Photographer Unknown, (Beads of Water)
“…Human beings, little bags of thinking water held up briefly by fragile accumulations of calcium…”
―
Tag: terry pratchett
Heat of the Mid-Day Sun
Photographer Unknown, (Heat of the Mid-day Sun)
“Night poured over the desert. It came suddenly, in purple. In the clear air, the stars drilled down out of the sky, reminding any thoughtful watcher that it is in the deserts and high places that religions are generated. When men see nothing but bottomless infinity over their heads they have always had a driving and desperate urge to find someone to put in the way.”
―
Black and White Plaid Shirt
Photographer Unknown, (Black and White Plaid Shirt)
“Why do you go away? So that you can come back. So that you can see the place you came from with new eyes and extra colors. And the people there see you differently, too. Coming back to where you started is not the same as never leaving.”
―
The Word Sixfold
The Word Sex Manifested Sixfold
“It is said that the gods play games with the lives of men. But what games, and why, and the identities of the actual pawns, and what the game is, and what the rules are – who knows?
Best not to speculate.
Thunder rolled…
It rolled a six.”
―
No One Move!
Photographer Unknown, (No One Move!)
Aware that something was off kilter, but not quite sure what it was, the thieves edged back to the door. No one moved as they unbolted it and, still holding Angua, stepped out into the fog, shutting the door behind them.
“Hadn’t we better help,” said a constable who was new to the Watch.
“They don’t deserve help,” said Vimes. There was a clank of armor and then a long, deep growl, right outside in the street. And a scream and then another scream. and a third scream modulated with “NONONOnonononononoNO!…aarghaarghaargh!” Something heavy hit the door.
-Terry Pratchett, Feet of Clay
Rufino Tamayo
Rufino Tamayo, “Perro Aullando (Dog Howling)”, 1960, Lithograph, 50 x 65.5 cm, Fine Arts Museum of San Francisco
There are some dogs which, when you meet them, remind you that, despite thousands of years of manmade evolution, every dog is still only two meals away from being a wolf. These dogs advance deliberately, purposefully, the wilderness made flesh, their teeth yellow, their breath a-stink, while in the distance their owners witter, “He’s an old soppy really, just poke him if he’s a nuisance,” and in the green of their eyes the red campfires of the Pleistocene gleam and flicker…
-Neil Gaiman and Terry Pratchett, Good Omens: The Nice and Accurate Prophecies of Agnes Nutter, Witch