Thomas Kinkade Autumn Lane

Thomas Kinkade Autumn LaneJohn Collier SpringCaravaggio The Crucifixion of Saint PeterCaravaggio The Cardsharps
It could be a messenger from the Great God himself," said the woman.
"It's a said the woman hotly. "The Great God hears every irreverent word you utter!"
"Hah!" from under the statue. And the man with the tray oiled forward a little further, saying, "Klatchian Delight? Honeyed wasps? Get them while they're cold!"
"It's a point, though," said the elderly man, in a kind of boring, unstoppable voice. "I mean, there's something very godly about an eagle. King of birds, am I right?"
"It's only a better-looking turkey," said the voice from under the statue. "Brain the size of a walnutbloody eagle is what it is," said a resigned voice from somewhere among the ornamental bronze homicide at the base of the statue."Dates? Figs? Sherbets? Holy relics? Nice fresh indulgences? Lizards? Onna stick?" said the man with the tray hopefully."I thought when He appeared in the world it was as a swan or a bull," said the wooden-legged man."Hah!" said the unregarded voice of the tortoise."Always wondered about that," said a young novice at the back of the crowd. "You know . . . well . . . swans? A bit . . . lacking in machismo, yes?""May you be stoned to death for blasphemy!"