand. The dragonfly's little claws pricked as the Lady said, "There are people walking from the village, people like this man, all walking in the same direction."
"Then we'll go with them," became a kestrel and flew up as high as he could, making Lyra gasp.
"They're right," he said when he came down. "There's lines of people all coming from the village. Dead people..."
And soon they saw them, too: twenty or so men, women, and children, all moving as Dirk Jansen had done, uncertain and shocked. The village was half a mile away, and the people were coming toward them, close together in the middle of the road. When Dirk Jansen saw said Will, and swung his rucksack over his shoulder.Dirk Jansen was already passing his own body, averting his t eyes. He looked almost as if he were drunk, stopping, moving on, wandering to left and right, stumbling over little ruts and stones on the path his living feet had known so well.Lyra came after Will, and Pantalaimon

Vincent van Gogh The Yellow House

Vincent van Gogh The Yellow HouseLeonardo da Vinci Virgin of the RocksLeonardo da Vinci St John the Baptist
picked off by a lucky shot from the swaying zeppelins.
By this time, both sides had landed some troops. Some had been killed between the sky and the ground; several more were wounded and lay on the cliff or among the trees. But neither force had yet reached the cave, and still the power inside it lay with Mrs. Coulter.
Will said above the "No, I didn't. I wanted it whole, so we could get away. You were the one who broke it."
Lyra's voice came urgently: "Will?" she muttered. "Is that Will?"
"Lyra!" he said, and knelt quickly beside her. Ama was helping her sit up.
"What's happening?" Lyra said. "Where are we? Oh, Will, I had noise:"What are you going to do?""Hold you captive.""What, as hostages? Why should they take any notice of that? They want to kill us all anyway.""One force does, certainly," she said, "but I'm not sure about the other. We must hope the Africans win."She sounded happy, and in the glare from outside, Will saw her face full of joy and and energy."You broke the knife," he said.

John William Waterhouse The Lady of Shalott

John William Waterhouse The Lady of ShalottJohn William Waterhouse waterhouse OpheliaJohn William Waterhouse Hylas and the Nymphs
attention-catching reflections in it, just a square patch of difference. And then she remembered what the I Ching had said: a bypath . . . little stones, doors, and openings.
It was a window like the oneas possible. But she examined this one in detail, touching the edge, moving around to see how it became invisible from the other side, noting the absolute difference between this and that, and found her mind almost bursting with excitement that such things could be.
The knife bearer who had made it, at about the time of the American Revolution, had been too careless to close it, but at least he'd cut through at a point very similar to the world on this side: next to a rock face. But the rock on the other side was in Sunderland Avenue in Oxford. She could only see it because of the light: with the sun any higher it probably wouldn't show up at all.She approached the little patch of air with passionate curiosity, because she hadn't had time to look at the first one: she'd had to get away as quickly

Wassily Kandinsky Red Spot II

Wassily Kandinsky Red Spot IIWassily Kandinsky Flood ImprovisationVincent van Gogh Autumn Landscape
The Essential Gandhi, by Louis Fischer. Whether you’re a fan of Gandhi or not, his writings are inspiring and his words have had deep haven’t read or heard anything by Chomsky, this book could be eye-opening. It was for me when I read it more than a decade ago, and it taught me a lot about political systems and the media, and from this I’ve become more critical of the information I consume (and perhaps a little more cynical about politics as well). Anyway, I highly recommend this or other Chomsky works if you’d like to get a completely different perspective on things, from one of the most famous dissidents of our times. 13. The 7 Habits of Highly Effective People, by Stephen Covey. Indispensable reading for anyone who wants to learn to focus on the important things and become and widespread impact. I am a subscriber to his writings on non-violence and civil disobedience and truth. I’m inspired every time I pick up this book. 12. Manufacturing Consent, by Noam Chomsky and Edward Herman. If you

Paul Gauguin Les Alyscamps

Paul Gauguin Les AlyscampsPaul Gauguin By the SeaPaul Gauguin Breton Girls Dancing
don’t actually want it. * We do not come up with a plan to make it a reality.
Problems with To-Do lists:
Don’t get me wrong, I love to-do lists more than the average gal. However, due to their never ending nature (seriously, they never end), they are not the most effective way to manage our lives in a meaningful and balanced way.up chasing after a never ending to-do list and forget to live our lives.
Here are some common issues with using to-do lists alone to manage our lives:
* The sheer number of tasks can seem overwhelming. * The list never ends and you will always have more items to add.When we feel unbalanced, it is truly helpful to list out the tasks that are weighing on us, in a to-do list, and categorize them on paper. Getting these things out of our heads and onto paper frees up mental capacity. Indeed, we can get a lot of stuff done with to-do lists, and they are a very helpful tool, but using the lists alone will leave us feeling unfulfilled because we end

Andy Warhol Camouflage orange yellow blue

Andy Warhol Camouflage orange yellow blueAndy Warhol Camouflage green yellow whiteAndy Warhol Camouflage green blue yellow
Prostitution is the last sexual territory owned by men,” she said in an interview. “Men are in control of pleasure and have the right to buy it. Women do not. A lot of my friends are alone, lonely, divorced. They can’t always reinvent France is struggling with boundaries: the public portrayal of sex and the limits of privacy for its public figures. This is the case, even though historically, the French are much less conflicted than Americans when it comes to sex.
France is, after all, a country where the very themselves with another man and a new family. So I decided to show a female client of a male escort. She’s not a victim. She is a woman who is in control of her life, her feelings, her sexual pleasure.”Six years ago, Ms. Balasko could not sell the television screenplay. Its subject, she said, was considered “too raw, too hot.” After the book version became a best seller, it was easy to attract financial backing for a film.“Cliente” comes at a moment when

Jack Vettriano The Temptress

Jack Vettriano The TemptressJack Vettriano The Road to NowhereJack Vettriano The Railway Station
the third morning there were the clouds Ennis had expected, a grey racer out of the west, a bar of darkness driving wind before it and small flakes. It faded after an hour into tender spring snow that heaped wet and heavy. By nightfall it last few months he’d slank around expecting to get shot by Lureen or the husband, one. Ennis laughed a little and said he probably deserved it. Jack said he was doing all right but he missed Ennis bad enough sometimes to make him whip babies. The horses nickered in the darkness beyond the fire’s circle of light. Ennis put his arm around Jack, pulled him close, said he saw his girls about once a month, Alma Jr. a shy seventeen-year-old with his beanpole length, Francine a little live wire. Jack slid his cold turned colder. Jack and Ennis passed a joint back and forth, the fire burning late, Jack restless and bitching about the cold, poking the flames with a stick, twisting the dial of the transistor radio until the batteries died. Ennis said he’d been putting the blocks to a woman who worked part-time at the Wolf Ears bar in Signal where he was working now for Stoutamire’s cow and calf outfit, but it wasn’t going anywhere and she had some problems he didn’t want. Jack said he’d had a thing going with the wife of a rancher down the road in Childress and for the

Jack Vettriano The Rooms of a Stranger

Jack Vettriano The Rooms of a StrangerJack Vettriano The Road to NowhereJack Vettriano The Remains of Love
without restraint; and, because he was the most loving of creatures, he would also have been the happiest, if, in becoming human, he had not, unfortunately, retained his little doggy failings. He was jealous! He was terribly jealous; and his heart and being petted and kissed by the Children, just as he had been! Oh, how he hated the Cat! To bear the sight of her beside him, to see her always sharing in the affection of the family: that was the great sacrifice which fate demanded of him. He accepted it, however, without a word, because it pleased his her old tom-cat, who had never done him any harm? Had he not broken the back of the Persian cat at the Hall opposite? Did he not sometimes go to town on purpose to hunt cats and put an end to them, all to wreak his spite? And now Tylette was going to talk, just like himself! Tylette would be his equal in the new world that was opening before him!
"Oh, there is no justice left on earth!" was his bitter thought. "There is no justice left!"
In the meantime, the Cat, who had begun by washing herself and polishing her claws, calmly put out her paw to the little girl.
She really was a very pretty cat; and, if our friend Tylô's jealousy had not been such an ugly feeling, we might almost have overlooked it for once! How could you fail to be attracted by Tylette's eyes, which were like topaz set in emeralds? How could you resist the pleasure of stroking the wonderful black velvet back? How could you not love her grace, her gentleness and the dignity of her poses?
Smiling amiably and speaking in well-chosen language, she said to Mytyl: