Andrea Mantegna Madonna with Sleeping Child

Andrea Mantegna Madonna with Sleeping ChildAlbert Bierstadt California SpringAlbert Bierstadt The Mountain BrookJames Jacques Joseph Tissot Journey of the MagiJules Joseph Lefebvre Mary Magdalene In The Cave
That’s just what I feel like,’ said the Dean. ‘A solid
burgher.’ j
‘Or merchants,’ said the Chair. He smoothed back his white hair.
‘Remember,’ he said, ‘if anyone says anything, we’re not wizards. Just honest merchants out for an enjoyable evening, right?’
‘What kind of disguise would false beards be?’
‘Ah! That’s the clever bit,’ said the Lecturer. ‘No‑one would suspect that anyone wearing a false beard would have a real beard underneath, would they?’
The Chair opened his mouth to refute this, and then hesitated.
‘Well‑‘ he said.
‘But where’d we get false beards at this time of night?’ said a wizard doubtfully.
The Lecturer beamed, and reached into his pocket. ‘We don’t have to,’ he said. ‘That’s does an honest merchant look like?’ said a wizard.‘How should I know?’ said the Chair. ‘So no‑one is to do any magic,’ he went on. ‘I don’t have to tell you what’ll happen if the Archchancellor hears that his staff has been seen at the common entertainments.’‘I’m more worried about our students finding out,’ shuddered the Dean.‘False beards,’ said the Lecturer in Recent Runes, triumphantly. ‘We should wear false beards.’The Chair rolled his eyes.‘We’ve all GOT beards,’ he said. ‘What

Vincent van Gogh The good Samaritan Delacroix

Vincent van Gogh The good Samaritan DelacroixVincent van Gogh A Novel ReaderLeonardo da Vinci The Virgin and Child With St AnneLeonardo da Vinci Madonna With The CarnationLeonardo da Vinci Madonna with Flower
Dibbler looked up at the troll.
‘Mr Silverfish was just leaving,’ he said. Detritus nodded, and then slowly and firmly picked up Silverfish by his collar.
Silverfish went white. ‘You can’t get rid of me like that,’ he said.
‘You want to bet?’
‘There ‘You lay a finger on me and you’ll never work in this town again!’ shouted Silverfish.
‘I got a job anyway, Mr Silverfish,’ said Detritus calmly, carrying Silverfish towards the gate. ‘I’m VicePresident of Throwing Out People Mr Dibbler Doesn’t like the Face Of.’
‘Then you’ll have to take on an assistant!’ snarled Silverfish. won’t be an alchemist in Holy Wood who’ll work for you! We’ll take the handlemen with us! You’ll be finished!’ ‘Listen! After this click the whole of Holy Wood will be coming to me for a job! Detritus, throw this bum out!’ ‘Right you are, Mr Dibbler,’ rumbled the troll, gripping Silverfish’s collar. ‘You haven’t heard the last of this, you - you scheming, devious megalomaniac!’ Dibbler removed his cigar. ‘That’s Mister Megalomaniac to you,’ he said. He replaced the cigar, and nodded significantly to the troll, who gently but firmly grasped Silverfish by a leg as well.

Sir Henry Raeburn Boy And Rabbit

Sir Henry Raeburn Boy And RabbitJean Fragonard Young Girl ReadingJean Fragonard The Stolen KissJean Fragonard The Love LetterJean Fragonard The Bolt
mean metaphorically,’ said Dibbler quickly.
‘Oh. Well. Metaphorically? I suppose not-’
‘There you are, then. Now, where’s that artist?’ Dibbler spun around, giving the impression that Silverfish had just been switched off.
A man ‘It’s got him,’ said Gaspode quietly. ‘Got him worse than anyone, I reckon.’
‘What has? How can you tell?’ Victor hissed.
‘Partly a’cos of subtle signs what you don’t seem to be abler recognize,’ said Gaspode, ‘and partly because he’s actin’ like a complete twerp, really.’
‘Great to see you!’ Dibbler enthused, his eyes glowing manically.
He put his arm round Victor’s shoulder and half walked, half dragged him scurried up with a folder under his arm. ‘Yessir, Mr Dibbler?’ Throat pulled a scrap of paper out of his pocket. ‘I want the posters ready by tonight, understand?’ he warned. ‘Here. This is the name of the click.’ ‘Shadowe of the Dessert,’ the artist read. His brow furrowed. He had been educated beyond the needs of Holy Wood. ‘It’s about food?’ he said. But Dibbler wasn’t listening. He was advancing on Victor. ‘Victor!’ he said. ‘Baby!’

John William Waterhouse Ariadne

John William Waterhouse AriadneJohn William Waterhouse A MermaidVincent van Gogh Houses at AuversVincent van Gogh Tree trunksVincent van Gogh Stairway at Auvers
I’m thinking about the bugger over Tsort way, or somewhere. He was in his bath and he had this idea for something, and he ran out down the street yelling.’
‘Yelling what?’
‘Dunno. P’raps "Give me a towel!" ‘
‘Bet he’d. ‘V’ry important fact. Mus’ make a note of it. Don’t let it get hot. V’ry important. Mus’ write down v’ry important fact.’
He tottered back into the smoking ruins.
Dibbler watched him go.
‘Wonder what that was all about?’ he said. Then he shrugged and raised his voice to a shout. ‘Meat pies! Hot sausages! Inna bun! So fresh the pig h’an’t noticed they’re gone!’ be yellin’ all right if he tried that sort of thing round here,’ said Throat cheerfully. ‘Now, ladies and gents, I have here some sausage in a bun that’d make your-’ ‘Eureka,’ said the soot-coloured one, swaying back and forth. ‘What about it?’ said Throat. ‘No, that’s the word. Eureka.’ A worried grin spread across the black features. ‘It means "I have it".’ ‘Have what?’ said Throat. ‘It. At least, I had it. Octo-cellulose. Amazing stuff. Had it in my hand. But I held it too close to the fire,’ said the figure, in the perplexed tones of the nearly concussed

Franz Marc fate animals

Franz Marc fate animalsFranz Marc Blue HorseMarc Chagall The Three CandlesMarc Chagall Paris Through the WindowMarc Chagall Adam and Eve
little sentences which are injected into difficult situations with the same general effect as a steel bar dropped into the bearings by common consent among the other twenty-six Teppicymons was spokesman, lurched on alone and picked up the trembling Koomi by his arms.
'What did you say?' he said.
Koomi's eyes rolled. His mouth opened and shut, but his voice wisely decided not to come out.
Teppicymon pushed his bandaged face close to the priest's pointed nose.
'I remember you,' he growled. 'I've seen you oiling around the place. A bad hat, if ever I saw one. I remember thinking that.'
He glared around at the others.of a 3,000 rpm, 660 megawatt steam turbine. And connoisseurs of mankind's tendency to put his pedal extremity where his tongue should be are agreed that when the judges' envelopes are opened then Hoot Koomi's fine performance in 'Begone from this place, foul shades' will be a contender for all-time bloody stupid greeting. The front row of ancestors halted, and were pushed forward a little by the press of those behind. King Teppicymon XXVII, who

Franz Marc Fate of the Animals

Franz Marc Fate of the AnimalsFranz Marc fate animalsFranz Marc Blue HorseMarc Chagall The Three CandlesMarc Chagall Paris Through the Window
been thinking about this whole pyramid business and, look, I'm not certain about it.'
Teppic leaned closer. 'Auntie sends her love,' he said loudly. He thought about this. 'That's my aunt, not yours.' I hope, he added.
'I say? I say Think it's fun, do you, spending the rest of your death under a million tons of rock, watching yourself crumble to bits? Is that your idea of a good epoch?'
'It's rather draughty in here, sire,' said Dios. 'Perhaps we should get on.'
'Anyway, you can't possibly afford it!'
'And we'll put your favourite frescoes and statues in with you. You'll like that, won't you? Can you hear me?' 'He bids you greetings from the world beyond the veil,' said Dios. 'Well, yes, I suppose I do, but LOOK, I don't want you to go to a lot of trouble and build-' 'We're going to build you a marvellous pyramid, father. You'll really like it there. There'll be people to look after you and everything.' Teppic glanced at Dios for reassurance. 'He'll like that, won't he?' 'I don't WANT one!' screamed the king. 'There's a whole interesting eternity I haven't seen yet. I forbid you to put me in a pyramid!' 'He says that is very proper, and you are a dutiful son,' said Dios. 'Can you see me? How many fingers am I holding up?

Jean-Honore Fragonard le jour

Jean-Honore Fragonard le jourJean-Honore Fragonard l'auroreJean-Honore Fragonard Cephale et ProcrisEdgar Degas DancerWilliam Beard So You Wanna Get Married
'Imagine the sensation when he put it on for the first time,' she went on. 'I expect there was an eldritch tingling sensation.'
'Actually, it felt rather—' Tomjon began, but no-one was listening to him. He shrugged and leaned over to Hwel, who was still scribbling busily.
'Does eldritch mean uncomfortable?' he hissed.
The dwarf looked at him with unfocused eyes.
'What?'hoarsely. 'Everyone says I take after dad!'
'Funny thing, all this taking after people,' said the dwarf vaguely. 'I mean, if I took after my dad, I'd be a hundred feet underground digging rocks, whereas—' His voice died away. He stared at the nib of his pen as though it held an incredible fascination.
'Whereas what?''I said, does eldritch mean uncomfortable?''Eh? Oh. No. No, I shouldn't think so.''What does it mean then?''Dunno. Oblong, I think.' Hwel's glance returned to his scrawls as though magnetised. 'Can you remember what he said after all those tomorrows? I didn't catch the bit after that . . .''And there wasn't any need for you to tell everyone I was – adopted,' said Tomjon.'That's how it was, you see,' said the dwarf vaguely. 'Best to be honest about these things. Now then, did he actually stab her, or just accuse her?''I don't want to be a king!' Tomjon whispered

Jean-Honore Fragonard Cephale et Procris

Jean-Honore Fragonard Cephale et ProcrisEdgar Degas DancerWilliam Beard So You Wanna Get MarriedWilliam Beard Phantom CraneWilliam Beard Owls
'Excuse me,' said Magrat, louder this time. 'Who was Black Aliss? And,' she added quickly, 'none of this exchanging meaningful glances and talking over my head. There's three witches in this coven, remember?'
'She was before your time,' said Nanny Ogg. 'Before mine, really. She lived over Skunid way. Very powerful witch.'
'If you listen to rumour,' said Granny.
'She turned a pumpkin into a royal coach once,' said Nanny.
'Showy,' said Granny Weatherwax. 'That's no help to anyone, turning up at a ball smelling like a pie. And that business 'And you're going to send the castle to sleep?' said Magrat.
'She never sent the castle to sleep,' said Granny. 'That's just an old wives' tale,' she added, glaring at Nanny. 'She just stirred up time a little. It's not as hard as people think. Everyone does it all the time. It's like rubber, is time. You can stretch it to suit yourself.'with the glass slipper. Dangerous, to my mind.''But the biggest thing she ever did,' said Nanny, ignoring the interruption, 'was to send a whole palace to sleep for a hundred years until. . .' She hesitated. 'Can't remember. Was there rose bushes involved, or was it spinning wheels in that one? I think some princess had to finger . . . no, there was a prince. That was it.''Finger a prince?' said Magrat, uneasily.'No . . .he had to kiss her. Very romantic, Black Aliss was. There was always a bit of romance in her spells. She liked nothing better than Girl meets Frog.''Why did they call her Black Aliss?''Fingernails,' said Granny.'And teeth,' said Nanny Ogg. 'She had a sweet tooth. Lived in a real gingerbread cottage. Couple of kids shoved her in her own oven at the end. Shocking.'

warmth by volk

warmth by volkUnknown Artist James Wiens Birch Silhouette IPablo Picasso the dogUnknown Artist Still Life with Musical InstrumentsUnknown Artist Pieter Claesz Still Life
listen to me, sweetheart,' he said. 'You ain't the first witch we've had down here, if witch you be, but you could be lucky and walk out again. If you are nice to us, d'you see?'
There was a shrill, short scream from somewhere nearby.
'Let her go this minute!' he shouted. 'Or I'll report you!'
'Oh, you'll report us, will you?' said Hron. 'And will anyone listen to you, you earwax-coloured little twerp?'
'This is a witch we have here,' said the other guard. 'So you can go and tinkle somewhere else.' He turned back to Magrat. 'I like a girl with spirit,' he said, incorrectly as it turned out.
The Fool advanced with the bravery of the terminally angry.'That, you see,' said the guard, 'was a witch having it the hard way. You could do us all a favour, see? Lucky you met us, really.'His questing hand stopped its wandering. 'What's this?' he said to Magrat's pale face. 'A knife? A knife? I reckon we've got to take that very seriously, don't you, Hron?''You got to tie her hands and gag her,' said Hron hurriedly.'They can't do no magic if they can't speak or wave their hands about . . .''You can take your hands off her!'All three stared down the passage at the Fool. He was jingling with rage.

Tom Thomson Woodland Waterfall

Tom Thomson Woodland WaterfallTom Thomson The PoolTom Thomson the jack pineTom Thomson Jack PineRodney White Nothing to Dream
Even the land, at times, seems alive . . .

At times, so does the sky.
The storm was really giving it everything it had. This was its big chance. It had spent years hanging around the provinces, already been pointed out, play games other than chess with the fates of mortals and the thrones of kings. It is important to remember that they always cheat, right up to the end . . .
And a coach came hurtling along the rough forest track, jerking violently as the wheels bounced off tree roots. The driver lashed at the team, the desperate crack of his whip providing a rather neat counterpoint to the crash of the tempest overhead.putting in some useful work as a squall, building up experience, making contacts, occasionally leaping out on unsuspecting shepherds or blasting quite small oak trees. Now an opening in the weather had given it an opportunity to strut its hour, and it was building up its role in the hope of being spotted by one of the big climates.It was a good storm. There was quite effective projection and passion there, and critics agreed that if it would only learn to control its thunder it would be, in years to come, a storm to watch.The woods roared their applause and were full of mists and flying leaves.On nights such as these the gods, as has

Fabian Perez Waiting For the Romance to Come Back II

Fabian Perez Waiting For the Romance to Come Back IIFabian Perez VeniceFabian Perez For a Better Life III
They're always telling folk how much better it's going to be when they're dead. We tell them it could be pretty good right here if only they'd put their minds to it.'
Mort up by a couple of others in the depths of the forest. Mort had never heard anything so mournful.
He glanced sideways at the still figure of Goodie Hamstring and then, with mounting panic, at the hourglass. He sprang to his feet, snatched up the scythe, and brought it around in a two-handed swing.
The witch stood up, leaving her body behind.
'Well done,' she said. 'I thought you'd missed it, for a minute, there.'hesitated. He wanted to say: you're wrong, he's not like that at all, he doesn't care if people are good or bad so long as they're punctual. And kind to cats, he added.But he thought better of it. It occurred to him that people needed to believe things.The wolf howled again, so near that Mort looked around apprehensively. Another one across the valley answered it. The chorus was picked

Vincent van Gogh Souvenir de Mauve

Vincent van Gogh Souvenir de MauveVincent van Gogh Peach Tree in BloomVincent van Gogh The Red Vineyard
'Excuse me,' said Mort, 'are you really?'
'Really what?'
'Master of the thingy, Lord High Wossname of the Sacred Dungeons?'
Cutwell pushed back his hood with an annoyed flourish. Instead of the grey-bearded mystic Mort had expected he saw a round, rather plump face, pink and white like a pork pie, which it somewhat resembled in other respects. For example, like most pork pies, it didn't have a beard and, like most pork pies, it looked basically good-humoured.
'In a Mort hesitated, and then put the bag of gold coins on the table. The wizard glanced at them, made a little whinnying noise in the back of his throat, and reached out, Mort's figurative sense,' he said.'What does that mean?''Well, it means no,' said the wizard. 'It's a kind of magic I've been working on. What was it you were wanting, anyway?' He leered suggestively. 'A love philtre, yes? Something to encourage the young ladies?''Is it possible to walk through walls?' said Mort desperately. Cutwell paused with his hand already halfway to a large bottle full of sticky liquid.'Using magic?''Um,' said Mort, 'I don't think so.'Then pick very thin walls,' said Cutwell. 'Better still, use the door. The one over there would be favourite, if you've just come here to waste my time.'

Edmund Blair Leighton God Speed

Edmund Blair Leighton God SpeedEdmund Blair Leighton The AccoladeIvan Constantinovich Aivazovsky The Ninth Wave
Although it was well after midnight the twin city of Ankh-Morpork was roaringhad turmoil of the street around him the town was, well, a morgue.
Poets have tried to describe Ankh-Morpork. They have failed. Perhaps it's the sheer zestful vitality of the place, or . Mort had half expected him to pass through the crowds like smoke, but it wasn't like that at all. The simple truth was that wherever Death walked, people just drifted out of the way.
It didn't work like that for Mort. The crowds that gently parted for hismaybe it's just that a city with a million inhabitants and no sewers is rather robust for poets, who prefer daffodils and no wonder. So let's just say that Ankh-Morpor cheese on a hot day, as loud as a curse in a cathedral, as bright as an oil slick, as colourful as a bruise and as full of activity, industry, bustle and sheer exuberant busyness as a dead dog on a termite mound.There were temples, their doors wide open, filling the streets with the sounds of gongs, cymbals and, in the case of some of the more conservative fundamentalist religions, the brief screams of the victims. There were shops whose strange wares spilled out on to the pavement. There seemed to be rather a lot of friendly young ladies who couldn't afford many clothes. There were flares, and jugglers, and assorted sellers of instant transcendence.And Death stalked through it all

Paul Klee Around the Fish

Paul Klee Around the FishPaul Klee Ancient SoundRene Magritte Homesickness
in her hearts of hearts, she was too embarrassed; she felt like a farrier who could shoe horses, cure them, rear them and judge them, but had only the sketchiest idea about how one rode them.
She pasted the label on to the phial and wrapped it carefully in plain paper.
Now.
"There is another way into the University," she said, looking sidelong at Esk, who was making a disgruntled job of mashing herbs in a mortar. "A witches' way."
Esk . "I said I'd find a way, didn't I? A very good way, too. You won't have to bother with lessons, you can go all over the place, no one will notice you you'll be invisible really - and, well, you can really clean up. But of course, after all that laughing, you won't be interested. Will you?"
"Pray have another cup of tea, Mrs Weatherwax?" said Mrs Whitlow.
"Mistress," said Granny.
"Pardon?"looked up. Granny treated herself to a thin smile and started work on another label; writing labels was always the hard part of magic, as far as she was concerned. "But I don't expect you'd be interested," she went on. "It's not very glamorous." "They laughed at me," Esk mumbled. "Yes. You said. So you won't be wanting to try again, then. I quite understand." There was silence broken only by the scratching of Granny's pen. Eventually Esk said: "This way -" "Mmph?" "It'll get me into the University?" "Of course," said Granny haughtily

Titian Sacred and Profane Love

Titian Sacred and Profane LoveFrancisco de Goya The ParasolBartolome Esteban Murillo Madonna and Child
She picked it up and smashed it against the doors. There was a shower of octarine sparks, but the black metal was unscathed.
Esk's eyes narrowed. She held the staff at arm's length and concentrated until a thin line of fire leapt from the wood and burst against the gate. The ice flashed into steam but the darkness - she was sure now that it wasn't metal - absorbed the power without so much as glowing. She doubled the energy, letting the staff put all its storedmost unpleasant sounds Esk had ever heard.
She woke up shivering. It was long after midnight and the stars looked damp and chilly; the air was full of the busy silence of the night, which is created by hundreds of small furry things treading very carefully in the hope of finding dinner while avoiding being the main course.
A crescent moon was setting and a thin grey glow towards the rim of the world suggested magic into a beam that was now so bright that she had to shut her eyes /and could still see it as a brilliant line in her mind/. Then it winked out. After a few seconds Esk ran forward and touched the doors gingerly. The coldness nearly froze her fingers off. And from the battlements above she could hear the sound of sniggering. Laughter wouldn't have been so bad, especially an impressive demonic laugh with lots of echo, but this was just -sniggering. It went on for a long time. It was one of the

Claude Monet Poplars

Claude Monet PoplarsJohannes Vermeer View Of DelftJohannes Vermeer The Kitchen Maid
and pumped the bellows until the flames roared up the chimney.
When she was satisfied she turned, muttered a few precautionary protective spells under her breath, and grabbed the staff. It didn't resist; she nearly fell over. But now she had it in her hands, and felt the tingle of it, the distinctive thunderstorm crackle of the magic in it, and she laughed.Granny was old and tired and not entirely clear about things after a long day, but to survive as a witch requires an ability to jump to very large conclusions and as she stared at the staff in the flames and heard the scream her hands were already reaching for the big black kettle. She upended it over the fire, dragged the staff out of the cloud of steam, and ran upstairs, dreading what she might see.
It was as simple as this, then. There was no fight in it now.
Calling down a curse upon wizards and all their works she raised the staff above her head and brought it down with a clang across the firedogs, over the hottest part of the fire.

Edward Hopper Hills South Truro

Edward Hopper Hills South TruroEdward Hopper High RoadEdward Hopper First Row OrchestraEdward Hopper El Palacio
Rincewind swallowed. 'Tall man?' he said. 'Fair hair, looks a bit like a ferret?'
'Now that you mention it —'
'He was in my class,' said Rincewind. 'They always said he'd go a long way.'
'He'll go a lot further if he opens the book,' said one of the wizards, who was hastily rolling a cigarette in shaking fingers.
'Why?' said Twoflower. 'What will happen?'
The wizards looked at one another.
'It's an ancient secret, handed down from mage to mage, and we can't pass it on to knowlessmen,' said Wert.
'Oh, go on,' said Twoflower.
'Oh well, it probably doesn't matter any more. One mind can't hold all the spells. It'll break down, and leave a hole.'than the Disc's own moon, and each was in shadow except for a pink crescent where it caught the light of the star.
But in front of everything the top of the Tower of Art was an incandescent fury

Marc Chagall The Wedding Candles

Marc Chagall The Wedding CandlesMarc Chagall The Cattle DealerMarc Chagall Lovers in the MoonlightMarc Chagall Le Champ de Mars
sad.' She brightened. 'But come and meet him – he's got his friends in tonight, I'm sure hell be interested to see you. He doesn't meet many people socially. Nor do I, actually,' she added.
'Sorry,' said Rincewind. 'Have I got it right? We're talking about Death, yes? Tall, thin, empty eye-sockets, handy in the scythe department?'
She sighed. 'Yes. His looks are against him, I'm afraid.'
While it was true that, as has already been indicated, Rincewind was to magic what a bicycle is to a bumblebee, he nevertheless retained one privilege available to practitioners of the art, which was that at the point of death it would be This is what the voices were saying:
WOULD YOU MIND EXPLAINING THAT AGAIN?
Well, if you return anything except a trump, South will be able to get in his two ruffs, losing only one Turtle, one Elephant and one Major Arcana, then —'Death himself who turned up to claim him (instead of delegating the job to a lesser mythological anthropomorphic personification, as is usually the case). Owing largely to inefficiency Rincewind had consistently failed to die at the right time, and if there is one thing that Death does not like it is unpunctuality.'Look, I expect my friend has just wandered off somewhere,' he said. 'He's always doing that, voices on the other side – eldritch voices, the sort of voices that mere typography will remain totally unable to convey until someone can make a linotype machine with echo-reverb and, possibly, a typeface that looks like something said by a slug.

Caravaggio Beheading of Saint John the Baptist

Caravaggio Beheading of Saint John the BaptistJohannes Vermeer Woman with a Pearl NecklaceJohannes Vermeer Saint PraxidisJohannes Vermeer Lady Standing at a Virginal
Galder broke off first – looking hard at Trymon always bothered him. It had the same disconcerting effect as gazing into a mirror and seeing no-one there.
'Anyway,' heGalder got to his feet and shuffled across to the forge, which was now cold. The strand of magic still writhed, though, at once present and not present, like a slit cut into another universe full of hot blue light. He picked it p easily, took a longbow from a rack, said a word of power, and watched with satisfaction as the magic grasped the ends of the bow and then tightened until the wood creaked. Then lie selected an arrow. said, 'strangely enough, I found assistance elsewhere. In my own modest bookshelves, in fact. The journal of Skrelt Changebasket, the founder of our order. You, my keen young man who would rush off so soon, do you know what happens when a wizard dies?''Any spells he has memorised say themselves,' said Trymon. 'It is one of the first things we learn.''In fact it is not true of the original Eight Great Spells. By dint of close study Skrelt learned that a Great Spell will simply take refuge in the nearest mind open and ready to receive it. Just push the big mirror over here, will you?'

Joaquin Sorolla y Bastida Sewing the Sail

Joaquin Sorolla y Bastida Sewing the SailJoaquin Sorolla y Bastida Ninos en el MarJoaquin Sorolla y Bastida Leaving the BathJoaquin Sorolla y Bastida Children on the Beach
found himself looking at a rather squat but not particularly ugly old man who would quite easily have passed for normal on any city street, always provided that other people on the street were used to seeing old men who were up the beach. The troll was a pleasant translucent blue colour. As Rincewind stared a small shoal of silver fish flashed across its chest.
"It's rude to stare," said the troll. Its mouth opened with a little crest of foam, and shut again in exactly the same way that water closes over a stone."
"Is it? Why?" asked Rincewind. How does he hold himself together, his mind screamed at him. Whyapparently composed of water and very little else. It was as if the ocean had decided to create life without going through all that tedious Business of evolution, and had simply formed a part of itself into a biped and sent it walking squishily