Thomas Kinkade Victorian ChristmasThomas Kinkade Lamplight bridgeThomas Kinkade Stillwater Cottage
Any moment now he'll lose patience," she whispered. "I told him to make himself small. But he's only an angel, after all, even if he was once a man. And we can wrestle with him and bring him to the edge of the gulf, and we'll both go down with him..."
He kissed her, saying, "Yes. Lyra will be safe, and the Kingdom will be powerless against her. Call him now, Marisa, my love."out of the golden air and took in at once what was happening: the two daemons, crouching and watchful, the woman with the nimbus of Dust, and Lord Asriel...
Who leapt at him at once, seizing him around the waist, and tried to hurl him to the groundShe took a deep breath and let it out in a long, shuddering sigh. Then she smoothed her skirt down over her thighs and tucked the hair back behind her ears."Metatron," she called softly. "It's time."Metatron's shadow-cloaked form appeared
Tuesday, January 20, 2009
Sunday, January 18, 2009
Caravaggio Taking of Christ
Caravaggio Taking of ChristCaravaggio The Incredulity of Saint ThomasAlbert Bierstadt Among the Sierra Nevada Mountains California
when she spoke just now, you all listened, every one of you, and you kept silent and still. Again, why was that?"
"Because it was true," said No-Name. "Because she spoke the truth. Because it was nourishing. Because it was feeding us. Because we couldn't help it. Because it was true. Because we had no idea that there was anything but wickedness. Because it brought us news of the world and the sun and the wind and the rain. Because it was true."tell you about the world. And you'll have the right to hear them, and they will have to tell you."
Lyra marveled at the nerve of the little spy. How did he dare speak to these creatures as if he had the power to give them rights? Any one of them could have snapped him up in a moment, wrenched him apart in her claws or carried him high and then hurled him down to the ground to smash in pieces. And yet there he stood, proud and fearless, making a bargain with "Then," said Tialys, "let's make a bargain with you. Instead of seeing only the wickedness and cruelty and greed of the ghosts that come down here, from now on you will have the right to ask all the ghosts to tell you the stories of their lives, and they will have to tell the truth about what they've seen and touched and heard and loved and known in the world. Every one of these ghosts has a story; every single one that comes down in the future will have true things to
when she spoke just now, you all listened, every one of you, and you kept silent and still. Again, why was that?"
"Because it was true," said No-Name. "Because she spoke the truth. Because it was nourishing. Because it was feeding us. Because we couldn't help it. Because it was true. Because we had no idea that there was anything but wickedness. Because it brought us news of the world and the sun and the wind and the rain. Because it was true."tell you about the world. And you'll have the right to hear them, and they will have to tell you."
Lyra marveled at the nerve of the little spy. How did he dare speak to these creatures as if he had the power to give them rights? Any one of them could have snapped him up in a moment, wrenched him apart in her claws or carried him high and then hurled him down to the ground to smash in pieces. And yet there he stood, proud and fearless, making a bargain with "Then," said Tialys, "let's make a bargain with you. Instead of seeing only the wickedness and cruelty and greed of the ghosts that come down here, from now on you will have the right to ask all the ghosts to tell you the stories of their lives, and they will have to tell the truth about what they've seen and touched and heard and loved and known in the world. Every one of these ghosts has a story; every single one that comes down in the future will have true things to
Friday, January 16, 2009
Jack Vettriano Lines of Sacrifice
Jack Vettriano Lines of SacrificeJack Vettriano legs ElevenJack Vettriano Lazy Hazy Days
After a few moments he tried again. Instead of trying not to think of his mother, he said to himself: Yes, I know she's there, but I'm just going to look away while I do this...
And that time it worked. He found a new world and slid the knife along to make an opening, and a few moments later all of themat once, looking pale.
"There's four,” she gulped, hand to her throat, and recovered, "four dead horses in there. And millions of flies..."
"Look," said Will, swallowing, "or maybe better not."
He was pointing at the raspberry canes that edged the just seen a man's legs, one with a shoe on and one without, protruding from the thickest part were standing in what looked like a neat and prosperous farmyard in some northern country like Holland or Denmark, where the stone-flagged yard was swept and clean and a row of stable doors stood open. The sun shone down through a hazy sky, and there was the smell of burning in the air, as well as something less pleasant. There was no a loud buzzing, so active and vigorous that it sounded like a machine, came from the stables.Lyra went and looked, and came back
After a few moments he tried again. Instead of trying not to think of his mother, he said to himself: Yes, I know she's there, but I'm just going to look away while I do this...
And that time it worked. He found a new world and slid the knife along to make an opening, and a few moments later all of themat once, looking pale.
"There's four,” she gulped, hand to her throat, and recovered, "four dead horses in there. And millions of flies..."
"Look," said Will, swallowing, "or maybe better not."
He was pointing at the raspberry canes that edged the just seen a man's legs, one with a shoe on and one without, protruding from the thickest part were standing in what looked like a neat and prosperous farmyard in some northern country like Holland or Denmark, where the stone-flagged yard was swept and clean and a row of stable doors stood open. The sun shone down through a hazy sky, and there was the smell of burning in the air, as well as something less pleasant. There was no a loud buzzing, so active and vigorous that it sounded like a machine, came from the stables.Lyra went and looked, and came back
Thursday, January 15, 2009
jasper johns Target with Four Faces
jasper johns Target with Four FacesSalvador Dali ArgusJohannes Vermeer The Little Street
Will made a small opening, low down, looked through, and enlarged it swiftly, getting through in a moment on hands and knees. Ama was right behind him, and altogether the window was open for less than ten seconds.
They crouched on the cave floor behind a large rock, with the bird-formed Balthamos beside them, their eyes taking some moments to adjust from the moon-drenched brilliance of the other world. Inside the cave it was much darker, and much out in the depths of her sleep, right next to Mrs. Coulter. Their outlines had merged in the darkness; no wonder he hadn't seen her.
Will touched Anna's hand and pointed.
"We'll just have to do it very carefully," he whispered.more full of sound: mostly the wind in the trees, but below that was another sound, too. It was the roar of a zeppelin's engine, and it wasn't far away.With the knife in his right hand, Will balanced himself carefully and looked around.Ama was doing the same, and her owl-eyed daemon was peering this way and that; but Lyra was not at this end of the cave. There was no doubt about it.Will raised his head over the rock and took a long, steady look down toward the entrance, where Mrs. Coulter and her daemon lay deep in sleep.And then his heart sank. There lay Lyra, stretched
Will made a small opening, low down, looked through, and enlarged it swiftly, getting through in a moment on hands and knees. Ama was right behind him, and altogether the window was open for less than ten seconds.
They crouched on the cave floor behind a large rock, with the bird-formed Balthamos beside them, their eyes taking some moments to adjust from the moon-drenched brilliance of the other world. Inside the cave it was much darker, and much out in the depths of her sleep, right next to Mrs. Coulter. Their outlines had merged in the darkness; no wonder he hadn't seen her.
Will touched Anna's hand and pointed.
"We'll just have to do it very carefully," he whispered.more full of sound: mostly the wind in the trees, but below that was another sound, too. It was the roar of a zeppelin's engine, and it wasn't far away.With the knife in his right hand, Will balanced himself carefully and looked around.Ama was doing the same, and her owl-eyed daemon was peering this way and that; but Lyra was not at this end of the cave. There was no doubt about it.Will raised his head over the rock and took a long, steady look down toward the entrance, where Mrs. Coulter and her daemon lay deep in sleep.And then his heart sank. There lay Lyra, stretched
Wednesday, January 14, 2009
William Bouguereau Nymphs and Satyr.
William Bouguereau Nymphs and Satyr.
Andy Warhol SupermanAndy Warhol Sunset
of the great trees looked inviting; and there was plenty of time, after all.
Before long she found herself stepping out of the grass onto one of those rivers of stone she'd seen from the hill: something else to wonder at.
It might once have a guess.
When she came to the first trunk, she rested her hands on the deeply ridged red-gold bark. The ground was covered ankle-deep in brown leaf skeletons as long as her hand, soft and fragrant to walk on. She was soon surrounded by a cloud of midgelike flying things, as well as a little flock of the tiny hummingbirds, a yellow butterfly with a wingspread as broad as her hand, and too many crawling things for comfort. The air was full of humming and buzzing and scrapingbeen some kind of lava-flow. The underlying color was dark, almost black, but the surface was paler, as if it had been ground down or worn by crushing. It was as smooth as a stretch of well-laid road in Mary's own world, and certainly easier to walk on than the grass.She followed the one she was on, which flowed in a wide curve toward the trees. The closer she got, the more astounded she was by the enormous size of the trunks, as wide, she estimated, as the house she lived in, and as tall, as tall as... She couldn't even make
Andy Warhol SupermanAndy Warhol Sunset
of the great trees looked inviting; and there was plenty of time, after all.
Before long she found herself stepping out of the grass onto one of those rivers of stone she'd seen from the hill: something else to wonder at.
It might once have a guess.
When she came to the first trunk, she rested her hands on the deeply ridged red-gold bark. The ground was covered ankle-deep in brown leaf skeletons as long as her hand, soft and fragrant to walk on. She was soon surrounded by a cloud of midgelike flying things, as well as a little flock of the tiny hummingbirds, a yellow butterfly with a wingspread as broad as her hand, and too many crawling things for comfort. The air was full of humming and buzzing and scrapingbeen some kind of lava-flow. The underlying color was dark, almost black, but the surface was paler, as if it had been ground down or worn by crushing. It was as smooth as a stretch of well-laid road in Mary's own world, and certainly easier to walk on than the grass.She followed the one she was on, which flowed in a wide curve toward the trees. The closer she got, the more astounded she was by the enormous size of the trunks, as wide, she estimated, as the house she lived in, and as tall, as tall as... She couldn't even make
Monday, January 12, 2009
Mark Rothko Untitled 1960
Mark Rothko Untitled 1960Mark Rothko Violet Green and RedMark Rothko Green Red on Orange
this for 2,500 years. But this book explores the idea from a psychological point of view, showing us how our thoughts are what create our emotions, how we can become calm in the middle of chaos, how we can minimize stress, become betterHappiness are simple yet insightful, and even if there’s nothing overly profound, I found them to be great reminders about why living a more compassionate life can have incredible meaning for ourselves and those around us. parents, improve our relationships, and much more. I’ve been trying this myself recently and it works wonders. 3. Simplify Your life, by Elaine St. James. This is one of the books that most influenced the simple philosophy behind this site. I began simplifying my life when I first read this book a decade ago, and though I’ve had some ups and downs, I credit my love for simplifying to Elaine St. James. It’s an easy read and there are some great tips in there. 4. The Art of Happiness, by the Dalai Lama. I love the Dalai Lama mostly because he always seems so happy and compassionate. I don’t know if the actual person is like that, but his writings on compassion and
this for 2,500 years. But this book explores the idea from a psychological point of view, showing us how our thoughts are what create our emotions, how we can become calm in the middle of chaos, how we can minimize stress, become betterHappiness are simple yet insightful, and even if there’s nothing overly profound, I found them to be great reminders about why living a more compassionate life can have incredible meaning for ourselves and those around us. parents, improve our relationships, and much more. I’ve been trying this myself recently and it works wonders. 3. Simplify Your life, by Elaine St. James. This is one of the books that most influenced the simple philosophy behind this site. I began simplifying my life when I first read this book a decade ago, and though I’ve had some ups and downs, I credit my love for simplifying to Elaine St. James. It’s an easy read and there are some great tips in there. 4. The Art of Happiness, by the Dalai Lama. I love the Dalai Lama mostly because he always seems so happy and compassionate. I don’t know if the actual person is like that, but his writings on compassion and
Sunday, January 11, 2009
Paul Gauguin What Are You Jealous
Paul Gauguin What Are You JealousPaul Gauguin Two Tahitian WomenPaul Gauguin The White Horse
Are you tired of setting New Year’s resolutions only to find yourself faced with the same resolutions a year later? Don’t you just hate that feeling of guilt rising in your stomach at the thought of lost time, lost opportunities and lack of self-discipline?
I was at the gym last night and was countless new faces.
This is what I call “New Year’s Resolution Syndrome”.
It is well-known that gyms will overbook annual memberships at the start of each year, banking on the fact that many people will not follow through and will eventually stop showing up. Over the next few weeks, the traffic will slowly die down and the gym will be back to its normal and quiet self again.shocked to see 3 times as many people there than normal. Rushing out of a locker room filled, hip-to-hip, with half-clothed ladies I’ve never seen before, I hopped on the last of twelve treadmills and gazed around the room in amazement - nearly every machine was occupied, the personal trainers were fully engaged, and there were
Are you tired of setting New Year’s resolutions only to find yourself faced with the same resolutions a year later? Don’t you just hate that feeling of guilt rising in your stomach at the thought of lost time, lost opportunities and lack of self-discipline?
I was at the gym last night and was countless new faces.
This is what I call “New Year’s Resolution Syndrome”.
It is well-known that gyms will overbook annual memberships at the start of each year, banking on the fact that many people will not follow through and will eventually stop showing up. Over the next few weeks, the traffic will slowly die down and the gym will be back to its normal and quiet self again.shocked to see 3 times as many people there than normal. Rushing out of a locker room filled, hip-to-hip, with half-clothed ladies I’ve never seen before, I hopped on the last of twelve treadmills and gazed around the room in amazement - nearly every machine was occupied, the personal trainers were fully engaged, and there were
Thursday, January 8, 2009
Andy Warhol Banana
Andy Warhol BananaAndy Warhol 300 SL Coupe 1954
Andy Warhol Superman
midnight last Saturday, Canal-Plus, a satellite television channel, aired six soft-core pornographic films directed by women. Billed as pornography by women for women, the films are promoted as being “attentive to feminine pleasure by taking into account its aesthetic aspects.”
In one film, a feminism, “The Second Sex.” It is devoted to women’s sexual pleasure — intellectual, sociological and practical — and sells, among other things, erotic films and sex toys that Ms. Bramly describes as “nicely designed and functional.”
“Women are still a little confused,” Ms. Bramly said. “They work incredibly hard and they wake up one day to find that the husband has run off withwoman dressed in a bed jacket and long colored necklaces masturbates. “I often find porn humiliating for women,” Caroline Loeb, the director of the film, said in an interview in Elle. “Since I am a feminist, it was the chance to portray another, .”The producer of the films, Sophie Bramly, last year founded a Web site that is a tribute to Simone de Beauvoir’s groundbreaking book on
Andy Warhol Superman
midnight last Saturday, Canal-Plus, a satellite television channel, aired six soft-core pornographic films directed by women. Billed as pornography by women for women, the films are promoted as being “attentive to feminine pleasure by taking into account its aesthetic aspects.”
In one film, a feminism, “The Second Sex.” It is devoted to women’s sexual pleasure — intellectual, sociological and practical — and sells, among other things, erotic films and sex toys that Ms. Bramly describes as “nicely designed and functional.”
“Women are still a little confused,” Ms. Bramly said. “They work incredibly hard and they wake up one day to find that the husband has run off withwoman dressed in a bed jacket and long colored necklaces masturbates. “I often find porn humiliating for women,” Caroline Loeb, the director of the film, said in an interview in Elle. “Since I am a feminist, it was the chance to portray another, .”The producer of the films, Sophie Bramly, last year founded a Web site that is a tribute to Simone de Beauvoir’s groundbreaking book on
Tuesday, January 6, 2009
Jack Vettriano pincer Movement
Jack Vettriano pincer MovementJack Vettriano Picnic PartyJack Vettriano Only the deepest Red II
raiser and he raised hell about me takin the week. I don’t blame him. He probly ain’t got a night’s sleep since I left. The tradeoff was place. He’d heard. He was cutting fence now, trespassing in the shoot-em zone. “Hell yes, I been. Where’s the f*ckin problem?” Braced for it all these years and here it came, late and unexpected. “I got a say this to you one time, Jack, and I ain’t foolin. What I don’t know,” said Ennis, “all them things I don’t know could get you killed if I should come to know them.”August. You got a better idea?”“I did once.” The tone was bitter and accusatory. Ennis said nothing, straightened up slowly, rubbed at his forehead; a horse stamped inside the trailer. He walked to his truck, put his hand on the trailer, said something that only the horses could hear, turned and walked back at a deliberate pace.“You been a Mexico, Jack?” Mexico was the
raiser and he raised hell about me takin the week. I don’t blame him. He probly ain’t got a night’s sleep since I left. The tradeoff was place. He’d heard. He was cutting fence now, trespassing in the shoot-em zone. “Hell yes, I been. Where’s the f*ckin problem?” Braced for it all these years and here it came, late and unexpected. “I got a say this to you one time, Jack, and I ain’t foolin. What I don’t know,” said Ennis, “all them things I don’t know could get you killed if I should come to know them.”August. You got a better idea?”“I did once.” The tone was bitter and accusatory. Ennis said nothing, straightened up slowly, rubbed at his forehead; a horse stamped inside the trailer. He walked to his truck, put his hand on the trailer, said something that only the horses could hear, turned and walked back at a deliberate pace.“You been a Mexico, Jack?” Mexico was the
Saturday, January 3, 2009
Jack Vettriano The Star Cafe
Jack Vettriano The Star CafeJack Vettriano The Sparrow and the HawkJack Vettriano The Smooth Operator
his shoulders hung silk scarves that were just like flames when he waved them with his long arms; and his hair stood up on his head in straight, flaring locks. He started flinging out his arms and legs and jumping round the room like a madman.
Tyltyl, though feeling a fell to her feet, might have been made of sea-weed. She had nothing on but her bed-gown; but the water that streamed over her clothed her in shimmering colours. She hesitated at first and gave a glance around her; then, catching sight of Fire still whirling about like a great madcap, she made an angry and indignant rush at him, spraying his face, splashing and wetting him with all her might. Fire flew into a rage and began to smoke. Nevertheless, as he found himself suddenly thwarted by his hereditary enemy, he thought it wiser to retire to a corner. Water also beat a retreat; and it seemed as though peace would be restored once more.
The two Children, at last recovering from their alarm, were asking the Fairy what little easier, dared not yet leave his refuge. Then the Fairy Bérylune had a capital idea: she pointed her wand at the tap; and at once there appeared a young girl who wept like a regular fountain. It was Water. She was very pretty, but she looked extremely sad; and she sang so sweetly that it was like the rippling of a spring. Her long hair, which
his shoulders hung silk scarves that were just like flames when he waved them with his long arms; and his hair stood up on his head in straight, flaring locks. He started flinging out his arms and legs and jumping round the room like a madman.
Tyltyl, though feeling a fell to her feet, might have been made of sea-weed. She had nothing on but her bed-gown; but the water that streamed over her clothed her in shimmering colours. She hesitated at first and gave a glance around her; then, catching sight of Fire still whirling about like a great madcap, she made an angry and indignant rush at him, spraying his face, splashing and wetting him with all her might. Fire flew into a rage and began to smoke. Nevertheless, as he found himself suddenly thwarted by his hereditary enemy, he thought it wiser to retire to a corner. Water also beat a retreat; and it seemed as though peace would be restored once more.
The two Children, at last recovering from their alarm, were asking the Fairy what little easier, dared not yet leave his refuge. Then the Fairy Bérylune had a capital idea: she pointed her wand at the tap; and at once there appeared a young girl who wept like a regular fountain. It was Water. She was very pretty, but she looked extremely sad; and she sang so sweetly that it was like the rippling of a spring. Her long hair, which
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