Gustav Klimt The Kiss (Le Baiser _ Il Baccio) painting

Gustav Klimt The Kiss (Le Baiser _ Il Baccio) paintingGustav Klimt Sea Serpents paintingVincent van Gogh Self Portrait painting
could, in return for his advice on the matter of my alleged infirmity, he admitted that the idea was too entertaining to resist, therapeutic or not.
"It's five o'clock anyhow," he said; "I'll send for an orderly to take the patients back to their wards." He proposed further, in an offhand tone, that I join his wife and Anastasia in the Treatment Room while he shared the observation-chamber with Greene, the better to interpret for him what he saw and translate his reaction into therapy. It wanted no great sophistication to discern something more in this suggestion than disinterested goodwill: so much the better, I decided, for Greene's education in the ways of the campus. As for me, inhibition in matters erotic was one infirmity, at least, which kidship had spared me: though my experience was small, shame and shyness , I strode therefore unabashedly into the Treatment Room, bid the ladies a very good evening, and inquired of Anastasia, not without irony, whether I could assist in any wise her charitable

Thomas Kinkade Mountain Memories painting

Thomas Kinkade Mountain Memories paintingThomas Kinkade Footprints in the sand paintingThomas Kinkade Christmas Cottage painting
declared I was joking, but reclosed the sidecar door for a moment; those outside shifted about and consulted their wristwatches.
"It's like Stoker, or the Dean o' Flunks, or a terrible disease," I argued; "if you do B with these things, they always win.Extreme in the mean is what you've got to be, and not compromise even for a second with Flunkage, or let opposites get confused. An arch won't do between True and False; they've got to be cut with an edge as sharp as the Infinite Divisor, and separated."
The Chancellor shook his head as I spoke, but his smile was grave, and he seemed after all to be listening, so I quickly enlarged upon my theme. To make concessions to the forces of Failure, I said -- to this Classmate X fellow or to Stoker -- was like conceding to malevolent bacteria: one might approve moderate exercise over athleticism, but not moderate illness over health. And the health of a, it seemed evident to me, like the of an orderly and passèd administration, came not from cooperation with its antithesis, but from real repudiation of it. The spirit and letter of Rexfordian law was

Edward Hopper Sunday painting

Edward Hopper Sunday paintingEdward Hopper Morning Sun paintingAmedeo Modigliani Reclining Nude painting
Hector winked and licked his lips. "I helped myself, like everybody else! Stoker says he gets a commission on her;Iused to get her whole price!"
Repellent as I found this remark, and its maker, I was skeptical of its truth. For one thing, Anastasia had confessed worse things unabashedly in George's Gorge, but had made no mention of fees and commissions. For another, I observed that Ira Hector could not speak painlessly of her connection with Maurice Stoker: his neck-cords flexed at the man's name, and his voice shelled over.
"Youpity her!" I accused him. "You pitied her mother, too, and your own brother when you were kids."
"Rot!"
"And all those unwed co-eds! I think you pityeverybody, and you're ashamed to say so!"
Now his eyes gleamed. "I pity you, you nincompoop!"
"I bet you did with Bray for the same reason Anastasia did," I said. "Out of charity! You taught her to be the way she is!"
"Charity be flunked!" Ira hollered. "Every man for himself!"
It occurred to me to argue, then, more out of spite than out of conviction, that even his vaunted miserliness might be passèd, and its opposite flunked. Enos Enoch

William Bouguereau Love Takes Flight painting

William Bouguereau Love Takes Flight painting
Bill Brauer The Gold Dress painting
Unknown Artist Pink Floyd Back Catalogue painting
benevolent motives. It had been decided in the interest of NTC to acknowledge him officially (that is, to acknowledge WESCAC's acknowledgment of him) and give him Cabinet status; some professor-generals worried that WESCAC's AIM might no longer be protecting its Belly from intruders as formerly -- but who wanted to test it? -- while others feared Bray might "pull some pacifist trick," Grand Tutor or not. Most, though, had been reassured by his pledge to render unto Remus that which was Remus's, and unto the Founderetc.
"Nowyou claim to be a Grand Tutor too, and got through the Turnstile somehow, and you tell me Bray's a fake!" It made no difference to him personally one way or the other, Rexford declared; his was to run the College and do what he could to strengthen the West-Campus academic complex. To these ends he thought it most prudent to acknowledge my claim to Candidacy, not to shake the public's faith in WESCAC; should I manage somehow to pass through Scrapegoat Grate (which had never been

Vincent van Gogh The Church in Auvers painting

Vincent van Gogh The Church in Auvers paintingVincent van Gogh Lane with Poplars paintingGeorge Frederick Watts Orpheus and Eurydice detail painting
'Overcome by vengefulness,' he said he was, as soon as he realized who the man was. Most normal human thing he ever did, I told him myself! Now, of course, he's gone Moishian again -- says he wants to pay his debt to studentdom, all that rot."question!" Stoker scoffed. "Herm was my aide, you know -- the rascal I sent to catch up with Max the night of your visit." He'd been aware, he said, that the man was an ex-Bonifacist -- no doubt others of his staff were also; he didn't know or care about their ID-cards or histories as long as they did their work -- but he'd not known it was Herman Hermann himself whom
"They'll never convict him," Greene said stoutly. "Begging Mr. Stoker's pardon, the man's a hero if you ask me."
Stoker grinned. I vowed I would believe nothing except from Max's own lips. But the story of his surrender

Unknown Artist Persian woman pouring wine painting

Unknown Artist Persian woman pouring wine paintingAlbert Moore Shells paintingAlbert Moore Midsummer painting
TALIPED: To pot, you say?

COMMITTEE CHAIRMAN: Quite utterly to pot.
Shall I say more?
COMMITTEE CHAIRMAN:Agronomy reports that there will be
another field-crop failure --rusts and blight.
Item:Dairy Research declares we might
lose half our stock to hoof-and-mouth disease. . .

I clutched Max's arm. "That's terrible!"
"Oh well," sighed Dr. Sear, "at least the tickets didn't cost us anything."

COMMITTEE CHAIRMAN:That means we'll lack for beef and milk and cheese.

TALIPED:/ knowwhat it means!

COMMITTEE CHAIRMAN: It means, sir, that we'll
TALIPED: I know you will. But not
in post-Philippics. Lay it on the line.

COMMITTEE CHAIRMAN: [Reads from last page of report]
Item:our fruits are dying on the vine --

TALIPED: So's the Department of Plant Pathology.

Camille Pissarro Still Life with Apples and Pitcher painting

Camille Pissarro Still Life with Apples and Pitcher paintingEdward Hopper Two on the Aisle paintingEdward Hopper Bridle Path painting the ancient rites, at least in the eyes of the Enochist Fraternity, who held that only a return to the teachings of the New Syllabus could save the University from self-destruction, and studentdom from final Failure. Many non-Enochists, though they found that particular Answer unacceptable, agreed on the seriousness of the problem, and remembering the Spielman Proviso in each quadrangle -- generally the winners of athletic competitions held in conjunction with the Carnival -- to fling themselves against the Turnstile, bleating in what they took to be goatly while the new registrants and spectators cheered them on and a figure dressed to represent the Dean o' Flunks endeavored to block their way. When all the athletes had failed they were garlanded with lilies by Miss University and by her symbolically driven from the WESCAC's Menu-program, called for a new Grand Tutor to change the AIM and give to contemporary West-Campus culture a fresh direction, a Revised New Syllabus, as Enos Enoch

Gustav Klimt Danae (detail) painting

Gustav Klimt Danae (detail) paintingSalvador Dali The Rose paintingSalvador Dali The Persistence of Memory painting
Greene blinked proudly. "First we thought ofSmokescreens for Security, but when we played that on the old kazoo it sounded like we were hiding something, you know?Flames of Free Research looked big for a while too, very big, but finally we decided it would give us a black eye imagewise -- cross up the Keep-Our-Forests-Greene bit, I mean." That latter slogan, he acknowledged, was his own, and all boasting aside, he deemed it punwisely so felicitous a merger of the Conservation and Private-Research bits that upon devising it he'd dismissed his entire staff ofconsultants -- "Sent the whole team to the showers" -- and taken the field himself in his own behalf: on behalf, that is, of Greene Timber and Plastics, of which concern he was Board Chairman. Indeed, when treading musewise on the heels ofKeep Our Forests Greene cameSignal-Fires of Freedom -- with its suggestion at once of non-destructive vigil, of summons to a common cause, and of the red-skinned preschoolists who first inhabited the NTC campus -- he had devoted less time every year to his manufacturing interests and more to promotion and packaging: the locomotive and caboose, raison-d'êtrewise, of his train of thought.

Andrew Atroshenko Just for Love painting

Andrew Atroshenko Just for Love paintingEdward Hopper Sunday paintingEdward Hopper Morning Sun painting
breath-catch clip. I was amazed by the noise and speed: I clutched at the handrail and Anastasia's shoulder; my head jerked back, and I gasped for some moments against the rush of air.
"Not sofast!" Anastasia fretted.
I shook my head. "It's all right."
Stoker's teeth flashed through his whiskers. "Okay, hey, George?"
"I think. . . I like it."
"Hooray!" Stoker let go the handlebars to shake hands with himself; Anastasia squealed and admonished him to drive more carefully. In truth he delighted in recklessness, as did his fellows: we were less a procession than a freestyle race, which Stoker led not by virtue of his rank but by speed and daring. When someone threatened to overtake us Stoker would block his way and make as if to force him into ditch or embankment; inevitably the challenger yielded with exuberant curses. Any turn in the road, however blind or precipitous, inspired him to more speed rather than less: he would bid us lean right or left as he instructed and skid full tilt into the curve, sometimes lifting the sidecar off the pavement. A signpost or streetlight picked up by our headlamp (there were not many) became

Fabian Perez Man in Black Suit painting

Fabian Perez Man in Black Suit paintingFabian Perez Lucy paintingFabian Perez Flamenco painting
should be ashamed of himself for such fibs, and Maurice for leading him on. Uncle Ira was furious, but Maurice just laughed and said 'What abouther? Does she let you watch when the boys -- [I can't say it; you know what I mean]?' Uncle Ira turned white -- I did too! -- but then he seemed to get hold of himself, and he said, 'Stacey, this man is a wicked liar who'll say anything that suits his purpose; but he also knows every flunkèd thing there is to know about people that they wish nobody knew of. So when he says you've been letting all those boys [you-know-what], he might be lying or he might not. I want you to tell me the plain truth now,' he said: 'if he's lying I'll throw him out, and Lucky Rexford can do his flunkèdest to break me to pieces. But if he's telling the truth, I'm going to thrash you like no co-ed on this campus was ever thrashed!'
"It seemed to me Maurice got worried when Uncle Ira said that, because he said, 'What do youexpect her to do when you put it that way? You're begging her to lie

Edward Hopper Ground Swell painting

Edward Hopper Ground Swell paintingEdgar Degas Woman Combing Her Hair paintingFrederic Edwin Church Autumn painting
knew?) with Lady Creamhair. That possibility was clearly beside the point; whatever experiments he had performed were for my own enlightenment and benefit, and had achieved their purpose. A Grand Tutor was very wise; a Grand Tutor was very good. Whatever the mysteries and portents of my birth, whatever formal prerequisites to Herohood I might coincidentally have met, I could not call myself very wise nor very good. Chastened, I took the conclusion to my heart, merely asking leave for the day's instruction to get used to the feel of it there.
What remained of the morning I spent introspecting about the pasture, deaf to G. Herrold's plea to wrestle in the cool March sun; after lunch I retired to the hemlocks with pencil and paper, thinking to map out as it were the road before me by noting down the few clear signposts I had passed. Perched on a high stump I began withNEITHER WISE NOR GOOD , which I printed out in fair block capitals at the page-top. But when I considered inscribing beneath itPASS ALL FAIL ALL and the MaximSELF-KNOWLEDGE IS ALWAYS BAD NEWS , I could not at once decide which merited second place, and, unable to

Joseph Mallord William Turner Rainbow painting

Joseph Mallord William Turner Rainbow paintingJoseph Mallord William Turner Fishermen at Sea paintingJohn Singer Sargent Venetian Canal painting
One day -- when we need him again." How I should have liked to sleep.
His smile returned, albeit melancholily. "We need him now. Things are worse than they ever were in his day. But he's -- on a sort of sabbatical leave, you might say. It's up to us to carry on."
He pressed upon me then his story, which I heard in my torpor and made this sense of only on later recollection: His father was or had been some sort ofprofessor extraordinarius (of what subject I never learned) whose reputation rested on his success in preparing students to pass their final examinations. His pedagogical method had been unorthodox, and so like many radicals he had worked against vehement opposition, even actual persecutions: I gathered his tenure was revoked and he was dismissed from his position on a charge of moral turpitude while still in his early thirties -- though it was not clear to me whether he had ever held official rank in his faculty. Neither was it plain what had happened to him afterwards: apparently he'd left the campus for a short time, returned

Winslow Homer The Red Canoe painting

Winslow Homer The Red Canoe paintingDaniel Ridgway Knight Daniel Ridgway Knight painting
something that was as fleeting and as incommunicable, in its beauty, as that one bar of music he remembered, or those lovely little girls with their ever joyful, ever sprightly dance on some far and fantastic lawn—serenity, a quality of repose—he could not call it by name, but only knew that, somehow, it had always escaped him. As he sat there, with the hunger growing and blossoming within him, he felt that he had hardly ever known a time in his life when he was not marching or sick with loneliness or afraid.
And so, he thought, they had all had it, in their various fashions. The Colonel had had his march and his victory, and Culver could not say still why he was unable to hate him. Perhaps it was only because he was a different kind of man, different enough that he was hardly a man at all, but just a quantity of attitudes so remote from Culver's world that to hate him would be like hating a cannibal, merely because

Albert Bierstadt Yosemite Valley Yellowstone Park painting

Albert Bierstadt Yosemite Valley Yellowstone Park paintingAlbert Bierstadt Sacramento River Valley painting
heard the Colonel go on coolly: "Not with that foot you aren't." He glanced down. The Captain's ankle had swollen to a fat milky purple above the top of his shoe; he was unable to touch his heel to the ground even if he had wanted to. "Not with that foot," he repeated.
Mannix was silent, panting deeply—not as if taken aback at all, but only as if gathering wind for an outburst. He and the Colonel gazed at each other, twin profiles embattled against an escarpment of pines, the chaste blue sky of morning. "Listen, Colonel," he rasped, "you ordered this goddam hike and I'm going to walk it even if I haven't got one goddam man left. You can crap out yourself for half the march—" Culver wanted desperately, somehow, by any means to stop him— not just because he was pulling catastrophe down on his head but because it was simply no longer worth the effort. Couldn't he see? That the Colonel didn't care and that was that? That with him the hike had had nothing to do with courage or sacrifice or

Unknown Artist Heighton After Hours painting

Unknown Artist Heighton After Hours paintingUnknown Artist Brent Lynch Evening Lounge painting
is that, and 'P' means 'Pooh,' so it's a very important Missage to me, and I can't read it. I must find Christopher Robin or Owl or Piglet, one of those Clever Readers who can read things, and they will tell me what this missage means. Only I can't swim. Bother!" Then he had an idea, and I think that for a Bear of Very Little Brain, it was a good idea. He said to himself: "If a bottle can float, then a jar can float, and if a jar floats, I can sit on the top of it, if it's a very big jar." So he took his biggest jar, and corked it up. "All boats have to have a name," he said, "so I shall call mine The Floating Bear." And with these words he dropped his boat into the water and jumped in after it. For a little while Pooh and The Floating Bear were uncertain as to which of them was meant to be on the top, but after trying one or two different positions, they settled down with The Floating Bear underneath and Pooh triumphantly astride it, paddling vigorously with

Steve Hanks Where the Grass is Greener painting

Steve Hanks Where the Grass is Greener paintingSteve Hanks Sunshine After the Rain paintingSteve Hanks Country Comfort painting
about this and that, and Piglet said, "If you see what I mean, Pooh," and Pooh said, "It's just what I think myself, Piglet," and Piglet said, "But, on the other hand, Pooh, we must remember," and Pooh said, "Quite true, Piglet, although I had forgotten it for the moment." And thesaid nothing. The fact was Piglet was wishing that he had thought about it first. "I shall do it," said Pooh, after waiting a little longer, "by means of a trap. And it must be a Cunning Trap, so you will have to help me, Piglet." "Pooh," said Piglet, feeling quite happy again now, "I will." And then he said, "How shall we do it?" and Pooh said, "That's just it. How?" And then they sat down together to think it out. n, just as they came to the Six Pine Trees, Pooh looked round to see that nobody else was listening, and said in a very solemn voice: "Piglet, I have decided something.' "What have you decided, Pooh?" "I have decided to catch a Heffalump." Pooh nodded his head several times as he said this, and waited for Piglet to say "How?" or "Pooh, you couldn't!" or something helpful of that sort, but

Alphonse Maria Mucha Gismonda painting

Alphonse Maria Mucha Gismonda paintingAlphonse Maria Mucha Dance paintingMichelangelo Buonarroti Crucifix painting
'If you were a lord, you should be my lord, And the same if you were a thief,' said she. 'And if you are a harper, you shall be my harper, For it makes no matter to me, to me, For it makes no matter to me.'
" 'But what if it prove that I am no harper? That I lied for your love most monstrously?' 'Why, then I'll teach you to play and sing, For I dearly love a good harp,' said she."Winie-the-Pooh has always been one of our favourite characters providing insperation and and good mood bits every now and then. So we thought that why not make a Web version of the famous book. Ah yes, copyrights. So we just hope that you all like Winnie-The-Pooh as much as we do, and will not complain about the legal stuff but rather enjoy theSoon, we hope very soon, we will have also some other Pooh resourses available as well. Most other - does anyone know if the Russian version of the book exsists in Thanx and have fun!

To her Hand in hand we come Christopher Robin and I To lay this book in your lap. Say you're surprised? Say it's just what you wanted? Because it's yours - because we love the A.A.Milne book and soon the Part II as well.

Vincent van Gogh The Bedroom painting

Vincent van Gogh The Bedroom paintingVincent van Gogh Reaper paintingEdmund Blair Leighton Lady in a Garden painting
wanted her to touch me, but I could not let her. No cat will. We let human beings caress us because it is pleasant enough and calms them — but not her. The price is more than a cat can pay."
Molly picked him up then, and he purred into her neck for such a long while that she began to fear that his moment of speech had passed. But presently he said, "You have very little time. Soon she will no longer remember who she is, or why she came to this place, and the Red Bull will no longer roar in the night for her. It may be that she will marry the good prince, who loves her." The cat pushed his head hard into Molly's suddenly still hand. "Do that," he commanded. "The prince is very brave, to love a unicorn. A cat can appreciate valiant absurdity."
"No," Molly Grue said. "No, that cannot be. She is the last."
"Well then, she must do what she came to do," the cat replied. "She must take the king's way down to the Bull."
Molly held him so fiercely that he gave a mouselike squeak of protest

Frida Kahlo Me and My Doll painting

Frida Kahlo Me and My Doll paintingFrida Kahlo Luther Burbank paintingFrida Kahlo Girl with Death Mask painting
TOWN of Hagsgate was shaped like a footprint: long toes splaying from a broad paw and ending in the dark claws of a digger. And indeed, where the other towns of King Haggard's realm seemed to scratch like sparrows at the mean land, Hagsgate was well and deeply dug in. Its streets were smoothly paved, its gardens glowed, and its proud houses might have grown up out of the earth, like trees. Lights shone in every window, and the three travelers could hear voices, and dogs barking, and dishes being scrubbed until they squeaked. They halted by a high hedge, wondering.
"Do you suppose we took a wrong turn somewhere, and this isn't Hagsgate at all?" Molly whispered. She brushed foolishly at her hopeless rags and tatters. "I knew I should have brought my good dress." She sighed.
Schmendrick rubbed the back of his

Pierre Auguste Renoir Sleeping Bather painting

Pierre Auguste Renoir Sleeping Bather paintingPierre Auguste Renoir Seating Girl paintingPierre Auguste Renoir By the Water painting
When he could rise she turned away, and the magician followed her, wary of the oak, though it was once again as still as any tree that had never loved. The sky was still black, but it was a watery darkness through which Schmendrick could see the violet dawn swimming. Hard silver clouds were melting as the sky grew warm; shadows dulled, sounds lost their shape, and shapes had not yet decided what they were going to be that day. Even the wind wondered about itself.
"Did you see me?" he asked the unicorn. "Were you watching, did you see what I made?"
"Yes," she answered. "It was true magic."
The loss came back, cold and bitter as a sword. "It's gone now," he said. "I had it—it had me—but it's gone now. I couldn't hold it." The unicorn floated on before him, silent as a feather.
Close by, a familiar voice said, "Leaving us so early, magician? The men will be sorry they missed you." He turned and saw Molly Grue leaning against a tree. Dress and dirty hair tattered alike, bare feet bleeding and beslimed, she gave him a bat's grin. "Surprise," she said. "It's Maid Marian."

Lorenzo Lotto Portrait of a Gentleman painting

Lorenzo Lotto Portrait of a Gentleman paintingTitian Emperor Charles paintingFrancisco de Goya Teresa Sureda painting
shouldn't be here," he said to the unicorn. "The old woman warned me to stay away from you." He chuckled pleasantly. "She has mocked me from the day I joined her, but I have made her nervous all that time."
The unicorn hardly heard him. She turned and turned in her prison, her body shrinking from the touch of the iron bars all around her. No creature of man's "Tell me what you see," said the magician, as Mommy Fortuna had said it to him. "Look at your fellow legends and tell me what you see."
Rukh's iron voice came clanging through the wan afternoon. "Gatekeeper of the underworld. Three heads and a coat of vipers, as you can see. Last seen aboveground in the time of Hercules, who dragged him up under one arm. But we lured him to light again with promises of a . Cerberus. Look at those six cheated night loves cold iron, and while the unicorn could endure its presence, the murderous smell of it seemed to turn her bones to sand and her blood to rain. The bars of her cage must have had some sort of spell on them, for they never stopped whispering evilly to one another in clawed, pattering voices. The heavy lock giggled and whined like a mad monkey

Montague Dawson Evening Shadows painting

Montague Dawson Evening Shadows paintingJohn Singleton Copley The Death of Major Pierson paintingJohn Singleton Copley The Copley Family painting
, although each day she wished a little more that she had never left her forest.
Then one afternoon the butterfly wobbled out of a breeze and lit on the tip of her horn. He was velvet all over, dark and dusty, with golden spots on his wings, and he was as thin as a flower petal. Dancing along her horn, he saluted her with his curling feelers. "I am a rovinDeath takes what man would keep," said the butterfly, "and leaves what man would lose. Blow, wind, and crack your cheeks. I warm my hands before
"Do you know what I am, butterfly?" the unicorn asked hopefully, and he replied, "Excellent well, you're a fishmonger. You're my everything, you are my sunshine, you are old and gray and full of sleep, you're my pickle-face, consumptive Mary Jane." He paused, fluttering g gambler. How do you do?"
The unicorn laughed for the first time in her travels. "But-
terfly, what are you doing out on such a windy day?" she asked him. "You'll take cold and die long before your time."

Thomas Kinkade The Light of Freedom painting

Thomas Kinkade The Light of Freedom paintingThomas Kinkade The Hour of Prayer paintingThomas Kinkade The Good Life painting
foundations—the cracked and sunken tracts of pavement that are now the silted bottoms of shallow lakes—the immense chemical deserts where nothing grows except a thin, purplish bloom of bacteria on poisonous water seeps.
But then, it's not certain that anything has a name in Nna Mmoy.
Laure has spent more time in utopia" than most people. I asked him to write me anything he wanted about it. He sent the following letter:

YOU ASKED ABOUT THE LANGUAGE. You've described the problem well, I think. It might help to think of it this way:
We talk snake. A snake can go any direction but only one direction at one time, following its head.
They talk starfish. A starfish doesn't go anywhere much. It has no head. It keeps more choices handy, even if it doesn't use them.

Claude Monet Monet's Garden at argenteuil painting

Claude Monet Monet's Garden at argenteuil paintingGeorges Seurat The Models paintingVincent van Gogh Village at Sunset painting
blessed with a marvelous climate and a vegetation so rich that lunch or dinner there consists of reaching up to a tree to pluck a succulent, sun-warmed, ripe, rare steakfruit, or sitting down under a llumbush and letting the buttery morsels drop onto one's lap or straight into one's mouth. And then for dessert there are the sorbice blossoms, tart, sweet, and crunchy.
Four or five centuries ago the Hegnish were evidently an enterprising, stirring lot, who built good roads, fine cities, noble country houses and palaces, all surrounded by literally delicious. Then they entered a settling-down phase, and at present they simply live in their beautiful houses. They have hobbies, pursued with tranquil obsession. Some take up the cultivation and breeding of ever finer varieties of grape. (The Hegnian grape is self-fermenting; a small cluster of them has the taste, scent, and effect of a split of Veuve Clicquot

Gustave Clarence Rodolphe Boulanger paintings

Gustave Clarence Rodolphe Boulanger paintings
Guillaume Seignac paintings
George Owen Wynne Apperley paintings
husband both feed her with tender care, and though Shuku's mother comes to stay and feeds the little one from her own beak and rocks her endlessly when she cries, still she pines and weakens. One morning lying in her grandmother's arms the infant twists and gasps for breath, and then is still. The grandmother weeps bitterly, remembering Shuku's baby brother, who did not live even this long, and tries to comfort Shuku. The baby's father digs a small grave out back of the new house, among the budding trees of the long springtime, and the tears fall from his eyes as he digs. But the other baby, the big girl, Kikirri, chirps and clacks and eats and thrives.
About the time Kikirri is hauling herself upright and shouting "Da!" at her father and "Ma!" at her mother and grandmother and "No!" when told to stop what she is doing, Shuku has another baby. Like many second conceptions, it is a singleton. A fine boy, small, but greedy. He grows fast.
He will be the last of Shuku's children. She

Fabian Perez white and red painting

Fabian Perez white and red paintingFabian Perez Venice paintingFabian Perez Tango painting
that gives her a kind of satisfaction, and that is why the orgasm seems beneficial to her, and her physician seeing the benefit endorses the act. But the same woman could be better satisfied in the non-orgasmal embrace of perfect and prolonged Karezza, and then the orgasm would be seen to be needless - that is my position.
My objections to the female orgasm in conception are as follows:
When a woman has an orgasm she has a discharge of vital-force and is left demagnetized, as a man is after an orgasm. I believe she demagnetizes the germ in so doing
p. 57
and that in this state it is less fit for impregnation than if there had been no orgasm - but this may be mere theory.
I believe, too, that the ideal way in the procreative embrace is for the man to waive all attempt at pleasure or to prolong the embrace, but to have his orgasm as quickly and forcefully as possible

Frederic Remington The Cowboy painting

Frederic Remington The Cowboy paintingFrederic Remington Against the Sunset paintingThomas Kinkade venice painting
parties become exalted by an enthusiasm approaching ecstasy, a feeling of glorious power and perfect safety no words can adequately describe. And this, I insist, depends mainly on the woman.
Under such conditions of realized power and ability almost any movements, on either side, are possible, provided they are ordinary, expected, and carrying a sort of rhythm. Remember that Karezza is, in its way, a form of the dance. But no movement should be too often repeated without a break. Change is in every way pleasing and desirable. Steady repetition excites to the orgasm, or tires, satiates, chafes or bruises. No movement at any time should be jerky or unexpectedly sudden. Lawless, nervous, unregulated flouncings and wrigglings should be barred as from a waltz. They properly belong to epileptic states of
p. 36
the orgasmal embrace, and for that very reason have no place in Karezza, which is the opposite. There should be often, long, tender, restful pauses - alternations of "storm and peace," as one

Pierre Auguste Renoir The Large Bathers painting

Pierre Auguste Renoir The Large Bathers paintingPierre Auguste Renoir A Girl with a Watering Can paintingPierre Auguste Renoir The Boating Party Lunch painting
said no!' shouted the brutal-faced man; there was a flash of light and the werewolf was blasted out of the way; he hit the ramparts and staggered, looking furious. Harry's heart was hammering so hard it seemed impossible that nobody could hear him standing there, imprisoned by Dumbledore's spell -if he could only move, he could aim a curse from under the Cloak -
'Draco, do it, or stand aside so one of us -' screeched the woman, but at that precise moment the door to the ramparts burst open once more and there stood Snape, his wand clutched in his hand as his black eyes swept the scene, from Dumbledore slumped against the wall, to the four Death Eaters, including the enraged werewolf, and Malfoy.
'We've got a problem, Snape,' said the lumpy Amycus, whose eyes and wand were fixed alike upon Dumbledore, 'the boy doesn't seem able -'
But somebody else had spoken Snape's name, quite softly.

Vincent van Gogh The Bedroom painting

Vincent van Gogh The Bedroom paintingVincent van Gogh Reaper paintingEdmund Blair Leighton Lady in a Garden painting
There is little time, one way or another,' said Dumbledore. 'So let us discuss your options, Draco.'
'My options!' said Malfoy loudly. 'I'm standing here with a wand - I'm about to kill you -'
'My dear boy, let us have no more pretence about that. If you were going to kill me, you would have done it when you first Disarmed me, you would not have stopped for this pleasant chat about ways and means.'
'I haven't got any options!' said Malfoy, and he was sud- denly as white as Dumbledore. 'I've got to do it! He'll kill me! He'll kill my whole family!'
'I appreciate the difficulty of your position,' said Dumbledore. 'Why else do you think I have not confronted you before now? Because I knew that you would have been murdered if Lord Voldemort realised that I suspected you.'
Malfoy winced at the sound of the name.

Sir Lawrence Alma-Tadema A Favorite Custom painting

Sir Lawrence Alma-Tadema A Favorite Custom paintingGarmash Sleeping Beauty painting
'Nor am I,' said Harry quickly.
'But he healed all right, didn't he? Back on his feet in no time.'
'Yeah,' said Harry; this was perfectly true, although his con-science squirmed slightly all the same. Thanks to Snape ...'
'You still got detention with Snape this Saturday?' Ron continued.
'Yeah, and the Saturday after that, and the Saturday after that,' sighed Harry. 'And he's hinting now that if I don't get all the boxes done by the end of term, we'll carry on next year.'
He was finding these detentions particularly irksome because they cut into the already limited time he could have been spending with Ginny. Indeed, he had frequently won-dered lately whether Snape did not know this, for he was keeping Harry later and later every time, while making pointed asides about Harry having to miss the good weather and the varied opportunities it offered.
Harry was shaken from these bitter reflections by the appearance at his side of Jimmy Peakes, who was holding out a scroll of parchment.

Frida Kahlo My Dress Hangs There painting

Frida Kahlo My Dress Hangs There paintingFrida Kahlo Fruits of the Earth painting
There, there," said Slughorn, waving his wand so that the huge pile of earth rose up and then fell, with a muffled sort of crash, onto the dead spider, forming a smooth mound. "Lets get inside and have a drink. Get on his other side, Harry. . . . That's it. ... Up you come, Hagrid . . . Well done ..."
They deposited Hagrid in a chair at the table. Fang, who had been skulking in his basket during the burial, now came padding softly across to them and put his heavy head into Harry's lap as usual. Slughorn uncorked one of the bottles of wine he had brought.
"I have had it all tested for poison," he assured Harry, pouring most of the first bottle into one of Hagrid's bucket-sized mugs and handing it to Hagrid. "Had a house-elf taste every bottle after what happened to your poor friend Rupert."
Harry saw, in his mind's eye, the expression on Hermione's face if she ever heard about this abuse of houseelves, and decided never to mention it to her.

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Gustav Klimt Beethoven Frieze paintingGustav Klimt Apple Tree II painting
Silence fell between them. Harry stared up at the circle of lamp light above him, thinking. . . .
If only he had Rufus Scrimgeour's power, he would have been able to set a tail upon Malfoy, but unfortunately Harry did not have an office full of Aurors at his command. . . . He thought fleetingly of trying to set something up with the D.A., but there again was the problem that people would be missed from lessons; most of them, after all, still had full schedules. . . .
There was a low, rumbling snore from Ron's bed. After a while Madam Pomfrey came out of her office, this time wearing a thick dressing gown. It was easiest to feign sleep; Harry rolled over onto his side and listened to all the curtains closing themselves as she waved her wand. The lamps dimmed, and she returned to her office; he heard the door click behind her and knew that she was off to bed.

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Thomas Kinkade Evening Glow paintingThomas Kinkade CHRISTMAS MEMORIES painting
Harry dawdled behind, taking an inordinate amount of time to do up his bag. Neither Ron nor Hermione wished him luck as they left; both looked rather annoyed. At last Harry and Slughorn were the only two left in the room.
'Come on, now, Harry, you'll be late for your next lesson,' said Slughorn affably, snapping the gold clasps shut on his dragonskin briefcase.
'Sir,' said Harry, reminding himself irresistibly of Voldemort, '1 wanted to ask you something.'
'Ask away, then, my dear boy, ask away ..."
'Sir, 1 wondered what you know about ... about Horcruxes?'
Slughorn froze. His round face seemed to sink in upon itself. He licked his lips and said hoarsely, 'What did you say?' 'I asked whether you know anything about Horcruxes, sir. You see -'

Salvador Dali Leda Atomica painting

Salvador Dali Leda Atomica paintingSalvador Dali Barcelona Mannequin painting
mind, before she ran off. , Where's the locket, eh, where's Slytherin's locket?"
Voldemort did not answer. Morfin was working himself into a rage again; he brandished his knife and shouted, "Dishonored us, , she did, that little slut! And whore you, coming here and asking questions about all that? It's over, innit. . . . It's over. ..."
He looked away, staggering slightly, and Voldemort moved forward. As he did so, an unnatural darkness fell, extinguishing Voldemort's lamp and Morfin's candle, extinguishing everything. . . . Dumbledore's fingers closed tightly around Harry's arm and they were soaring back into the present again. The soft golden light in Dumbledore's office seemed to dazzle Harry's eyes after that impenetrable darkness.
"Is that all?" said Harry at once. "Why did it go dark, what happened?"

Ford Madox Brown Work painting

Ford Madox Brown Work paintingFord Madox Brown Romeo and Juliet paintingTheodore Robinson Girl at Piano painting
accompanied by what sounded like mandolins issued from a distant corner; a haze of pipe smoke hung over several elderly warlocks deep in conversation, and a number of house-elves were negotiating their way squeakily through the forest of knees, obscured by the heavy silver platters of food they were bearing, so that they looked like little roving tables.
"Harry, m'boy!" boomed Slughorn, almost as soon as Harry and Luna had squeezed in through the door. "Come in, come in, so many people I'd like you to meet!"
Slughorn was wearing a tasseled velvet hat to match his smoking jacket. Gripping Harry's arm so tightly he might have been hoping to Disapparate with him, Slughorn led him purposefully into the party; Harry seized Luna's hand and dragged her along with him.

Theodore Robinson World's Columbian Exposition painting

Theodore Robinson World's Columbian Exposition paintingMary Cassatt Children on the Shore painting
saw it there. And Borgin just told me the price, he didn't say it was already sold or anything —"
"Well, you were being really obvious, he realized what you were up to within about five seconds, of course he wasn't going to tell you — anyway, Malfoy could've sent off for it since —"
"That's enough!" said Professor McGonagall, as Hermione opened her mouth to retort, looking furious. "Potter, I appreciate you telling me this, but we cannot point the finger of blame at Mr. Malfoy purely because he visited the shop where this necklace might have been purchased. The same is probably true of hundreds of people —"
"— that's what I said —" muttered Ron.
"— and in any case, we have put stringent security measures in place this year. I do not believe that necklace can possibly have entered this school without our knowledge —"
"But —"