Leonardo da Vinci Head of Christ

Leonardo da Vinci Head of ChristJohn Singer Sargent A Dinner Table at NightLord Frederick Leighton Leighton Winding the SkeinWilliam Bouguereau Love Takes FlightWilliam Bouguereau Birth of Venus
Where to?’
‘To the back of the queue!’
‘But we’re wizards! Wizards never stand in line for anything!’
‘We’re honest merchants, remember?’ said the Chair. He glanced at the nearest click‑goers, who were giving them odd looks. ‘We’re honest merchants,’ he repeated loudly.
He nudged the Dean. ‘Go on,’ he hissed.
‘Go on what?’
‘suddenly surrounded by a desperately‑pushing crowd.
‘I say, there is a queue, you know,’ said the Hon­est Merchant in Recent Runes diffidently, as he was shoved aside.
The Dean grabbed the shoulder of a boy who was ferociously elbowing him aside.
‘What is going on, young man?’ he demanded.Go on and say something merchanty.’‘What sort of thing is that?’ said the Dean, mystified.‘Say something! Everyone’s looking at us!’‘Oh.’ The Dean’s face creased in panic, and then sal­vation dawned. ‘Lovely apples,’ he said. ‘Get them while they’re hot. They’re luvverly . . . Will this do?’‘I suppose so. Now let’s go to the end–‘There was a commotion at the other end of the street. People surged forward. The queue broke ranks and charged. The honest merchants were
‘They’re a‑coming!’ shouted the boy.

Mary Magdalene in the Desert

Mary Magdalene in the DesertLeroy Neiman World Class SkierJuan Gris Violin and EngravingJuan Gris The ViolinJuan Gris The Painter's Window
sound, well, very complicated for such a long click. People sort of falling in love while a civil war is going on in the background . . . I don’t see how you can make much of a picture out of that.’
There was another troubled silence. A couple of people near Victor moved away. Dibbler was staring at him.
Victor could‘Of there not being chariot races, am I right?’ said Dibbler, in soapy tones containing the razor blade of menace. Soll sagged.
‘Since you put it like that, Uncle,’ he said, ‘you’re right.’ hear, coming from under his chair, an almost inaudible little voice. ‘ . . . oh, of course, there’s always a part for Laddie . . . woes he got that I haven’t got, that’s wot I’d like to . . . ‘ Dibbler was still staring fixedly at Victor. Then he said, ‘You’re right. You’re right. Victor’s right. Why didn’t anyone else spot it?’ ‘That’s just what I was thinking, Uncle,’ said Soll hurriedly. ‘We need to flesh it out a bit.’ Dibbler waved his cigar vaguely. ‘We can think up some more stuff as we go, no problem. Like . . . like . . . how about a chariot race? People always like a chariot race. It’s gripping. Will he fall out, will the wheels come off? Yeah. A chariot race.’ ‘I’ve, er, been reading a bit about the Civil War,’ said Soll cautiously, ‘and I don’t think there’s any mention of–’

Thomas Kinkade Pools of Serenity

Thomas Kinkade Pools of SerenityThomas Kinkade Make a Wish Cottage 2Thomas Kinkade Home For ChristmasThomas Kinkade Elegant Evening at BiltmoreThomas Kinkade Dawson
thought you had names in your own language,’ said Victor. ‘You know, like "Mighty Paws" or - or "Speedy Hunter". Or something.’
He smiled encouragingly.
The others gave him a long blank stare.
‘He readsits ears.
‘Now look, pal–’ it began.
‘Y’know,’ said Gaspode cheerfully, in an attempt to revive the conversation, ‘I heard there’s this legend where the first two people in the world named all the animals. Makes you fink, don’t it.’
Victor pulled out the book to cover his embarrassment. Chanting and lighting fires. Three books,’ explained Gaspode. ‘See, the thing is,’ he added, scratching himself vigorously, ‘animals don’t normally bother with names. I mean, we know who we are.’ ‘Mind you, I like "Speedy Hunter",’ said the mouse. ‘I was thinking that’s more a cat’s name,’ said Victor, starting to sweat. ‘Mice have friendly little names, like – like Squeak.’ ‘Squeak?’ said the mouse, coldly. The rabbit grinned. ‘And, and I always thought rabbits were called Flopsy. Or Mr Thumpy,’ Victor gabbled. The rabbit stopped grinning and twitched

Edward Hopper Morning in a City

Edward Hopper Morning in a CityEdward Hopper High NoonEdward Hopper Four Lane RoadEdward Hopper Excursion into PhilosophyEdward Hopper Drug Store
It was still midnight. A full moon glided above the smoke and fumes of Ankh-Morpork, thankful that several thousand miles of sky lay between it and them.
The Alchemists’ Guildhall was new. It was always new. It had been explosively demolished and rebuilt four times in theIt went clickaclickaclickaclicka . . . click.
It went on for several minutes, to a background of cheers. And then a voice said:
‘That’s all, folks.’ last two years, on the last occasion without a lecture and demonstration room in the hope that this might be a helpful move. On this night a number of muffled figures entered the building in a surreptitious fashion. After a few minutes the lights in a window on the top floor dimmed and went out. Well, nearly out. Something was happening up there. A strange flickering filled the window, very briefly. It was followed by a ragged cheering. And there was a noise. Not a bang this time, but a strange mechanical purring, like a happy cat at the bottom of a tin drum.

Vincent van Gogh The Yellow House

Vincent van Gogh The Yellow HouseLeonardo da Vinci Virgin of the RocksLeonardo da Vinci St John the BaptistLeonardo da Vinci Madonna with YarnwinderLeonardo da Vinci Madonna Litta
the feeling of omnipotence, the very strong sensation that while he didn't actually know everything, he would do soon and had done once.
It had been like this back in Ankh, when the divinity had hooked him. But that had been just a flicker. Now it had the solid from Teppic like ripples.
But I never wanted this! I just wanted to help people live more happily, with plumbing. I wanted something done about rundown inner-city areas. I just wanted to put them at their ease, and ask them how they enjoyed their lives. I thought schools might be a good idea, so they wouldn't fall down and worship someone just because he's got green feet.
And I wanted to do something about the architecture... As the light drained power of real belief behind it. He looked down at a rustling below him, and saw green shoots springing out of the dry sand around his feet. Bloody hell, he thought. I really am a god. This could be very embarrassing. He shouldered his way through the press of people until he reached the riverbank and stood there in a thickening clump of corn. As the crowd caught on, those nearest fell to their knees, and a circle of reverentially collapsing people spread out

Edgar Degas At the Races

Edgar Degas At the RacesEdgar Degas After the BathFrida Kahlo The FrameFrida Kahlo Self Portrait with NecklaceFrida Kahlo Self Portrait with Monkeys
'You don't get more royal than them, then. You'd need a new word,' said IIa. We're nearly royal in that case.'
'You don't understand business, my son. You think it's all book-keeping. Well, it isn't.'
'It's a question of mass. And the power to weight ratio.' They both glared at Ptaclusp IIb, who was sitting staring at the sketches. the plans, and then got in ten thousand lads on time-and-a-half and double bubble at weekends. They just had to pile the stuff up. You didn't have to be cosmic about it.
Descendants! The gods had seen fit to give him one son who charged you for the amount of breath expended in saying 'Good morning', and another one who worshipped geometry and stayed up all night designing aqueducts. You scrimped and saved to send them to the best schools, and then they went and paid you back by getting educated.
'What are you talking about?' he snapped.He was turning his stylus over and over in his hands, which were trembling with barely-suppressed excitement. 'We'll have to use granite for the lower slopes,' he said, talking to himself, 'the limestone wouldn't take it. Not with all the power flows. Which will be, whooeee, they'll be big. I mean we're not talking razor blades here. This thing could put an edge on a rolling pin.' Ptaclusp rolled his eyes. He was only one generation into a dynasty and already it was trouble. One son a born accountant, the other in love with this new-fangled cosmic engineering. There hadn't been any such thing when he was a lad, there was just architecture. You drew

Salvador Dali Living Still Life

Salvador Dali Living Still LifePeder Mork Monsted A River Landscape in SpringtimeGuillaume Seignac The Awakening of PsycheRudolf Ernst The Perfume MakerAlexandre Cabanel Fallen Angel
cannot do it!' said Wimsloe. 'I will be seen! Down there in the hall, someone watches!'
'There is no-one!'
'I feel the stare!'
'Dithering security. It was just a dream, and when I awoke, he'd be alive tomorrow. And tomorrow it wouldn't have happened because it was not done. And tomorrow you can say I did not know. And tomorrow you can say I had no recollection. What a noise he made in falling! Enough to wake the dead . . . who would have thought he had so much blood in him? . . .' By now he had idiot! Must I put it in for you? See, his foot is upon the top stair!'Wimsloe's face contorted with fear and uncertainty. He drew back his hand.'No!'The scream came from the audience. The duke was half-risen from his seat, his tortured knuckles at his mouth. As they watched he lurched forward between the shocked people.'No! I did not do it! It was not like that! You cannot say it was like that! You were not there!' He stared at the upturned faces around him, and sagged.'Nor was I,' he giggled. 'I was asleep at the time, you know. I remember it quite well. There was blood on the counterpane, there was blood on the floor, I could not wash off the blood, but these are not proper subjects for the inquiry. I cannot allow the discussion of national

Leroy Neiman Lady Liberty

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drank it, didn't I,' said Nanny. 'Sitting around up there at my age. Our Jason would have a fit.'
Granny gritted her teeth. 'Well, let's have the power,' she said. 'I'm running out of up. Amazing how—'
Granny's voice ended in a scream as; without any warning at all, her broomstick pinwheeled sharply across the clouds and dropped from sight.

The Fool and Magrat sat on a log on a small outcrop that looked out across the forest. The lights of Lancre town were inas brave as standing up to the old boy must have been quite outside his nature. The sound of two suits of bells shaken in anger still haunted his memory, which was full enough of bad scenes as it was.
'Still,' said Magrat, her voice higher than usual and with a vibrato of uncertainty, 'it must be a happy life. Making people laugh, I mean.' fact not very far away, but neither of them had suggested leaving.The air between them crackled with unspoken thoughts and wild surmisings.'You've been a Fool long?' said Magrat, politely. She blushed in the darkness. In that atmosphere it sounded the most impolite of questions.'All my life,' said the Fool bitterly. 'I cut my teeth on a set of bells.''I suppose it gets handed on, from father to son?' said Magrat.'I never saw much of my father. He went off to be Fool for the Lords of Quirm when I was small,' said the Fool. 'Had a row with my grandad. He comes back from time to time, to see my mam.''That's terrible.'There was a sad jingle as the Fool shrugged. He vaguely recalled his father as a short, friendly little man, with eyes like a couple of oysters. Doing something

Jean Auguste Dominique Ingres Ingres Venus Anadyomene

Jean Auguste Dominique Ingres Ingres Venus AnadyomenePeter Paul Rubens Cimon and PeroPeter Paul Rubens The Straw HatPeter Paul Rubens Duke of LermaJohn William Godward Dolce far niente
'They've been saying that, have they?'
'Yes, m'm.'
'Well, your mam does upset people sometimes.'
Shawn hopped from one leg to another.
'Yes, m'm, but they says terrible things about you, m'm, savin' your presence, m'm.'
Granny stiffened.
'What things?'
'Don't like to say, m'm.'
'What things?'
Shawn She stood up, took her pointed hat from its hook behind the door and, glaring into the mirror, skewered it in place with a number of ferocious hatpins. They slid on one by one by one, as unstoppable as the wrath of God.
She vanished into the outhouse for a moment and came back with her witch's cloak, which served as a blanket for sick goats when not otherwise employed.considered his next move. There weren't many choices.'A lot of things what aren't true, m'm,' he said, establishing his credentials as early as possible. 'All sorts of things. Like, old Verence was a bad king and you helped him on the throne, and you caused that bad winter the other year, and old Norbut's cow dint give no milk after you looked at it. Lot of lies, m'm,' he added, loyally.'Right,' said Granny.She shut the door in his panting face, stood in thought for a moment, and retired to her rocking chair.Eventually she said, once more, 'Right.'A little later she added, 'She's a daft old besom, but we can't have people going round doing things to witches. Once you've lost your respect, you ain't got a thing. I don't remember looking at old Norbut's cow. Who's old Norbut?'

Leonardo da Vinci Lady With An Ermine

Leonardo da Vinci Lady With An ErmineThomas Kinkade End of a Perfect DayThomas Kinkade Beacon of hopeThomas Kinkade The Sea Of TranquilityThomas Kinkade The Beginning of a Perfect Day
took him a mere twenty seconds to learn that, to the great many things a ghost cannot do, should be added the mounting of a horse. He did succeed in getting into the saddle, or at least in straddling the air just above it, but when the 'Can you tell by the pricking of your thumbs?' said Magrat earnestly. Magrat had learned a lot about witchcraft from books.
'The pricking of my ears,' said Granny. She raised her eyebrows at Nanny Ogg. Old Goodie Whemper had been an excellent witch in her way, but far too fanciful. Too many flowers and romantic notions and such.
The occasional flash of lightning showed the moorland stretching down to the forest, but the rain horse finally bolted, terrified beyond belief by the mysterious things happening behind its ears, Verence was left sitting astride five feet of fresh air.He tried to run, and got about as far as the gateway before the air around him thickened to the consistency of tar.'You can't,' said a sad, old voice behind him. 'You have to stay where you were killed. That's what haunting means. Take it from me. I know.' Granny Weatherwax paused with a second scone halfway to her mouth.'Something comes,' she said.

Andy Warhol Page from Lips Book

Andy Warhol Page from Lips BookAndy Warhol One Blue PussyAndy Warhol Marilyn
MIGHT STROLL AROUND A BIT, he said mysteriously. I DON'T SEEM TO FEEL QUITE RIGHT. I COULD DO WITH THE FRESH AIR. He seemed to remember something, reached into the mysterious shadows of his cloak, and pulled out three hourglasses. ALL STRAIGHTFORWARD, he said. ENJOY YOURSELF.
He turned and but Binky was like riding a pillow. As an afterthought, drunk with delegated authority, he pulled Death's riding cloak out of its saddlebag and fastened it by its silver brooch.
He took another look at the first hourglass, and nudged Binky with his knees. The horse sniffed

Edward Hopper Railroad Train

Edward Hopper Railroad TrainEdward Hopper New York OfficeEdward Hopper Morning in a City
'There's an old log over there,' she said conversationally. 'There's quite a good view across the valley. In the summertime, of course. I should like to sit down.'
Mort to move on. I reckon it's about time I tried something else. Did he tell you magical folk can see him all the time?'
'No,' said Mort, inaccurately.
'Well, we can.'
'He doesn't like wizards and witches much,' Mort volunteered.
'Nobody likes a smartass,' she said with some satisfaction. 'We give him trouble, you see. Priests don't, so he likes priests.'
'He's never said,' said Mort.helped her through the drifts and brushed as much snow as possible off the wood. They sat down with the hourglass between them. Whatever the view might have been in the summer, it now consisted of black rocks against a sky from which little flakes of snow were now tumbling.'I can't believe all this,' said Mort. 'I mean you sound as if you want to die.''There's some things I shall miss,' she said. 'But it gets thin, to. You can't trust your own body any more, and it's time

Thomas Kinkade A New Day Dawning

Thomas Kinkade A New Day DawningJohn Collier LilithWilliam Bouguereau The Abduction of Psyche
the problems of growing up, to indicate – in short – that the world is a funny old lace where one should never, metaphorically speaking, be so proud as to turn down the offer of a perfectly good hot meat pie.
They were alone now. The frost, the last one of the year, tightened its grip on the stones.
High in the And then they heard the clip-clop of hooves, which boomed rather more loudly around the chilly square than common acoustics should really allow. In fact clip-clop was an astonishingly inaccurate word for the kind of noise which rattled around Mort's head; clip-clop suggested a rather jolly tower above them a cogged wheel went clonk, tripped a lever, released a ratchet and let a heavy lead weight drop down. There was a dreadful metallic wheezing noise and the trapdoors in the clock face slid open, releasing the clockwork men. Swinging their hammers jerkily, as if they were afflicted with robotic arthritis, they began to ring in the new day.'Well, that's it,' said Lezek, hopefully. They'd have to find somewhere to sleep – Hogswatch-night was no time to be walking in the mountains. Perhaps there was a stable somewhere. . . .'It's not midnight until the last stroke,' said Mort, distantly.Lezek shrugged. The sheer strength of Mort's obstinacy was defeating him.'All right,' he said. 'We'll wait, then.'

Georges Seurat Le Chahut

Georges Seurat Le ChahutWilliam Blake NebuchadnezzarWilliam Blake Jacob's Ladder
wasn't about to let temporary prosperity dislodge her: "Are you getting enough to eat?"
"Yes," said Esk. "Granny, about this wizard magic, it's all words -"
"Always said it was," said Granny.
"No, I mean -" Esk began, but Granny waved a hand irritably.
"Can't be bothered with this at the moment," she said. "I've got some big orders to fill by tonight, if it goes on like this I'm lined with red. A dark, winy red, but red nevertheless. On Granny, who had never been known to wear any visible clothing that was other than a serviceable black, it was quite shocking.
"The library?" said Mrs Whitlow. "Aye don't think anyone cleans the library!" She looked genuinely puzzled.
"Why?" said Esk, "Doesn't it get dusty?"
"Well," said Mrs Whitlow. She thought for a while. "Aye suppose it going to have to train someone up. Can't you come and see me when you get an afternoon off, or whatever it is they give you?" "Train someone up?" said Esk, horrified. "You mean as a witch?" "No," said Granny. "I mean, perhaps." "But what about me?" "Well, you're going your own way," said Granny. "Wherever that is." "Mmph," said Esk. Granny stared at her. "I'll be off, then," she said at last. She turned and strode off towards the kitchen entrance. As she did so her cloak swirled out, and Esk saw that it was now

Salvador Dali Melting Watch

Salvador Dali Melting WatchSalvador Dali Dream Caused by the Flight of a Bee around a PomegranateSalvador Dali Bacchanale
www-"
"- wizard -"
"- one day. Master Treatle says I have an exceptional grasp of ththeory." Simon's damp eyes misted over and an expression almost of bliss drifted across his ravaged face.
"He t-tells me they've got thousands of b-books University," he said, in the voice of a man in love. "More bbooks than anyone could "I'm not sure I like books," said Esk conversationally. "How can paper know things? My granny says books are only good if the paper is thin."
"No, that's not right," said Simon urgently. "Books are full of www" he gulped air and gave her a pleading look.
"- words? -" "yes, that no wiwiwi-"
"- Wizard? -"said Esk, her face a frown of concentration.
"Yes, has ever found." His eyes closed and he smiled a beatific smile and added, "The Words that Will change the World."said Esk, after a moment's thought. "- yes, and they can change th-things. Th-that's wuwuw, that wuwuwwhha-whha-" "-what-" "-I must f-find. I know it's th-there, somewhere in all the old books. They ssss-" "-say "there's no new spells but I know that it's there somewhere, hiding, the wwwwwuwu-" "- words -"
"What?"

Pierre Auguste Renoir Dance in the City

Pierre Auguste Renoir Dance in the CityJoaquin Sorolla y Bastida Beaching the Boat (study)Joseph Mallord William Turner Mortlake Terrace
"Listen," said Granny, "If you give someone a bottle of red jollop for their wind it may work, right, but if you want it to work for sure then you let their mind make it work for them. Tell 'em it's moonbeams bottled in fairy wine or something. Mumble over it a bit. It's the same with cursing."
"Cursing?" said Esk, weakly.
"Aye, cursing, my girl, and no need to look so shocked! You'll curse, when the need comes. When you're alone, "You're a bit young for this," she said, "but as you grow older you'll find most people don't set foot outside their own heads much. You too," she added gnomically.
"I don't understand."
"I'd be very surprised if you did," said Grannyand there's no help to hand, and -" She hesitated and, uncomfortably aware of Esk's questioning eyes, finished lamely: "- and people aren't showing respect. Make it loud, make it complicated, make it long, and make it up if you have to, but it'll work all right. Next day, when they hit their thumb or they fall off a ladder or their dog drops dead, they'll remember you. They'll behave twice a day. Boiled water with a bit of berry juice in it. Told him I'd bought it from the dwarves. That's the biggest part of doct'rin, really. Most people'll get over most things if they put their minds to it, you just have to give them an interest." She patted Esk's hand as nicely as possible. briskly, "but you can tell me five herbs suitable for dry coughs."

Salvador Dali Galatea of the Spheres

Salvador Dali Galatea of the SpheresSalvador Dali GalarinaSalvador Dali Figure at a Window ISalvador Dali Corpus Hypercubus
at this bad time for all things magical, even in a room designed to damp down all magical vibrations, the Octavo was still crackling with power.
There was no real need for the torches. The Octavo filled the room with a dull, sullen light, which wasn't strictly ,' said Trymon. He pulled a scroll out of his belt and unrolled it.
'Bring that torch here,' he said, 'and put that cigarette out!'
He waited for the explosion of infuriated pride. But none came. Instead, the offending mage removed the dogend from his lips with trembling fingers and ground it into the floor.
Trymon exulted. So, he thought, they do what I say. Just for now, maybe – but just for now light at all but the opposite of light; darkness isn't the opposite of light, it is simply its absence, and what was radiating from the book was the light that lies on the far side of darkness, the light fantastic.It was a rather disappointing purple colour.As has been noted before, the Octavo was chained to a lectern carved into the shape of something that looked vaguely avian, slightly reptilian and horribly alive. Two glittering eyes regarded the wizards with hooded hatred.'I saw it move,' said one of them.'We're safe so long as we don't touch the book

Rembrandt Susanna and the Elders

Rembrandt Susanna and the EldersRembrandt Diana Bathing with the Stories of Actaeon and CallistoRembrandt Christ On The CrossRembrandt Christ Driving The Money Changers From The Temple
'Remember where I am? Remember where I am?' shouted Rincewind. 'Of course I remember where I am, I'm inside a bloody book talking to a load of voices I can't see, why do you think I'm screaming?'
'I expect you're wondering why we brought you here again,' said a voice by his ear.
'No.'
'No?'
'What is going to collide with the star.'
Rincewind thought about this. 'Is it?'did he say?' said another disembodied voice.'He said no.''He really said no?''Yes.''Oh.''Why?''This sort of thing happens to me all the time,' said Rincewind. 'One minute I'm falling off the world, then I'm inside a book, then I'm on a flying rock, then I'm watching Death learn how to play Weir or Dam or whatever it was, why should I wonder about anything?''Well, we imagine you will be wondering why we don't want anyone to say us,' said the first voice, aware that it was losing the initiative.Rincewind hesitated. The thought had crossed his mind, only very fast and looking nervously from side to side in case it got knocked over.'Why should anyone want to say you?''It's the star,' said the spell. 'The red star. Wizards are already looking for you; when they find you they want to say all eight Spells together to change the future. They think the Disc

Pino Morning Dreams

Pino Morning DreamsPino LONG STEMMED LOVELIESPino DRESSING TABLEPino DAYDREAM
whatever the bemused man told them. Thus were immortalised in generations of atlases such geographical oddities as Just A Mountain, I Don't Know, What? and, of course, Your Finger You Fool.
Rainclouds clustered around the bald heights of Mt. Oolskunrahod ('Who is this Fool who does Not Know what a Mountain Is') and the Luggage settled itself more comfortably under a dripping tree, which tried unsuccessfully to strike up a conversation.
Twoflower and Rincewind were arguing. The person they were arguing about sat on his mushroom and watched them with interest. He looked like someone who smelled like someone who lived in a mushroom, and that bothered 'Look at that beard,' said Twoflower sternly. 'I've seen better beards on a piece of cheese.'
'Look, he's six inches high and lives in a mushroom,' snarled Rincewind. 'Of course he's a bloody gnome.'
'We've only got his word for it.'
Rincewind looked down at the gnome.Twoflower.'Well, why hasn't he got a red hat?'Rincewind hesitated, desperately trying to imagine what Twoflower was getting at.'What?' he said, giving in.'He should have a red hat,' said Twoflower. 'And he certainly ought to be cleaner and more, more sort of jolly. He doesn't look like any sort of gnome to me.''What are you going on about?'
'Excuse me,' he said. He took Twoflower to the other side of the clearing.
'Listen,' he said between his teeth. 'If he was fifteen feet tall and said he was a

Mark Rothko Yellow and Gold2

Mark Rothko Yellow and Gold2Mark Rothko Yellow and BlueMark Rothko Violet Green and Red 1951Mark Rothko Untitled 1962
came speeding across the sea, floating a man-length above it, but still leaving a foaming wake as whatever power that held it up smacked brutally into the water. Rincewind knew what power held it up. He was, he would be the island was perhaps twenty feet across, and totally transparent. Sitting around its circumference were a large number of black-robed men, each one strapped securely to the disc by a leather harness and each one staring down at the waves with an expression so tormented, so agonising, that the transparent disc seemed to be ringed with gargoyles.
Rincewind sighed with relief. This was such an unusual sound that it made Twoflower take his eyes the first to admit, a coward, an incompetent, and not even very good at being a failure; but he was still a wizard of sorts, he knew one of the Eight Great Spells, he would be claimed by Death himself when he died and he recognized really finely honed magic when he saw it.The lens skimming towards