Albert Moore Garden

Albert Moore GardenAlbert Moore ApplesMark Rothko Yellow and Gold2Mark Rothko Yellow and Blue
Magrat thought: he was much nicer when he was a man with silver bells on his hat and slept every night on the floor in front of his master’s door. I could talk to him then . . .
Verence clapped his hands together.
“Well, that’s about it, then. Busy day tomorrow, what with all the guests coming and everything.”
“Yes. It’s going to be a long day.”
“Very nearly the longest day. Haha.”
“Yes.”very primitive.”
Magrat looked at the fire. Their wifery wasn’t up to much either, she thought.
“So we’d better be off to bed, then, do you think?”
“I suppose so.”
Verence took down two silver candlesticks, and lit the candles with“I expect they’ve put warming pans in our beds.”“Has Shawn got the hang of it now?”“I hope so. I can’t afford any more mattresses.”It was a great hall. Shadows piled up in the corners, clustered at either end.“I suppose,” said Magrat, very slowly, as they stared at the fire, “they haven’t really had many books here in Lancre. Up until now.”“Literacy is a great thing.”“They got along without them, I suppose.”Terry Pratchett“Yes, but not properly. Their husbandry is really