Sandro Botticelli La Primavera paintingSalvador Dali meditative rose paintingSalvador Dali clock melting clocks painting
“Why is your skin so dark?”
He saw her bright little eyes thrust into him through the little lenses and he felt a strong current of pain or danger. He knew that something was wrong. She did not answer him immediately but peered down at him sharply. Then the current passed and she looked away from him, readjusting her fingers so that she took his hand. Her face looked very far away, and resolute. “Just because, chile,” she said in a stern and gentle voice. “Just because that was the way God made me.”
“Is that why you’re colored, Victoria?”
He felt a change in her hand when he said the word “colored.” Again she did not answer immediately, nor would she look at him. “Yes,” she said at length, “that’s why I’m colored.”
He felt deeply sad as they walked along, but he did not know why. She seemed to have no more to say, and he had a feeling that it was not proper for him to say anything either. He watched her great, sad face beneath its brilliant cap, but she did not seem to
Tuesday, October 7, 2008
Monday, October 6, 2008
Thomas Kinkade Footprints in the sand painting
Thomas Kinkade Footprints in the sand paintingThomas Kinkade Christmas Cottage paintingThomas Kinkade almost heaven painting
hesitation; and took their place on the rock without breaking silence. As always, Rufus’ father took off his hat and put it over the front of his bent knee, and as always, Rufus imitated him, but this time his father did not roll a cigarette. They waited while the man came by, intruding on their privacy, and disappeared, as someone nearly always did, and then relaxed sharply into the pleasure of their privacy; but this time Rufus’ father did not hum, nor did he say anything, nor even touch the rock with his hand, but sat with his hands hung between his knees and looked out over North Knoxville, hearing the restive assemblage of the train; and after there had been silence for a while, raised his head and looked up into the leaves and between the leaves into the broad stars, not smiling, but with his eyes more calm and grave and his mouth strong and more quiet, than Rufus had ever seen his eyes and his mouth; and as he watched his father’s face, Rufus felt his father’s hand settle, without groping or clumsiness, on the top of his bare head; it took his forehead and smoothed it, and pushed the hair backward from his forehead, and held the back of his head while Rufus
hesitation; and took their place on the rock without breaking silence. As always, Rufus’ father took off his hat and put it over the front of his bent knee, and as always, Rufus imitated him, but this time his father did not roll a cigarette. They waited while the man came by, intruding on their privacy, and disappeared, as someone nearly always did, and then relaxed sharply into the pleasure of their privacy; but this time Rufus’ father did not hum, nor did he say anything, nor even touch the rock with his hand, but sat with his hands hung between his knees and looked out over North Knoxville, hearing the restive assemblage of the train; and after there had been silence for a while, raised his head and looked up into the leaves and between the leaves into the broad stars, not smiling, but with his eyes more calm and grave and his mouth strong and more quiet, than Rufus had ever seen his eyes and his mouth; and as he watched his father’s face, Rufus felt his father’s hand settle, without groping or clumsiness, on the top of his bare head; it took his forehead and smoothed it, and pushed the hair backward from his forehead, and held the back of his head while Rufus
Claude Monet Mill near Zaandam painting
Claude Monet Mill near Zaandam paintingClaude Monet Meadows at Giverny paintingClaude Monet Lemon-Trees Bordighera painting
might have saved us the trouble; however...Ryder, you will find a party of fifty and report to the Quartering Comandant at the house at 1045 hours; he’ll show you what we’re taking over.’
‘Very good, sir.’
‘Our predecessors do not seem to have been very enterprising. The valley has great potentialities for an assault course and a mortar range. Weapon-training officer, make a recce this morning and get something laid on before Brigade arrives.’ ‘Very good, sir.’
‘I’m going out myself with the adjutant to recce training areas. Anyone happen to know this district?’
I said nothing.
‘That’s all then, get cracking.’
‘Wonderful old place in its way,’ said the Quartering Commandant; ‘pity to knock it about too much.’
He was an old, retired, re-appointed lieutenant-colonel from some
might have saved us the trouble; however...Ryder, you will find a party of fifty and report to the Quartering Comandant at the house at 1045 hours; he’ll show you what we’re taking over.’
‘Very good, sir.’
‘Our predecessors do not seem to have been very enterprising. The valley has great potentialities for an assault course and a mortar range. Weapon-training officer, make a recce this morning and get something laid on before Brigade arrives.’ ‘Very good, sir.’
‘I’m going out myself with the adjutant to recce training areas. Anyone happen to know this district?’
I said nothing.
‘That’s all then, get cracking.’
‘Wonderful old place in its way,’ said the Quartering Commandant; ‘pity to knock it about too much.’
He was an old, retired, re-appointed lieutenant-colonel from some
Sunday, October 5, 2008
Edward Hopper New York New Haven and Hartford painting
Edward Hopper New York New Haven and Hartford paintingEdward Hopper Reclining Nude paintingFrederic Edwin Church The Andes of Ecuador painting
water and counting the days of Happiness; now under the first stars and the last grey whisper of day, all this mysterious tumult of sorrow! What had happened to us in the Painted Parlour? What shadow had fallen in the candlelight? Two rough sentences and a trite phrase.’ She was beside herself; her voice, now muffled in my breast, now clear and anguished, came to me in single words and broken sentences. ‘Past and future; the years when I was trying to be a good wife, in the cigar smoke, while the counters clicked on the backgammon board, and the man who was “dummy” at the men’s table filled the glasses; when I was trying to bear his child, torn in pieces by something already dead; putting him away, forgetting him, finding you, the past two years with you, all the future with you, all the future with or without you, war coming, world ending - sin.
water and counting the days of Happiness; now under the first stars and the last grey whisper of day, all this mysterious tumult of sorrow! What had happened to us in the Painted Parlour? What shadow had fallen in the candlelight? Two rough sentences and a trite phrase.’ She was beside herself; her voice, now muffled in my breast, now clear and anguished, came to me in single words and broken sentences. ‘Past and future; the years when I was trying to be a good wife, in the cigar smoke, while the counters clicked on the backgammon board, and the man who was “dummy” at the men’s table filled the glasses; when I was trying to bear his child, torn in pieces by something already dead; putting him away, forgetting him, finding you, the past two years with you, all the future with you, all the future with or without you, war coming, world ending - sin.
Lord Frederick Leighton Nausicaa painting
Lord Frederick Leighton Nausicaa paintingLord Frederick Leighton Light of the Harem paintingLord Frederick Leighton Elijah in the Wilderness painting
one cannot die, even for a little, without some loss made me say, ‘Love? I’m not asking for love.’ ‘Oh yes, Charles, you are,’ she said, and putting up her hand gently stroked my cheek; then shut her door.
And I reeled back, first on one wall, then on the other, of the long, softly lighted, empty corridor; for the storm, it appeared, had the form of a ring; all day we had been sailing through its still centre; now we were once more in the full fury of the wind and that night was to be rougher than the one before.
Ten hours of talking: what had we to say? Plain fact mostly, the record of our two lives, so long widely separate, now being knit to one. Through all that storrn-tossed night I rehearsed what she had told me; she was no longer the alternate succubus and starry, vision of the night before; she had given all that
one cannot die, even for a little, without some loss made me say, ‘Love? I’m not asking for love.’ ‘Oh yes, Charles, you are,’ she said, and putting up her hand gently stroked my cheek; then shut her door.
And I reeled back, first on one wall, then on the other, of the long, softly lighted, empty corridor; for the storm, it appeared, had the form of a ring; all day we had been sailing through its still centre; now we were once more in the full fury of the wind and that night was to be rougher than the one before.
Ten hours of talking: what had we to say? Plain fact mostly, the record of our two lives, so long widely separate, now being knit to one. Through all that storrn-tossed night I rehearsed what she had told me; she was no longer the alternate succubus and starry, vision of the night before; she had given all that
Saturday, October 4, 2008
Berthe Morisot The Butterfly Chase painting
Berthe Morisot The Butterfly Chase paintingPeter Paul Rubens Cimon and Pero paintingPeter Paul Rubens The Straw Hat painting
present house in Hertford Street was large enough for them both, and had lately been furnished and decorated by the most expensive firm. Julia said she did not want a house in the country yet; they could always take places furnished when they wanted to go away.
There was trouble about the marriage settlement with which Julia refused to interest herself. The lawyers were in despair. Rex absolutely refused to settle any capital. ‘What do I want with trustee stock?’ he asked.
‘I don’t know, darling.’
‘I make money work for me,’ he said. ‘I expect fifteen, twenty per cent and I get it. It’s pure waste tying up capital at three and a half’ ‘I’m sure it is, darling.’
‘These fellows talk as though I were trying to rob you. It’s they who are
present house in Hertford Street was large enough for them both, and had lately been furnished and decorated by the most expensive firm. Julia said she did not want a house in the country yet; they could always take places furnished when they wanted to go away.
There was trouble about the marriage settlement with which Julia refused to interest herself. The lawyers were in despair. Rex absolutely refused to settle any capital. ‘What do I want with trustee stock?’ he asked.
‘I don’t know, darling.’
‘I make money work for me,’ he said. ‘I expect fifteen, twenty per cent and I get it. It’s pure waste tying up capital at three and a half’ ‘I’m sure it is, darling.’
‘These fellows talk as though I were trying to rob you. It’s they who are
Jean Fragonard The Musical Contest painting
Jean Fragonard The Musical Contest paintingJean Fragonard The Love Letter paintingJean Fragonard The Fountain of Love painting
not spend our evenings together, and from nine 0’clock onwards were alone and at Mr Samgrass’s mercy. Hardly an evening seemed to paw but he called on one o r the other of us. He spoke of ‘our little escapade’ as though he, too, had been in the cells, and had that bond with us...Once I climbed out of college and Mr Samgrass found me in Sebastian’s rooms after the gate was shut and that, too, he made into a bond. It did not surprise me, therefore, when I arrived at Brideshead, after Christmas, to find Mr Samgrass, as though in wait for me, sitting alone before the fire in the room they called the ‘Tapestry Hall’. ‘You find me in solitary possession,’ he said, and indeed he seemed to possess the hall and the sombre scenes of venery that hung round it, to possess the caryatids on either side of the fireplace, to possess me, as he rose to take my hand and greet me like a host:
‘This morning,’ he continued, ‘we had a lawn meet of the Marchmain Hounds - a deliciously archaic spectacle and all our young friends are fox-
not spend our evenings together, and from nine 0’clock onwards were alone and at Mr Samgrass’s mercy. Hardly an evening seemed to paw but he called on one o r the other of us. He spoke of ‘our little escapade’ as though he, too, had been in the cells, and had that bond with us...Once I climbed out of college and Mr Samgrass found me in Sebastian’s rooms after the gate was shut and that, too, he made into a bond. It did not surprise me, therefore, when I arrived at Brideshead, after Christmas, to find Mr Samgrass, as though in wait for me, sitting alone before the fire in the room they called the ‘Tapestry Hall’. ‘You find me in solitary possession,’ he said, and indeed he seemed to possess the hall and the sombre scenes of venery that hung round it, to possess the caryatids on either side of the fireplace, to possess me, as he rose to take my hand and greet me like a host:
‘This morning,’ he continued, ‘we had a lawn meet of the Marchmain Hounds - a deliciously archaic spectacle and all our young friends are fox-
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