Jack Vettriano Lazy Hazy DaysJack Vettriano La Fille a la MotoJack Vettriano La Fille a la Moto II
Collins and another Loyola professor, neuroscientist Edward Neafsey, Ph.D., suggest a second possible explanation. Small amounts of alcohol might, in effect, make brain cells more fit. Alcohol in moderate levels stresses cells and thus toughens them up to cope with major stresses down the road that could cause dementia.
For most people who drink and a Mediterranean diet high in fruits, vegetables, cereals, beans, nuts and seeds.
Moreover, there are times when people should never drink, including before driving, Collins said.
Source: Loyola Universityresponsibly and in moderation, there's probably no reason to quit. But because of the potential for alcohol to be abused, Collins and Neafsey do not recommend that abstainers begin drinking. The researchers note there are other things besides moderate drinking that can reduce the risk of dementia, including exercise, green tea, education
Tuesday, December 30, 2008
Monday, December 29, 2008
Pissarro Sunset at St. Charles Eragny
Pissarro Sunset at St. Charles EragnyPissarro Resting in the Woods at PontoisePissarro Morning An Overcast Day RouenPissarro La Cote des Boeufs the Hermitage
strong nuclear force. * DNA on the Cheap: When the human genome was decoded a few years ago, it used techniques that are now considered somewhat a number of companies has become available over the past few years has blown the doors off genome sequencing. The "sequencing by synthesis" technology from 454 Sequencing (now owned by Roche) has allowed researchers to to sequence partial genomes of extinct cave bears and Neanderthals, along with 80 percent of a woolly mammoth's. As sequencing technology advances, more and more genetic codes will be cracked and, like in consumer technology and electronics, the price will continue to fall.
Given this list, it would appear that 2008 was a productive year in the To see how this list compares to last year's, have a look at our past coverage.because we saw the planet, but because we were able to observe the star it orbits wobbling due to the planet's mass. Starting in the latter part of this year, astronomers have been reporting on the direct observation of exoplanets. Using adaptive optics
strong nuclear force. * DNA on the Cheap: When the human genome was decoded a few years ago, it used techniques that are now considered somewhat a number of companies has become available over the past few years has blown the doors off genome sequencing. The "sequencing by synthesis" technology from 454 Sequencing (now owned by Roche) has allowed researchers to to sequence partial genomes of extinct cave bears and Neanderthals, along with 80 percent of a woolly mammoth's. As sequencing technology advances, more and more genetic codes will be cracked and, like in consumer technology and electronics, the price will continue to fall.
Given this list, it would appear that 2008 was a productive year in the To see how this list compares to last year's, have a look at our past coverage.because we saw the planet, but because we were able to observe the star it orbits wobbling due to the planet's mass. Starting in the latter part of this year, astronomers have been reporting on the direct observation of exoplanets. Using adaptive optics
Tuesday, December 23, 2008
Monsted The Raging Rapids
Monsted The Raging RapidsMonsted A Pastoral Landscape after a StormMonsted A Winding Stream In SummeMonsted On the River
Common sense argued that an assault against this estate required teamwork, that one man couldn’t jump the wall, deceive the electronic security measures, disable the guards, and breach the house. That was Bruce Willis on the big screen. That was Tom Cruise in makeup. That was Channing Manheim playing a role from the dark side. That wasn’t anyone real.If a coordinated team of kidnappers had gotten inside Palazzo Rospo, however, there would be more his mouth, the discovery that he’d pinched tongue with teeth when he dropped to the ground, the throb just now arising in the bite.A flutter of foliage spun him around, and he brought the pistol toward the sound.Not foliage. Wings. Through the jungle, high above the pathway, flew a flock of brightly colored parrots, blue and red and yellow and the iridescent green of certain strange sunsetsthan one gunman squeezing off [575] short bursts of suppressing fire. They would have chopped at Ethan with one, two, three fully automatic carbines. Uzis or worse. By now he would be down, dead, and dancing in paradise.When silence persisted after the third brief volley, he rose from cover and eased warily through the ferns, between the palms, to the edge of the pathway.In any jungle movie, stillness like this always signaled the wilderness-savvy characters that villainy in one form or another had stepped into the natural world, silencing cricket and crocodile alike.Green-juice smell of crushed vegetation rising from underfoot.Muffled voice of a heating-system fan purring in the walls.A gnat, a midge, hovering in the air before him, hovering.Taste of blood in
Common sense argued that an assault against this estate required teamwork, that one man couldn’t jump the wall, deceive the electronic security measures, disable the guards, and breach the house. That was Bruce Willis on the big screen. That was Tom Cruise in makeup. That was Channing Manheim playing a role from the dark side. That wasn’t anyone real.If a coordinated team of kidnappers had gotten inside Palazzo Rospo, however, there would be more his mouth, the discovery that he’d pinched tongue with teeth when he dropped to the ground, the throb just now arising in the bite.A flutter of foliage spun him around, and he brought the pistol toward the sound.Not foliage. Wings. Through the jungle, high above the pathway, flew a flock of brightly colored parrots, blue and red and yellow and the iridescent green of certain strange sunsetsthan one gunman squeezing off [575] short bursts of suppressing fire. They would have chopped at Ethan with one, two, three fully automatic carbines. Uzis or worse. By now he would be down, dead, and dancing in paradise.When silence persisted after the third brief volley, he rose from cover and eased warily through the ferns, between the palms, to the edge of the pathway.In any jungle movie, stillness like this always signaled the wilderness-savvy characters that villainy in one form or another had stepped into the natural world, silencing cricket and crocodile alike.Green-juice smell of crushed vegetation rising from underfoot.Muffled voice of a heating-system fan purring in the walls.A gnat, a midge, hovering in the air before him, hovering.Taste of blood in
Sunday, December 21, 2008
Rothko Slate Blue and Brown on Plum
Rothko Slate Blue and Brown on PlumRothko No. 18Rothko No 61 Brown Blue Brown on Blue c1953Rothko No 3 19672
and special secret place. Given the slightest reason to believe that Moloch was coming, he could bolt for cover and be out of sight as . Mr. Truman would not arrive with the food for perhaps ten minutes.The rain-soaked, fog-swaddled grounds beyond the windows were revealed by many landscape lights, but the theme was enchantment and romance, which meant that shadows ruled. If Moloch had scaled the estate wall without being detected by the security system, he might be out there, shrouded in the murk, watching.Fric considered hurrying to the kitchen under the pretense of lending a hand with dinner, but he didn’t want to appear to be needy, nerdy, geeky.If he actually might run away aquick as a rabbit.Weirdly, he suspected that Mr. Truman, too, expected Moloch. The voltage-flow-testing story was crap. Something must be up.He hoped that Mr. Truman wouldn’t page him by intercom, as he had earlier paged him in the library. Not even under duress would Fric press the RESPOND button, because he was afraid that like *69, it might connect him with that place from which something had tried to squirm through the handset cord and into his ear.Finishing the table preparation sooner than expected, he checked his wristwatchnd join the Marine Corps someday, instead of hiding
and special secret place. Given the slightest reason to believe that Moloch was coming, he could bolt for cover and be out of sight as . Mr. Truman would not arrive with the food for perhaps ten minutes.The rain-soaked, fog-swaddled grounds beyond the windows were revealed by many landscape lights, but the theme was enchantment and romance, which meant that shadows ruled. If Moloch had scaled the estate wall without being detected by the security system, he might be out there, shrouded in the murk, watching.Fric considered hurrying to the kitchen under the pretense of lending a hand with dinner, but he didn’t want to appear to be needy, nerdy, geeky.If he actually might run away aquick as a rabbit.Weirdly, he suspected that Mr. Truman, too, expected Moloch. The voltage-flow-testing story was crap. Something must be up.He hoped that Mr. Truman wouldn’t page him by intercom, as he had earlier paged him in the library. Not even under duress would Fric press the RESPOND button, because he was afraid that like *69, it might connect him with that place from which something had tried to squirm through the handset cord and into his ear.Finishing the table preparation sooner than expected, he checked his wristwatchnd join the Marine Corps someday, instead of hiding
Friday, December 19, 2008
Vincent van Gogh The Yellow House painting
Vincent van Gogh The Yellow House paintingFra Angelico Madonna con Bambino paintingLeonardo da Vinci Virgin of the Rocks painting
?”“We’ve got tomorrow yet.”Hazard looked past Ethan, at the window, and gazed into the storm, as issued no cry of surprise, no groan, no même.To be sure that Brittina was dead, Corky wanted to shoot her once more, this time in the back of the head. Unfortunately, his pistol had begun to bark.Even the highest quality sound suppressor deteriorates with use. Regardless of the material used as baffling in the barrel extension, it compacts a little with each shot, diminishing in function.Furthermore, Corky didn’t possess a suppressor of the quality employed by agents of the CIA. You could not expect materials and craftsmanship equal to those of a major firearms manufacturer when you purchased a silencer from anti-veal activists.He had popped Hokenberry six times and Brittina twice. In just eight shots, the pistol had begun to find its voice again.Perhaps the most recent round had not been audiblthough he were reading rain with the same expectation of meaning that a soothsayer might bring to the reading of sodden tea leaves.After consideration, he said, “Maybe we shouldn’t absolutely count on tomorrow. I get the feeling we’re running out of time.”
?”“We’ve got tomorrow yet.”Hazard looked past Ethan, at the window, and gazed into the storm, as issued no cry of surprise, no groan, no même.To be sure that Brittina was dead, Corky wanted to shoot her once more, this time in the back of the head. Unfortunately, his pistol had begun to bark.Even the highest quality sound suppressor deteriorates with use. Regardless of the material used as baffling in the barrel extension, it compacts a little with each shot, diminishing in function.Furthermore, Corky didn’t possess a suppressor of the quality employed by agents of the CIA. You could not expect materials and craftsmanship equal to those of a major firearms manufacturer when you purchased a silencer from anti-veal activists.He had popped Hokenberry six times and Brittina twice. In just eight shots, the pistol had begun to find its voice again.Perhaps the most recent round had not been audiblthough he were reading rain with the same expectation of meaning that a soothsayer might bring to the reading of sodden tea leaves.After consideration, he said, “Maybe we shouldn’t absolutely count on tomorrow. I get the feeling we’re running out of time.”
Tuesday, December 16, 2008
Edward Hopper Room in New York painting
Edward Hopper Room in New York paintingEdward Hopper Chop Suey paintingJean Francois Millet The Gleaners painting
contrast, the bungalow of the three-eyed freak sat behind a half-dead front lawn, skirted by masses of unkempt shrubbery, at the end of a cracked and hoved concrete walkway. Under the Mexican-tile roof, the filthy tangles of long-empty birds’ sweat pants and a Megadeth concert T-shirt, Ned Hokenberry said, “You look like a damn mustard pot.”“It’s raining,” Corky observed.“You look like a pimple on Godzilla’s ass.”“If you’re worried about getting the carpet wet—”“Hell, scuzzy as this carpet is, a bunch of pukin’-drunk hobos with bad bladders couldn’t nests dripped from the eaves, and the stucco walls were cracked, chipped, in need of paint.The structure looked like the residence of a troll who had grown weary of living under bridges, without amenities, but who had neither the knowledge nor the industry, nor the sense of pride, needed to maintain a house.Corky rang the doorbell, which produced not sweet chimes but the sputtering racket of a broken, corroded mechanism.He loved this place.Because Corky had called ahead and promised money, the three-eyed freak was waiting by the door. He answered the tubercular cough of the bell even before the sound finished grating on Corky’s ear.Yanking the door open, looming, one great grizzled grimace with a pendulous gut and size-thirteen bare feet, wearing gray
contrast, the bungalow of the three-eyed freak sat behind a half-dead front lawn, skirted by masses of unkempt shrubbery, at the end of a cracked and hoved concrete walkway. Under the Mexican-tile roof, the filthy tangles of long-empty birds’ sweat pants and a Megadeth concert T-shirt, Ned Hokenberry said, “You look like a damn mustard pot.”“It’s raining,” Corky observed.“You look like a pimple on Godzilla’s ass.”“If you’re worried about getting the carpet wet—”“Hell, scuzzy as this carpet is, a bunch of pukin’-drunk hobos with bad bladders couldn’t nests dripped from the eaves, and the stucco walls were cracked, chipped, in need of paint.The structure looked like the residence of a troll who had grown weary of living under bridges, without amenities, but who had neither the knowledge nor the industry, nor the sense of pride, needed to maintain a house.Corky rang the doorbell, which produced not sweet chimes but the sputtering racket of a broken, corroded mechanism.He loved this place.Because Corky had called ahead and promised money, the three-eyed freak was waiting by the door. He answered the tubercular cough of the bell even before the sound finished grating on Corky’s ear.Yanking the door open, looming, one great grizzled grimace with a pendulous gut and size-thirteen bare feet, wearing gray
Thursday, December 11, 2008
Vincent van Gogh Orchard in Blossom painting
Vincent van Gogh Orchard in Blossom paintingVincent van Gogh Le Moulin a Poivre paintingVincent van Gogh Landscape with Olive Trees painting
growl of wind and a jingle of overhead bells, he stepped out of the shop into the cold teeth of the December night, and drew the door shut behind him.He waited in the entry alcove, between the display windows, as a young couple in raincoats and hoods spoke to the dog, “Tink, let’s go.”Tink hesitated, searching Ethan’s eyes, and only moved on when the woman repeated the command.Because the couple and the dog were headed in the direction of his SUV, Ethan waited briefly, to avoid following on their heels.The leaves of the curbside trees were still gilded by lamplight, and from their pointed tips flowed drips and drizzles as glimmerous as molten gold.In the street, the traffic appeared to be lighter than it should have been at this passed on the sidewalk, led by a golden retriever on a leash.Relishing the rain and wind, the soaked retriever pranced on webbed paws, snout lifted to savor mysterious scents upon the chilly [161] air. Before it fully passed, it looked up, and its eyes were as wise as they were liquid and dark.The dog halted, pricked its floppy ears as much as they would prick, and cocked its head as though not entirely sure what kind of man stood here in the shelter of the coral-pink awning, between the roses and the rain. The tail wagged, but only twice, and tentatively.Stopped by their canine companion, the young couple said, “Good evening,” and Ethan replied, and the woman
growl of wind and a jingle of overhead bells, he stepped out of the shop into the cold teeth of the December night, and drew the door shut behind him.He waited in the entry alcove, between the display windows, as a young couple in raincoats and hoods spoke to the dog, “Tink, let’s go.”Tink hesitated, searching Ethan’s eyes, and only moved on when the woman repeated the command.Because the couple and the dog were headed in the direction of his SUV, Ethan waited briefly, to avoid following on their heels.The leaves of the curbside trees were still gilded by lamplight, and from their pointed tips flowed drips and drizzles as glimmerous as molten gold.In the street, the traffic appeared to be lighter than it should have been at this passed on the sidewalk, led by a golden retriever on a leash.Relishing the rain and wind, the soaked retriever pranced on webbed paws, snout lifted to savor mysterious scents upon the chilly [161] air. Before it fully passed, it looked up, and its eyes were as wise as they were liquid and dark.The dog halted, pricked its floppy ears as much as they would prick, and cocked its head as though not entirely sure what kind of man stood here in the shelter of the coral-pink awning, between the roses and the rain. The tail wagged, but only twice, and tentatively.Stopped by their canine companion, the young couple said, “Good evening,” and Ethan replied, and the woman
Wednesday, December 10, 2008
Vincent van Gogh Tree and Man painting
Vincent van Gogh Tree and Man paintingVincent van Gogh In the Jardin du Luxembourg paintingVincent van Gogh Houses at Auvers paintingVincent van Gogh View from Montmartre painting
AFTER SHUTTING DOWN THE RAILROADS, Fric left the dirty Nazis to their evil schemes, departed the unreality of the train room for the unreality of the multimillion-dollar car collection in the garage, and ran for the stairs.He should have taken the elevator. That cableless mechanism, which raised and lowered the cab on ameaning of the name given to the great house by its first owner: Palazzo Rospo. Nearly everyone knew that palazzo was Italian for “palace,” but no one except perhaps a few sneeringly superior European film directors seemed to have any idea what rospo powerful hydraulic ram, would be too slow, however, for his current mood.Fric’s engine raced, raced. The telephone conversation with the weird stranger—whom he had dubbed Mysterious Caller—was high-octane fuel for a boy imagination, and empty hours to fill.He didn’t climb the stairs; he assaulted them. Legs pumping, grabbing at the handrail, Fric flung himself up from the basement, conquering two, four, six, eight long flights, to the top of Palazzo Rospo, where he had rooms on the third floor.Only Fric seemed to know the
AFTER SHUTTING DOWN THE RAILROADS, Fric left the dirty Nazis to their evil schemes, departed the unreality of the train room for the unreality of the multimillion-dollar car collection in the garage, and ran for the stairs.He should have taken the elevator. That cableless mechanism, which raised and lowered the cab on ameaning of the name given to the great house by its first owner: Palazzo Rospo. Nearly everyone knew that palazzo was Italian for “palace,” but no one except perhaps a few sneeringly superior European film directors seemed to have any idea what rospo powerful hydraulic ram, would be too slow, however, for his current mood.Fric’s engine raced, raced. The telephone conversation with the weird stranger—whom he had dubbed Mysterious Caller—was high-octane fuel for a boy imagination, and empty hours to fill.He didn’t climb the stairs; he assaulted them. Legs pumping, grabbing at the handrail, Fric flung himself up from the basement, conquering two, four, six, eight long flights, to the top of Palazzo Rospo, where he had rooms on the third floor.Only Fric seemed to know the
Tuesday, December 9, 2008
Rembrandt Musical Allegory painting
Rembrandt Musical Allegory paintingLord Frederick Leighton Venus Disrobing for the Bath paintingLord Frederick Leighton The Golden Hours paintingLord Frederick Leighton The Bath of Psyche painting
accessorizing the hills of Bel Air.Watching weather clarified his thinking.[5] Sometimes only nature felt real, while all human monuments and actions seemed to be the settings and the plots of dreams.From his uniform days the force had said that he did too much thinking. Some of them were dead.The apple had come in the sixth black box received in ten days. The contents of the previous five had been disturbing.Courses in criminal psychology, combined with years of street experience, made Ethan hard to impress in matters regarding the human capacity for evil. Yet these gifts provoked his deep concern.In recent years, influenced by the operatically flamboyant villains in films, every common gangbanger and every would-be serial killer, starring in his own mind movie, could not simply do his dirty work and move along. Most seemed to be obsessed with developing a dramatic persona, colorful crime-scene signatures, and ingenious taunts either to torment their victims beforehand or, after a law-enforcement agencies.Their sources of inspiration, however, were all acts of cruelty seem as tiresome as the antics of an unfunny clown.The sender of the black boxes succeeded where others failed. For one thing, his wordless threats were inventive.When his intentions were at last known and the threats could be better understood in light of whatever actions he took, they might also prove to be clever. Even fiendishly so.
accessorizing the hills of Bel Air.Watching weather clarified his thinking.[5] Sometimes only nature felt real, while all human monuments and actions seemed to be the settings and the plots of dreams.From his uniform days the force had said that he did too much thinking. Some of them were dead.The apple had come in the sixth black box received in ten days. The contents of the previous five had been disturbing.Courses in criminal psychology, combined with years of street experience, made Ethan hard to impress in matters regarding the human capacity for evil. Yet these gifts provoked his deep concern.In recent years, influenced by the operatically flamboyant villains in films, every common gangbanger and every would-be serial killer, starring in his own mind movie, could not simply do his dirty work and move along. Most seemed to be obsessed with developing a dramatic persona, colorful crime-scene signatures, and ingenious taunts either to torment their victims beforehand or, after a law-enforcement agencies.Their sources of inspiration, however, were all acts of cruelty seem as tiresome as the antics of an unfunny clown.The sender of the black boxes succeeded where others failed. For one thing, his wordless threats were inventive.When his intentions were at last known and the threats could be better understood in light of whatever actions he took, they might also prove to be clever. Even fiendishly so.
Sunday, December 7, 2008
Unknown Artist city dancers painting
Unknown Artist city dancers paintingJames Jacques Joseph Tissot Too Early paintingHenri Rousseau Woman Walking in an Exotic Forest paintingHenri Rousseau war painting
wonder? ' said Aragorn. `He is the Bearer, and the fate of the Burden is on him. I do not think that it is our part to drive him one way or the other. Nor do I think that we should succeed, if we tried. There are other powers at work far stronger.'`Well, I wish Frodo would "screw himself up" and come back. and let us get it over,' said Pippin. `This waiting is horrible! . I have never seen such a thing happen before. though I have heard of it in tales. He must have put the Ring on. I could not find him again. I thought he would return to you.''Is that all that you have to say? ' said Aragorn, looking hard and not too kindly at Boromir.`Yes,' he answered. `I will say no more yet.'`This is bad!' cried Sam, jumping up. `I don't know what this Man has been up to. Why should Mr. Frodo put the thing on? He didn't ought to have; and if he has, goodness knows what may have happenedSurely the time is up? '`Yes,' said Aragorn. 'The hour is long passed. The morning is wearing away. We must call for him.'At that moment Boromir reappeared. He came out from the trees and walked towards them without speaking. His face looked grim and sad. He paused as if counting those that were present, and then sat down aloof, with his eyes on the ground.`Where have you been, Boromir? ' asked Aragorn. `Have you seen Frodo? 'Boromir hesitated for a second. `Yes, and no,' he answered slowly. `Yes: I found him some way up the hill, and I spoke to him. I urged him to come to Minas Tirith and not to go east. I grew angry and he left me. He vanished
wonder? ' said Aragorn. `He is the Bearer, and the fate of the Burden is on him. I do not think that it is our part to drive him one way or the other. Nor do I think that we should succeed, if we tried. There are other powers at work far stronger.'`Well, I wish Frodo would "screw himself up" and come back. and let us get it over,' said Pippin. `This waiting is horrible! . I have never seen such a thing happen before. though I have heard of it in tales. He must have put the Ring on. I could not find him again. I thought he would return to you.''Is that all that you have to say? ' said Aragorn, looking hard and not too kindly at Boromir.`Yes,' he answered. `I will say no more yet.'`This is bad!' cried Sam, jumping up. `I don't know what this Man has been up to. Why should Mr. Frodo put the thing on? He didn't ought to have; and if he has, goodness knows what may have happenedSurely the time is up? '`Yes,' said Aragorn. 'The hour is long passed. The morning is wearing away. We must call for him.'At that moment Boromir reappeared. He came out from the trees and walked towards them without speaking. His face looked grim and sad. He paused as if counting those that were present, and then sat down aloof, with his eyes on the ground.`Where have you been, Boromir? ' asked Aragorn. `Have you seen Frodo? 'Boromir hesitated for a second. `Yes, and no,' he answered slowly. `Yes: I found him some way up the hill, and I spoke to him. I urged him to come to Minas Tirith and not to go east. I grew angry and he left me. He vanished
Friday, December 5, 2008
Winslow Homer The Gulf Stream painting
Winslow Homer The Gulf Stream paintingEdward Hopper The Long Leg painting
length they stirred and looked up, and began to search for anything that would give them tidings of Balin's fate, or show what had become of his folk. There was another smaller door on the other side of the chamber, under the shaft. By both the doors they could now see that many bones were lying, and among them were broken swords and axe-heads, and , that they were written by many different hands, in runes, both of Moria and of Dale, and here and there in Elvish script.At last Gandalf looked up. 'It seems to be a record of the fortunes of Balin's folk,' he said. `I guess that it began with their coming to Dimrill Dale nigh on thirty years ago: the pages seem to have numbers
Edward Hopper Railroad Sunset paintingEdward Hopper Morning Sun painting
cloven shields and helms. Some of the swords were crooked: orc-scimitars with blackened blades.There were many recesses cut in the rock of the walls, and in them were large iron-bound chests of wood. All had been broken and plundered; but beside the shattered lid of one there lay the remains of a book. It had been slashed and stabbed and partly burned, and it was so stained with black and other dark marks like old blood that little of it could be read. Gandalf lifted it carefully, but the leaves crackled and broke as he laid it on the slab. He pored over it for some time without speaking. Frodo and Gimli standing at his side could see, as he gingerly turned the leaves
length they stirred and looked up, and began to search for anything that would give them tidings of Balin's fate, or show what had become of his folk. There was another smaller door on the other side of the chamber, under the shaft. By both the doors they could now see that many bones were lying, and among them were broken swords and axe-heads, and , that they were written by many different hands, in runes, both of Moria and of Dale, and here and there in Elvish script.At last Gandalf looked up. 'It seems to be a record of the fortunes of Balin's folk,' he said. `I guess that it began with their coming to Dimrill Dale nigh on thirty years ago: the pages seem to have numbers
Edward Hopper Railroad Sunset paintingEdward Hopper Morning Sun painting
cloven shields and helms. Some of the swords were crooked: orc-scimitars with blackened blades.There were many recesses cut in the rock of the walls, and in them were large iron-bound chests of wood. All had been broken and plundered; but beside the shattered lid of one there lay the remains of a book. It had been slashed and stabbed and partly burned, and it was so stained with black and other dark marks like old blood that little of it could be read. Gandalf lifted it carefully, but the leaves crackled and broke as he laid it on the slab. He pored over it for some time without speaking. Frodo and Gimli standing at his side could see, as he gingerly turned the leaves
Wednesday, December 3, 2008
Salvador Dali clock melting clocks painting
Salvador Dali clock melting clocks paintingJean Beraud Pont des arts painting
my heart for my friends in the Shire; but still I had some hope. I hoped that Frodo had set forth at once, as my letter had urged, and that he xlate in coming,' said Gandalf, 'as you will see. I was in an evil plight. And those who know me will agree that I have seldom been in such need, and do not bear such misfortune well. Gandalf
Jean Beraud Boulevard des capucines paintingHenri Rousseau The Snake Charmer painting
my heart for my friends in the Shire; but still I had some hope. I hoped that Frodo had set forth at once, as my letter had urged, and that he had reached Rivendell before the deadly pursuit began. And both my fear and my hope proved ill-founded. For my hope was founded on a fat man in Bree; and my fear was founded on the cunning of Sauron. But fat men who sell ale have many calls to answer; and the power of Sauron is still less than fear makes it. But in the circle of Isengard, trapped and alone, it was not easy to think that the hunters before whom all have fled or fallen would falter in the Shire far away.'`I saw you!' cried Frodo. `You were walking backwards and forwards. The moon shone in your hair.'Gandalf paused astonished and looked at him. 'It was only a dream' said Frodo, `but it suddenly came back to me. I had quite forgotten it. It came some time ago; after I left the Shire, I think.'`Then it was late in coming,' said Gandalf, 'as you will see. I was in an evil plight. And those who know me will agree that I have seldom been in such need, and do not bear such misfortune well. Gandalf
my heart for my friends in the Shire; but still I had some hope. I hoped that Frodo had set forth at once, as my letter had urged, and that he xlate in coming,' said Gandalf, 'as you will see. I was in an evil plight. And those who know me will agree that I have seldom been in such need, and do not bear such misfortune well. Gandalf
Jean Beraud Boulevard des capucines paintingHenri Rousseau The Snake Charmer painting
my heart for my friends in the Shire; but still I had some hope. I hoped that Frodo had set forth at once, as my letter had urged, and that he had reached Rivendell before the deadly pursuit began. And both my fear and my hope proved ill-founded. For my hope was founded on a fat man in Bree; and my fear was founded on the cunning of Sauron. But fat men who sell ale have many calls to answer; and the power of Sauron is still less than fear makes it. But in the circle of Isengard, trapped and alone, it was not easy to think that the hunters before whom all have fled or fallen would falter in the Shire far away.'`I saw you!' cried Frodo. `You were walking backwards and forwards. The moon shone in your hair.'Gandalf paused astonished and looked at him. 'It was only a dream' said Frodo, `but it suddenly came back to me. I had quite forgotten it. It came some time ago; after I left the Shire, I think.'`Then it was late in coming,' said Gandalf, 'as you will see. I was in an evil plight. And those who know me will agree that I have seldom been in such need, and do not bear such misfortune well. Gandalf
Tuesday, December 2, 2008
Leighton A Bather
Leighton A BatherLeighton A Bather 1Ingres Queen Caroline MuratIngres Portrait Of Mademoiselle Caroline Riviere
escape, if you can. Strider can take you by paths that are seldom trodden. Will you have him?'There was a heavy silence. Frodo made no answer, his mind was confused with doubt and fear. Sam frowned, and looked at his master; and at last he broke out:'With your leave, Mr. Frodo, I'd say no! This Strider here, he warns and he says take care; and I say yes to that, and let's begin with him. He comes out of the Wild, and I never heard no good of such folk. He knows something, that's plain, and more than I like; but it's no reason why we should let him go leading us out into some dark place far from help, as he puts it.'Pippin fidgeted and looked you really know about - about my; and how do you know it?''The lesson in caution has been well learned,' said Strider with a grim smile. 'But caution uncomfortable. Strider did not reply to Sam, but turned his keen eyes on Frodo. Frodo caught his glance and looked away. 'No,' he said slowly. 'I don't agree. I think, I think you are not really as you choose to look. You began to talk to me like the Bree-folk, but your voice has changed. Still Sam seems right in this: I don't see why you should warn us to take care, and yet ask us to take you on trust. Why the disguise? Who are you? What do
escape, if you can. Strider can take you by paths that are seldom trodden. Will you have him?'There was a heavy silence. Frodo made no answer, his mind was confused with doubt and fear. Sam frowned, and looked at his master; and at last he broke out:'With your leave, Mr. Frodo, I'd say no! This Strider here, he warns and he says take care; and I say yes to that, and let's begin with him. He comes out of the Wild, and I never heard no good of such folk. He knows something, that's plain, and more than I like; but it's no reason why we should let him go leading us out into some dark place far from help, as he puts it.'Pippin fidgeted and looked you really know about - about my; and how do you know it?''The lesson in caution has been well learned,' said Strider with a grim smile. 'But caution uncomfortable. Strider did not reply to Sam, but turned his keen eyes on Frodo. Frodo caught his glance and looked away. 'No,' he said slowly. 'I don't agree. I think, I think you are not really as you choose to look. You began to talk to me like the Bree-folk, but your voice has changed. Still Sam seems right in this: I don't see why you should warn us to take care, and yet ask us to take you on trust. Why the disguise? Who are you? What do
Monday, December 1, 2008
Williams Timmy Last Surprise
Williams Timmy Last SurpriseWilliams The Ouija BoardWilliams The Myth Of The Proletariat KingWilliams The Chrysalis of DeathWilliams The Appetite That Dare Not Be Appeased
going to be thick,’ said Maggot; ‘but I’ll not light my lantern . We’ll hear anything on the road long before we meet it tonight.’It was five miles or more from Maggot’s lane to the Ferry. The hobbits wrapped themselves up, but their ears were strained for any sound above the creak of the wheels and the slow clop of the ponies’ hoofs. The waggon seemed slower than a snail to Frodo. Beside him Pippin was nodding towards approaching rider. The fall of the hoofs sounded loud in the still, foggy air.‘You’d better be hidden, Mr. Frodo,’ said Sam anxiously. ‘You get down in the waggon and cover up with blankets, and we’ll send this rider to the rightabouts!’ He climbed out and went to the farmer’s side. Black Riders would have to ride over him to get near the waggon.sleep; but Sam was staring forwards into the rising fog.They reached the entrance to the Ferry lane at last. It was marked by two tall white posts that suddenly loomed up on their right. Farmer Maggot drew in his ponies and the waggon creaked to a halt. They were just beginning lo scramble out, when suddenly they heard what they had all been dreading: hoofs on the road ahead. The sound was coming towards them.Maggot jumped down and stood holding the ponies’ heads, and peering forward into the gloom. Clip-clop, clip-clop came the
going to be thick,’ said Maggot; ‘but I’ll not light my lantern . We’ll hear anything on the road long before we meet it tonight.’It was five miles or more from Maggot’s lane to the Ferry. The hobbits wrapped themselves up, but their ears were strained for any sound above the creak of the wheels and the slow clop of the ponies’ hoofs. The waggon seemed slower than a snail to Frodo. Beside him Pippin was nodding towards approaching rider. The fall of the hoofs sounded loud in the still, foggy air.‘You’d better be hidden, Mr. Frodo,’ said Sam anxiously. ‘You get down in the waggon and cover up with blankets, and we’ll send this rider to the rightabouts!’ He climbed out and went to the farmer’s side. Black Riders would have to ride over him to get near the waggon.sleep; but Sam was staring forwards into the rising fog.They reached the entrance to the Ferry lane at last. It was marked by two tall white posts that suddenly loomed up on their right. Farmer Maggot drew in his ponies and the waggon creaked to a halt. They were just beginning lo scramble out, when suddenly they heard what they had all been dreading: hoofs on the road ahead. The sound was coming towards them.Maggot jumped down and stood holding the ponies’ heads, and peering forward into the gloom. Clip-clop, clip-clop came the
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