John Singer Sargent paintings

John Singer Sargent paintings
Jean-Leon Gerome paintings
Lorenzo Lotto paintings
happen to like this bad set. I like getting drunk at luncheon, and though I haven’t yet spent quite double my allowance, I undoubtedly shall before the end of term. I usually have a glass of champagne about this time. Will you join me?’
So my cousin Jasper despaired and, I learned later, wrote to his father on the subject of my excesses who, in his turn, wrote to my father, who took no action or particular thought in the matter, partly because he had disliked my uncle for nearly sixty years and partly because, as Jasper had said, he lived in his own world now, since my mother’s death.
Thus, in broad outline, Jasper sketched the more prominent features of my first year; some detail may be added on the same scale.
I had committed myself earlier to spend the Easter vacation with Collins and, though I would have broken my word without compunction and left my former friend friendless, had Sebastian made a sign, no sign was made;

Douglas Hofmann paintings

Douglas Hofmann paintings
Diane Romanello paintings
Diego Rivera paintings
And Antony was weak and burdened with his chain but there was pain in him which raised him from his corner; and he spoke no word but crept to Elizabeth, who had been his lover, silently, as the foul things on the walls. And she rose in alarm and made to escape him, but he caught at her ankle and drew her to the floor. And between his hands was the heavy chain and he stretched it across her throat and knelt on the two ends between his wrists so that the great links pressed into her neck. And Elizabeth, who had been his lover, struggled with him, but the pain lent him strength and he prevailed; and the struggling of her hands ceased and thus the Lady Elizabeth died.
And so the turnkey found them when he returned; and he uttered a cry and the flask of wine slipped from his fingers and scattered itself on the wet floor. And he ran to where the Lady Elizabeth lay and laid his hand on her breast and knew that she was dead. And spoke no word but left her with Antony and shut the great door and locked it and threw the key into the Castle moat. And he never returned to the cell to tend the body of Elizabeth, for he had known love there.

Edgar Degas paintings

Edgar Degas paintings
Emile Munier paintings
Edwin Lord Weeks paintings
he suddenly recognized in the clash of blades a worthy swordsman.
“Barbara’s mother has the best financial advice,” he said.
“By the way, where is Barbara? She arranged to meet me here.”
“She’s having a bath in Claridges.”
“I ought to go over and see her. I’m taking her out to lunch. You couldn’t lend me a fiver, could you?”
“Yes,” said Basil. “Certainly.”
If Albright had known him better he would have taken alarm at this urbanity. All he thought was: “Old crusty’s a much softer job than anyone told me.” And Basil thought: “I hope he spends it all on luncheon. That banknote is all he will ever get. He deserved better.”
Sonia Trumpington had never remarried. She shared a flat with her son Robin but saw little

Andrea Mantegna paintings

Andrea Mantegna paintings
Arthur Hughes paintings
Albert Bierstadt paintings
o’clock. He let himself into what should have been the empty and silent house. came from the room on the ground floor where small parties congregated before luncheon and dinner. It was a dark room, hung with tapestry and furnished with Bühl. There he found his daughter, dressed in pajamas and one of her mother’s fur coats, seated on the floor with her face caressing a transistor radio. Behind her in the fireplace large lumps of coal lay on the ashes of the sticks and paper which had failed to kindle them.
“Darling Pobble, never more welcome. I didn’t expect you till Monday and I should have been dead by then. I can’t make out how the central heating works. I thought the whole point of it was it just turned on and didn’t need a man. Can’t get the fire to burn. And don’t start: ‘Babs, what are you doing here?’ I’m freezing, that’s what.”
“Turn that damn thing off.”
In the silence Barbara regarded her father more intently. “Darling, what have they been doing to you? You aren’t yourself at all. You’re tottering. Not my fine stout Pobble at all.

Vladimir Volegov paintings

Vladimir Volegov paintings
Vincent van Gogh paintings
Vittore Carpaccio paintings
Disembodied’ is the word. Perhaps I need a drink. In fact I know I do. This whole B of Babs has come as a shock—at a most unsuitable time. I might go and see the booby doctor.”
And, later, he set off along the corridor which led to the administrative office. He set off but had hardly hobbled six short paces when his newly sharpened con stabbed him. Was this the etherealized, the reborn Basil slinking off like a schoolboy to seek the permission of a booby doctor for a simple adult indulgence? He turned aside and made for the gym.
There he found two large ladies in bathing-dresses sitting astride a low horse. They swallowed hastily and brushed crumbs from their lips. A rubbery young man in vest and shorts addressed him sternly: “One moment, sir. You can’t come in here without an appointment.”
“My visit is unprofessional,” said Basil. “I want a word with you.”
The young man looked doubtful. Basil drew his note case from his pocket and tapped it on the knob of his cane.

Louis Aston Knight paintings

Louis Aston Knight paintings
Leon Bazile Perrault paintings
Leon-Augustin L'hermitte paintings
Heavens, I don’t know,” said Barbara.
“Good evening,” said Basil.
“Oh, good evening. Where do you keep the whisky?”
“It is a fancy dress party?” Basil asked.
“Not particularly,” said the young man.
“What have you got there?”
“Champagne of some kind. I didn’t notice the label.”
“He’s got the Cliquot rosé,” said Basil.
“How clever of him,” said Barbara.
“It will probably do,” said the young man. “Though most people prefer whisky.”
Basil attempted to speak but found no words.
Barbara quoted:
“‘His Aunt Jobiska made him drink
Lavender water tinged with pink,
For the world in general knows
There’s nothing so good for a Pobble’s toes.’

“Come along, Charles, I think we’ve got all we’re going to get here. I sense a grudging hospitality.”
She skipped downstairs, waved from the hall and was out of the front

Vincent van Gogh Red vineyards painting

Vincent van Gogh Red vineyards paintingVincent van Gogh Mulberry Tree paintingVincent van Gogh Bedroom Arles painting
no more trouble. We cannot live as we are here. When winter comes we shall all die. We hear aeroplanes almost every night. Three aeroplanes could take us all. We have no luggage left.”
“My dear madam, those aeroplanes are carrying essential war equipment, they are taking out wounded and officials. I’m very sorry you are having a hard time, but so are plenty of other people in this country. It won’t last long now. We’ve got the Germans on the run. I hope by Christmas to be in Zagreb.”
“We must say nothing against the partisans?”
“Not to me. Look here, let me give you a cup of cocoa. Then I have work to do.”
He went to the window and called to Bakic for cocoa and biscuits. While it was coming the lawyer said in English: “We were better in Rab.” Then suddenly all three broke into a chatter of polyglot complaint, about their house, about their property which

Paul Cezanne Table Corner painting

Paul Cezanne Table Corner paintingWilliam Bouguereau Innocence paintingBill Brauer The Gold Dress painting
farmhouse half a mile outside the town and the services of an interpreter who had lived for some years in the United States and spoke English of a kind. This man, Bakic, was in the secret police. His duty was to keep Major Gordon under close attention and to report every evening at OZNA headquarters. Major Gordon’s predecessor had warned him of this man’s proclivities, but Major Gordon was sceptical for such things were beyond his experience. Three Slav widows were also attached to the household. They slept in a loft and acted as willing and tireless servants.
After breakfast on the third day Bakic announced to Major Gordon: “Dere’s de Jews outside.”
“What Jews?”
“Dey been dere two hour, maybe more. I said to wait.”
“What do they want?”
“Dey’re Jews. I reckon dey always want sometin. Dey want see de British major. I said to wait.”
“Well, ask them to come in.”
“Dey can’t come in. Why, dere’s more’n a hundred of dem.”

Vincent van Gogh The Starry Night painting

Vincent van Gogh The Starry Night paintingFrank Dicksee La Belle Dame Sans Merci paintingSandro Botticelli The Birth of Venus painting
ration for three months ...” Elizabeth talked brightly as she began to arrange the luggage. “There’s a room for each of us. This is the only proper living room, but there’s a study in case you feel like doing any work. I believe we shall be quite comfortable ...”
The living room was built with two stout bays, each with a french window opening on a balcony which overhung the sea. John opened one and the sea-wind filled the room. He stepped out, breathed deeply, and then said suddenly: “Hullo, this is dangerous.”
At one place, between the windows, the cast-iron balustrade had broken away and the stone ledge lay open over the cliff. He looked at the gap and at the foaming rocks below, momentarily puzzled. The irregular polyhedron of memory rolled uncertainly and came to rest.
He had been here before, a few weeks ago, on the gallery of the lighthouse in that swiftly forgotten film. He stood there, looking down. It was exactly thus that the waves had come swirling over the rocks, had broken and dropped back with the spray falling about them

Raphael Saint George and the Dragon painting

Raphael Saint George and the Dragon paintingPablo Picasso The Old Guitarist paintingPablo Picasso Girl Before a Mirror painting
and consummation were tepid, cousinly, harmonious. They agreed, in face of the coming war, to remain childless. No one knew what Elizabeth felt or thought about anything. Her judgments were mainly negative, deep or dull as you cared to take them. She had none of the appearance of a woman likely to inflame great hate.
John Verney was discharged from the Army early in 1945 with an M.C. and one leg, for the future, two inches shorter than the other. He found Elizabeth living in Hampstead with her parents, his uncle and aunt. She had kept him informed by letter of the changes in her condition but, preoccupied, he had not clearly imagined them. Their flat had been requisitioned by a government office; their furniture and books sent to a repository and totally lost, partly burned by a bomb, partly pillaged by firemen. Elizabeth, who was a linguist, had gone to work in a clandestine branch of the Foreign Office.
Her parents’ house had once been a substantial Georgian villa overlooking the Heath. John Verney arrived there early in the morning after a crowded night’s journey from Liverpool

Unknown Artist Audrey Hepburn pop art painting

Unknown Artist Audrey Hepburn pop art paintingClaude Monet Wheatfield under a Cloudy Sky paintingClaude Monet Bridge over a Pool of Water Lilies painting
Saturday 27th. Things very dull in school. Luckily Peacock forgot to set any preparation. Pop. Sci. in last period. Tamplin and Mercer got some of the weights that are so precious they are kept in a glass case and picked up with tweezers, made them red hot on a Bunsen burner and dropped them in cold water. A witty thing to do. House—Under Sixteen team against a mixed side. They have put Wykham-Blake centre-half and me in a godless place. Library again. Curtis-Dunne buttonholed me again. He drawled “My father is in parliament but he is a very unenlightened conservative. I of course am a socialist. That’s the reason I chucked the Navy.” I said, “Or did they chuck you?” “The pangs of parting were endured by both sides with mutual stoicism.” He spoke of Frank as “essentially a well-intentioned fellow.” Sunday tomorrow thank God. I may be able to get on with illuminating “The Bells of Heaven.”
Normally on Sundays there was a choice of service. Matins at a quarter to eight or Communion at quarter past. On the first Sunday of term there was Choral Communion for all at eight o’clock.
The chapel was huge, bare, and still unfinished, one of the great monuments of the Oxford

Jean Francois Millet Man with a hoe painting

Jean Francois Millet Man with a hoe paintingHerbert James Draper The Water Nymph paintingHerbert James Draper Pot Pourri painting
You never try painting from nature?”
“Never, sir.”
“It seems rather a crabbed, shut-in sort of pursuit for a boy of your age. Still, that’s your own .”
“Yes, sir.”
“Difficult chap to talk to, aren’t you, Charles?”
“Not with everyone. Not with Frank,” Charles wished to say; “I could talk to Frank by the hour.” Instead he said, “I suppose I am, sir.”
“Well, I want to talk to you. I dare say you feel you have been a little ill-used this term. Of course, all your year are in rather a difficult position. Normally there would have been seven or eight people leaving at the end of last term but with the war coming to an end they are staying on an extra year, trying for University scholarships and so on. Only Sugdon left, so instead of a general move there was only one vacancy at the top. That meant only one vacancy on the Settle. I dare say you think you ought to have had it.”
“No, sir. There were two people ahead of me.”

Edward Hopper Early Sunday Morning painting

Edward Hopper Early Sunday Morning paintingLeroy Neiman Ryder Cup paintingLeroy Neiman 37th Ryder Cup painting
To keep his hands in his pockets thus—with his coat back and the middle button alone fastened—was now his privilege, for he was in his third year. He could also wear coloured socks and was indeed at the moment wearing a pair of heliotrope silk with white clocks, purchased the day before in Jermyn Street. There were several things, formerly forbidden, which were now his right. He could link his arm in a friend’s and he did so now, strolling across to Hall arm-in-arm with Tamplin.
They paused at the top of the steps and stared out in the gloaming. To their left the great bulk of the chapel loomed immensely; below them the land fell away in terraces to the playing fields with their dark fringe of elm; headlights moved continuously up and down the coast road; the estuary was just traceable, a lighter streak across the grey lowland, before it merged into the calm and invisible sea.
“Same old view,” said Tamplin.
“Give me the lights of London,” said Charles. “I say, it’s rotten luck for you about the Settle.”

Paul Klee Paintings

Paul Klee (Dec18, 1879 - Jun29, 1940) was a Swiss painter of German nationality. He was influenced by many different art styles in his work, including cubism, surrealism and expressionism. He was a student of orientalism. Paul Klee and his friend, the Russian painter Wassily Kandinsky, were also famous for teaching at the Bauhaus school of art and architecture. You can browse those Paul Klee Paintings here.

Throughout his career, Paul Klee used colour in a variety of unique and diverse means, in a relationship that has progressed and evolved in a variety of ways. For an artist that loved so much of the natural world, it seems rather odd that Klee originally despised color, believing that it was in itself, little more than a decoration to a work.
Eventually, Klee would learn to manipulate color with great skill and passion coming to teach lessons on colour mixing and color theory to students at the Bauhaus. This progression in itself is of great interest because his views on colour would ultimately allow him to write about it from a unique viewpoint among his contemporaries. I love these paintings by Paul Klee, Flora on Sand ,Red Bridge and heroic Roses