Edgar Degas Rehearsal on the Stage

Edgar Degas Rehearsal on the StageEdgar Degas Woman Combing Her HairFrederic Edwin Church The Andes of EcuadorFrederic Edwin Church Rainy Season in the Tropics
some reason the face of the Patrician loomed up at this point.
Once 'Where'd he go? Where'd he go?'
There was a maze of alleys around the doors. Cuddy leaned against a wall and fought for breath.
'There he go!' anyone else with any other kind of weapon . . .
So. A new type of weapon. Much, much faster than a bow. The Assassins wouldn't like that. They wouldn't like that at all. They weren't even keen on bows. The Assassins preferred to kill up close.
So they'd put the . . . the gonne safely under lock and key. The gods alone knew how they'd come by it in the first place. And a few senior Assassins would know about it. They'd pass on the secret: beware of things like this . . .

'Down there! He went into Grope Alley!'
'Slow down! Slow down!'
'Why?' said Detritus.shouted Detritus. 'Along Whalebone Lane!'He lumbered off in pursuit. Vimes put down his coffee cup.Whoever had shot those lead balls at him had been very accurate across several hundred yards, and had got off six shots faster than anyone could fire an arrow . . .Vimes picked up the pipes. Six little pipes, six shots. And you could carry a pocketful of these things. You could shoot further, faster, more accurately than

Henri Rousseau The Flamingos

Henri Rousseau The FlamingosHenri Rousseau The Equatorial JungleHenri Rousseau The Boat in the StormHenri Rousseau Surprise
trying to find out,' said Vimes. 'We . . . we think maybe he was tied up next to a wall and exploded.'
Carrot leaned over the wall of a pen.
'Coochee-coochee-coo?' he said. A friendly flame took his eyebrows off.
'I mean, he was as tame as anything,' said Lady Ramkin. 'Wouldn't hurt a fly, poor little thing.'
'How could someone make a dragon blow up?' said Vimes. 'Could you do it by giving it a kick?'
'Oh, yes,' said awake and rearing up. Its ears flattened. Its nostrils flared. Its wings unfurled. It breathed in. From its stomach came the gurgle of rushing acids as sluices and valves were opened. Its feet left the floor. Its chest expanded—
Vimes hit Carrot at waist height, bearing him to the ground.
In its pen the dragon blinked. The enemy had mysteriously gone. Scared off!
It subsided, blowing off a huge flame.Sybil. 'You'd lose your leg, mind you.''Then it wasn't that. Any other way? So you wouldn't get hurt?''Not really. It'd be easier to make it blow itself up. Really, Sam, I don't like talking about—''I have to know.''Well . . . at this time of year the males fight. Make themselves look big, you know? That's why I always keep them apart.'Vimes shook his head. 'There was only one dragon,' he said.Behind them, Carrot leaned over the next pen, where a pear-shaped male dragon opened one eye and glared at him.'Whosagoodboyden?' murmured Carrot. 'I'm sure I've got a bit of coal somewhere—'The dragon opened the other eye, blinked, and then was fully

John Constable The White Horse

John Constable The White HorseJohn Constable The Hay WainJohn Constable Salisbury CathedralJohn Constable Salisbury Cathedral from the Meadows
nurse told me,' said Viscount Skater, 'that a true king could pull a sword from a stone.'
'Hah, yes, and cure dandruff,' said Lord Rust. 'That's just a legend. That's not real Anyway, I've always been a bit puzzled about that story. What's so hard about pulling a sword out of a stone? The real work's already been done. You ought to make yourself useful and find the man who put the sword in the stone in the first place, eh?'
There was a sort of relieved laughter. That's what Edward remembered. It all ended up in laughter. Not exactly at him, but he was the type of person who always takes laughter personally.
Ten minutes 'They didn't want to listen.'
'No, sir.'
'They didn't want to l-isten.'
Edward sat by the dying fire, with a dog-eared copy of Thighbiter's The Ankh-Morpork Succesfion open on his lap. Dead kings and queens looked at him reproachfully.
And there it might have ended. In fact it did end there, in millions of universeslater, Edward d'Eath was alone.They're being so nice about it. Moving with the times! He'd expected more than that of them. A lot more. He'd dared to hope that they might be inspired by his lead. He'd pictured himself at the head of an army —Blenkin came in at a respectful shuffle.'I saw 'em all off, Mr Edward,' he said.'Thank you, Blenkin. You may clear the table.''Yes, Mr Edward.''Whatever happened to honour, Blenkin?''Dunno, sir. I never took it.'

Andy Warhol Guns

Andy Warhol GunsAndy Warhol Gun 1982Andy Warhol Dollar Sign 1981
something else. We . . . know about this place. It’s mythical.”
“It’s not real?”
“Oh, it’s real. And mythical.”
The torch flared. There were hundreds of dust-covered slabs ranged around the cavern in a spiral; at the center of the spiral was a huge bell, suspended from a rope that disap-peared into the darkness of the ceiling. Just under the hang-ing bell was one pile of silver coins and one pile of gold coins.
“Don’t touch the money,” said Nanny “’Ere, watch this, my dad told me about this, it’s a good trick.”
She reached out wynke of sleep for two hundred years, some sodde alwayes bangs the bell. Go awaye.”
The warrior lay back.
“It’s some old king and his warriors,” whispered Nanny, as they hurried away. “Some kind of magical sleep, I’m told. Some old wizard did it. They’re supposed to wake up for some final battle when a wolf eats the

Thomas Kinkade San Francisco Lombard Street

Thomas Kinkade San Francisco Lombard StreetThomas Kinkade Rose GateThomas Kinkade Paris City of Lights
Pratchett
magic sword if it bit them on the knee. That’s young wizards today. Think they bloody invented magic.”
“Yes? You should see the girls that want to be witches these days,” said Granny Weatherwax. “Velvet hats and black lipstick and can put in a box and it’s dead and alive at the same time. Or something. And they all run around saying marvellous, marvellous, hooray, here comes another quantum. Ask ‘em to do a decent levita-tion spell and they look at you as if you’ve started to dribble. You should hear young Stibbons talk. Went on about me not inviting me to my own wedding. Me!”
From the side of the gorge a kingfisher flashed, hit the water with barely a ripple, and ricocheted away with some-thing silver and wriggly in its beak.
“Kept going on about everything happening at the same time,” Ridcully went on morosely. “Like there’s no such thing as a choice. You just decide which leg you’re heading for. He says that we did get married, see. He says all the things lacy gloves with no fingers to ‘em. Cheeky, too.”They were side by side now, watching the river.“Trousers of Time,” said Ridcully. “One of you goes down one leg, one of you goes down the other. And there’s all these continuinuinuums all over the place. When I was a lad there was just one decent universe and this was it, and all you had to worry about was creatures breaking through from the Dungeon Dimensions, but at least there was this actual damn universe and you knew where you stood. Now it turns out there’s millions of the damn things. And there’s this damn cat they’ve discovered that you

Cao Yong KOI POND

Cao Yong KOI PONDCao Yong GIRL WITH MUSICIANCao Yong GARDEN SPLENDORCao Yong GARDEN BEAUTIES
desperately for a way into its head .. .
Something flashed past her vision.
A length of rope had caught the elfs neck, and went tight as something swished through the air. The creature stared in horror as a flatiron whirred a few feet away from its face and swung past its ear, winding around and around with increasing speed but a decreasing orbital radius until it connected heavily with the back of the elf’s head, lifting it off its feet and dropping it heavily on the turf.
Nanny Ogg appeared in Granny’s vision.
“Cor, it doesn’t half whiff, don’t it?” she said. “You can smell elves a mile off.”
Granny scrambled upright.
There was nothing “Hah! Her neck’d be favorite, then.”
Granny sat down with her chin on her knees. Her shoul-ders ached.
“Got to get me breath back,” she said.
Images swam in the forefront of her mind. Here it came but grass inside the circle. No snow, no elves.She turned to Diamanda. So did Nanny. The girl was lying unconscious.“Elf-shot,” said Granny.118LORDS ft/VQ iftQ/£6“Oh, bugger.”“The point’s still in there.”Nanny scratched her head.“I could probably get the point out, no problem,” she said, “but I don’t know about the poison ... we could tie a tourniquet around the affected part.”

Leroy Neiman Elephant Nocturne

Leroy Neiman Elephant NocturneLeroy Neiman Elephant FamilyLeroy Neiman Churchill DownsLeroy Neiman Chicago Key Club Bar
looked completely lost.
Nanny shrugged. She’d have to tell someone, sooner or later.
“The Lords and Ladies,” she said.
“Who’re they?”
Nanny looked around. But, after all, this was a forge. There had been a forge here long before there was a castle, long before there was even a kingdom. There were horse-shoes everywhere. Iron had entered the very walls. It wasn’t just a place of iron, it was a place where iron died and was reborn. If you couldn’t speak the words here, you couldn’t speak ‘The coachman shrugged.
“Take it or leave it,” he said.
“I’m sorry, sir,” said Ponder Stibbons. “It’s the only coach.”
“Fifty dollars each is daylight robbery!”em anywhere.Even so, she’d rather not.“You know,” she said. “The Fair Folk. The Gentry. The Shining Ones. The Star People. You know.”“What?”Nanny put her hand on the anvil, just in case, and said the word.Jason’s frown very gently cleared, at about the same speed as a sunrise.“Them?” he said. “But aren’t they nice and—?”‘”See?” said Nanny. “I told you you’d get it wrong!”53Terry Pratchett“How much?” said Ridcully.

Vincent van Gogh Couple in the Park,Arles

Vincent van Gogh Couple in the Park,ArlesLeonardo da Vinci Portrait of Ginevra de BenciLeonardo da Vinci Portrait Of A Young Lady
What comes out of the big long spout thing at the front?" said Brutha.
"Steam," said Urn dully. "It's connected to the safety valve."
"Oh."
"It comes out very hot," said Urn, sagging even more.
"Oh?"
"Scalding, in fact."
Brutha's gaze drifted from the steam funnel to the rotating knives.
"Very philosophical," he said.
"We were Stupid. I think I ought to join him."
I. Why?
"Gods and men, men and gods," said Brutha. "Evgoing to use it against Vorbis," said Urn."And now you're not. It's going to be used against Ephebians. You know, I used to think I was stupid, and then I met philosophers."Simony broke the silence by patting Brutha on the shoulder."It will all work out," he said. "We won't lose. After all," he smiled encouragingly, "we have God on our side."Brutha turned. His fist shot out. It wasn't a scientific blow, but it was hard enough to spin Simony around. He clutched his chin."What was that for? Isn't this what you wanted?""We get the gods we deserve," said Brutha, "and I think we don't deserve any. Stupid. Stupid. The sanest man I've met this year lives up a pole in the desert.erything happens because things have happened before. Stupid."
II. But You Are The Chosen One.
"Choose someone else."
Brutha strode off through the ragged army.

Gustav Klimt Fruit Trees

Gustav Klimt Fruit TreesGustav Klimt Death and LifeGustav Klimt Beethoven Frieze
Man who talk to God have difficult life."
"You're right!" Brutha stared at Lu-Tze over the cup. "Why are you here?" he said. "You're not Omnian. Or Ephebian."
"Grew up near "Ancient master say: `That boy there! What you eating? Hope you brought enough for everybody!' Ancient master say: `You bad boy! Why you no do homework?' Ancient master say: `What boy laughing? No tell what boy laughing, whole dojo stay in after school!' When remember these wise words, nothing seems so bad."
"What shall I do? I can't hear him!"
"You do what you must. I learn anything, it you have to walk it all alone."
Brutha hugged his knees.Hub. Long time ago. Now Lu-Tze a stranger everywhere he goes. Best way. Learned religion in temple at home. Now go where job is.""Carting soil and pruning plants?""Sure. Never been bishop or high panjandrum. Dangerous life. Always be man who cleans pews or sweeps up behind altar. No one bother useful man. No one bother small man. No one remember name.""That's what I was going to do! But it doesn't work for me.""Then find other way. I learn in temple. Taught by ancient master. When trouble, always remember wise words of ancient and venerable master.""What were they?"

Paul Cezanne The Black Clock

Paul Cezanne The Black ClockPaul Cezanne The Banks of the MarnePaul Cezanne Still Life with OnionsPaul Cezanne Still Life with KettlePaul Cezanne Still Life with Fruit
The Turtle Moves," said Urn thoughtfully.
"What?" said Brutha.
"Master did a book," said Urn.
"Not really a book," said Didactylos modestly. "More a scroll. Just a little thing I knocked off."
"Saying that the world is flat and goes through space on the back of a giant turtle?" said Brutha.
"Have you read it?" Didactylos's gaze was unmoving. "Are you a slave?"
"No," said Brutha. "I am a-”
"Don't mention my name! Call yourself a scribe or something!"
"-scribe," said Brutha weakly.
"Yeah," said Urn. "I can see that. The telltale callus on the thumb where you hold the pen. The inkstains all over your sleeves."Then he said, "You aren't going to say they're a relic of an outmoded belief system?"
Didactylos, still running his fingers over Om's shell, shook his head.
"Nope. I like my thunderstorms a long way off."
"Oh. Could you stop turning him over and over? He's just told me he doesn't like it."Brutha glanced at his left thumb. "I haven't-”"Yeah," said Urn, grinning. "Use your left hand, do you?""Er, I use both," said Brutha. "But not very well, everyone says.""Ah," said Didactylos. "Ambi-sinister?""What?""He means incompetent with both hands," said Om."Oh. Yes. That's me." Brutha coughed politely. "Look . . . I'm looking for a philosopher. Um. One that knows about gods."He waited.
"You can tell how old they are by cutting them in half and counting

Frederic Remington The Cowboy

Frederic Remington The CowboyThomas Kinkade veniceThomas Kinkade HOMETOWN MEMORIESThomas Kinkade CHRISTMAS MEMORIES
than a locked room ceases to exist, but . . . locked.
"What is the first thing you can remember, my son?" said Vorbis, kindly.
"There was a bright light, and then someone hit me," said Brutha.
The three And so on.
He looked around the room.
Furnishing was not a priority in the Citadel. Shelves, stools, tables . . . There was a rumor among the novices that priests towards the top of the hierarchy had golden furniture, but there was no sign of it here. The room was as severe as anything in the novices' quarters although it had, perhaps, a more opulent severity; it wasn't the forced bareness of poverty, but the starkness of intent.
"My son?"men stared at him blankly. Then they turned to one another. Brutha, through the misery of his terror, heard snatches of whispering.". . . is there to lose? . . . "Foolishness and probably demonic . . ." "Stakes are high . . ." "One chance, and they will be expecting us . . ."

Edward Hopper Summertime

Edward Hopper SummertimeEdward Hopper Night WindowsEdward Hopper Lighthouse Hill
'Those clouds aren't right,' said Conina.
'Do you mind if we go down now?' said Nijel weakly. 'Somehow it didn't look so bad when we were moving.'
Conina 'Something's happening to the weather,' said Conina. ,Why?,
'You mean you don't know?' said the genie.
'We're asking you, aren't we?'
'Well, I'm no judge, but it rather looks like the Apocralypse, yuh?'
'What?'
The genie shrugged. 'The gods have vanished, okay?' he said. 'And according to, you know, legend, that means-’ignored this. 'Try the lamp,' she commanded. 'I want to know about this.'Nijel fumbled in his pack and produced the lamp.The voice of the genie sounded rather tinny and far off, and said: 'If you would care to relax a little ... trying to connect you.' There then followed some tinkly little music, the kind that perhaps a Swiss chalet would make if you could play it, before a trapdoor outlined itself in the air and the genie himself appeared. He looked around him, and then at them.'Oh, wow,' he said.

Alexei Alexeivich Harlamoff Literary Pursuits of a Young Lady

Alexei Alexeivich Harlamoff Literary Pursuits of a Young LadyJean Fragonard The SwingJean Fragonard The Fountain of Love
in his eyes.
'You don't seem to understand,' he rasped. 'It's sourcery you're dealing with now. You can't fight sourcery.'
'I can use and another.
He put a bony digit to his lips, or rather, to the place where his lips would have been if he'd had lips.
All wizards can see Death, but they don't necessarily want to.
There was a popping in Rincewind's ears and the spectre vanished.sourcery,' said Abrim.The wizard snarled and lofted a fireball, which burst harmlessly inches from Abrim's dreadful grin.A look of acute puzzlement passed across the other one's face. He tried again, sending lines of blue-hot magic lancing straight from infinity towards Abrim's heart. Abrim waved them away.'Your choice is simple,' he said. 'You can join me, or you can die.'It was at this point that Rincewind became aware of a regular scraping sound close to his ear. It had an unpleasant metallic ring.He half-turned, and felt the familiar and very uncomfortable prickly feeling of Time slowing down around him.Death paused in the act of running a whetstone along the edge of his scythe and gave him a nod of acknow­ledgement, as between one professional

John William Waterhouse Juliet

John William Waterhouse JulietJohn William Waterhouse Flora and the ZephyrsJohn William Waterhouse Apollo and Daphne
'They've run off,' said Conina.
'Are we going to be attacked?'
'Could be. There's been three men following us on the rooftops.'
Rincewind squinted upwards at almost the same time as three men, dressed in flowing black robes, dropped lightly into with jealous horror, rather embarrassed.
'Why, you-’ he growled, and gave it a kick - 'you handbag.'
He sidled closer to the girl, who was standing there with a thoughtful smile on her face.
'What now?' he said. 'Are you going to offer them all a quick perm?'
The men edged a little closer. They were, he noticed, only interested in Conina.
'I'm not armed,' she said.
'What happened to your legendary comb?'the alleyway in front of them. When he looked around two more appeared from around a corner. All five were holding long curved swords and, although the lower halves of their faces were masked, it was almost certain that they were grinning evilly.Rincewind rapped sharply on the Luggage's lid.'Kill,' he suggested. The Luggage stood stock still for a moment, and then plodded over and stood next to Conina. It looked slightly smug and, Rincewind realised
'Left it on the boat.'

Joseph Mallord William Turner Heidelberg

Joseph Mallord William Turner HeidelbergTheodore Robinson Willows and WildflowersMary Cassatt Woman With A Pearl Necklace In A Loge
rats are leaving!'
The bursar gave him another stare.
'Come inside, Rincewind,' he said, kindly. Rincewind followed him into the low, dark room and across to the window. It looked out over the gardens to the river, oozing peacefully towards the sea.
'You haven't 'But the rats-'
'Grain ship in harbour, I expect. Some, um, springtime ritual.'
'I'm sure I felt the building shaking, too,' said Rincewind, a shade uncertainly. Here in this quiet room, with the fire crackling in the grate, it didn't seem quite so real.
'A passing tremor. Great A'Tuin hiccuping, um, possibly. A grip on youself, um, is what you should get. You haven't been drinking, have you?'been, um, overdoing it?’ said the bursar.'Overdoing what?' said Rincewind, guiltily.'This is a building, you see,' said the bursar. Like most wizards when faced with a puzzle, he started to roll himself a cigarette. 'It's not a ship. There are ways of telling, you know. Absence of porpoises frolicking around the bows, a shortage of bilges, that sort of thing. The chances of foundering are remote. Otherwise, um, we'd have to man the sheds and row for shore. Um?'

Thomas Kinkade Evening on the Avenue

Thomas Kinkade Evening on the AvenueThomas Kinkade Cobblestone ChristmasThomas Kinkade Cobblestone Brooke
More power to your elbow, eh?’ said the drummer, grinning.
‘Shut up and play!’
He was aware that tunes were turning up at the ends of his fingers that his brain had never known. The drummer and the piper felt it too. Music was pouring in from somewhere. They weren’t playing it. It was playing them.
IT IS TIME FOR A NEW DANCE TO BEGIN.
‘Duurrrump-da-dum-dum,’ hummed the fiddler, the sweat running off his chin as he was caught up in a different tune.
The dancers milled around uncertainly, unsure about the steps. But one pair moved purposefully through them at a predatory crouch, arms clasped ahead of them like the bowsprit of a killer galleon. At the end of the floor they turned in a flurry of limbs that appeared to defy normal anatomy and began the angular advance back through the crowd.
‘What’s suddenly kept time with the music.
‘Who’s playing the maracas?’
Death grinned.
MARACAS? I DON’T NEED . . . MARACAS.this one called?’TANGO.‘Can you get put in prison for it?’I DON’T BELIEVE SO.‘Amazing.’The music changed.‘I know this one! It’s the Quirmish bullfight dance! Oh-lay!’‘WITH MILK’?A high-speed fusillade of hollow snapping noises
And then it was now.
The moon was a ghost of itself on one horizon

Henri Rousseau The Waterfall

Henri Rousseau The WaterfallHenri Rousseau The Repast of the LionHenri Rousseau The Merry Jesters
understood what I said,’ snapped Doreen, in the more normal tones of one bon and brought up in Ankh-Morpork rather than some tran-sylvanian fastness.’Honestly, if I left it to you, we’d have no standards at all -‘ ‘My name’s Ludmilla, ‘ said Ludmilla.
‘Charmed,’ said the Countess Notfaroutoe graciously, extending a hand that would have been thin and pale if it had not been pink and stubby. ‘Alvays nice to meet fresh blood. If you ever fancy a dog biscuit when you’re out There was a brief, implosive noise, and a small fat bat hung in the air. It looked down, gave an angry squeak, and nosedived on to the soil. Doreen picked it up by its feet and dusted it off. ‘It’s having to sleep with the window open all night that I object to,’ she said vaguely. ‘I wish they’d stop that music! I ‘m getting a headache.’ There was another whoomph. Arthur reappeared upside down and landed on his head.
‘It’s the drop, you see,’ said Doreen. ‘It’s like a run-up, and about, our door iss alwace open.’Ludmilla turned to Windle Poons.‘It’s not written on my forehead, is it?’ she said.‘These are a special kind of people.’ said Windle gently. ‘I should think so,’ said Ludmilla, levelly. ‘I ‘You’ve got to have the cloak,’ said Count Arthur. ‘For the wings, you see. Like -‘He spread the cloak dramatically.

Pierre Auguste Renoir Les baigneuses

Pierre Auguste Renoir Les baigneusesPierre Auguste Renoir By the SeashoreThomas Kinkade Victorian Autumn
Leaking out wherever it could.
‘Do you think I could have a word with One -‘ he began, and then stopped.
He got up and lurched over to Mrs Cake’s mantel-piece. ‘How long have you had this, Mrs Cake?’ he demanded, picking up a familiar glassy object.
‘That? Bought it yesterday. Pretty, ain’t it?’
Windle shook the globe. It was almost identical to the ones under his floorboards. Snowflakes whirled up and settled doesn’t usually arise!’
‘You exorcise them, I think.’
‘What? Jumpin’ up and down, runnin’ on the spot, that kind of thing?’
The Dean had been ready for this.’It’s spelled with an “O”, Archchancellor.on an exquisite model of Unseen University.It reminded him strongly of something. Well, the building obviously reminded him of the University, but the shape of the whole thing, there was a hint of, it made him think of . . . . . . breakfast?‘Why is it happening?’ he said, half to himself.‘These damn things are turning up everywhere.’The wizards ran down the corridor.‘How can you kill ghosts?’‘How should I know? The question

Paris Eiffel Tower

Paris Eiffel TowerPaul Klee ZitronenPaul Klee Villa R
was more feared than an Age of Enlightenment; the mere sight of Mrs Cake’s small fat body on the threshold was enough to stop most priests dead in the middle of their invocation.
Dead. Thatwas enough left to power Mrs Cake but, strangely enough, the more pieces of her mind she gave away the more there seemed to be left.
There was also the question of Ludmilla. Ludmilla was a problem. The late
Mr Cake, gods rest his soul, had never so much as even whistled at the full
moon his whole life, and Mrs Cake had dark suspicions that Ludmilla was a was the point. All the religions had very strong views about talking to the dead. And so did Mrs Cake. They held that it was sinful. Mrs Cake held that it was only common courtesy.This usually led to a fierce ecclesiastical debate which resulted in Mrs Cake giving the chief priest what she called ‘a piece of her mind’. There were so many pieces of Mrs Cake’s mind left around the city now that it was quite surprising that there

Paul Cezanne Poplar Trees

Paul Cezanne Poplar TreesPaul Cezanne Leda with SwanPaul Cezanne House and TreesPaul Cezanne A Modern OlympiaLaurie Maitland Autumn Song
night. Always up to mischief. Someone had tried to tell Windle that Ridcully was Archchancellor now.
Mmm. They must think he was daft.
Where was that damn tinder box? Fingers . . . you used to get proper fingers in the old days . . .
Someone pulled the covers off a lantern. Someone else pushed a drink into his groping hand.
‘Surprise!’
In the hallgloom of his study.
Albert, his servant, was waiting for him with the towel and dusters.
‘Good morning, master.’
Death sat down silently in his big chair. Albert draped the towel over the angular shoulders.
‘Another nice day,’ he said, conversationally.
Death said nothing. of the house of Death is a clock with a pendulum like a blade but with no hands, because in the house of Death there is no time but the present. (There was. of course. a present before the present now, but that was also the present. It was just an older one.)The pendulum is a blade that would have made Edgar Allan Poe give it all up and start again as a stand-up comedian on the scampi-in-a-casket circuit. It swings with a faint whum-whum noise, gently slicing thin rashers of interval from the bacon of eternity.Death stalked past the clock and into the sombre