Leonardo da Vinci paintings

Leonardo da Vinci paintingsMichael Austin paintings
thus alone are peace and freedom maintained in the lands behind us, bulwark of the West. But if the passages of the River should be won, what then?`Yet that hour, maybe, is not now far away. The Nameless Enemy has arisen again. Smoke rises once more from Orodruin that we call Mount Doom. The power of the Black Land grows and we are hard beset. When the Enemy returned our folk were driven from Ithilien, our fair domain east of the River, though we kept a foothold there and strength of arms. But this very year, in the days of June, sudden war came upon us out of Mordor, and we were swept away. We were outnumbered, for Mordor has allied itself with the Easterlings and the cruel Haradrim; but it was not by numbers that we
Montague Dawson paintingsMaxfield Parrish paintings
said that it could be seen, like a great black horseman, a dark shadow under the moon. Wherever he came a madness filled our foes, but fear fell on our boldest, so that horse and man gave way and fled. Only a remnant of our eastern force came back, destroying the last bridge that still stood amid the ruins of Osgiliath.'I was in the company that held the bridge, until it was cast down behind us. Four only were saved by swimming: my brother and myself and two others. But still we fight on, holding all the west shores of Anduin; and those who shelter behind us give us praise, if ever they hear our name: much praise but little help. Only from Rohan now will any men ride to us when we call.`In this evil hour I have come on an errand over many dangerous leagues to Elrond: a hundred

Leader Derwentwater From Ladore Morning With Skiddaw In The Distance

Leader Derwentwater From Ladore Morning With Skiddaw In The DistanceLeader A Peep Through The PinesHarlamoff The Flower GirlHarlamoff Auburn-haired Beauty with Bouqet of Roses
what of your own people?' asked Frodo.`There is much to tell, good and bad,' said Glóin; 'yet it is mostly good: we have so far been fortunate, though we do not escape the shadow of these times. If you really wish to hear of us, I will tell you tidings gladly. But stop me when you are weary! Dwarves' tongues run on when speaking of their handiwork, they say.'And with that Glóin embarked on a long account of the doings of the Dwarf-from his couch to his chair at table, and it took six young dwarves to lift him.'And what has become of Balin and Ori and Óin?' asked Frodo.A shadow passed over Glóin's face. `We do not know,' he answered. 'It is largely on account of Balin that I have come to ask the advice of those that dwell in Rivendell. But tonight let us speak of merrier things!'Glóin began then to talk of the works of his people, telling Frodo about their great labours in Dale kingdom. He was delighted to have found so polite a listener; for Frodo showed no sign of weariness and made no attempt to change the subject, though actually he soon got rather lost among the strange names of people and places that he had never heard of before. He was interested, however, to hear that Dáin was still King under the Mountain, and was now old (having passed his two hundred and fiftieth year), venerable, and fabulously rich. Of the ten companions who had survived the Battle of Five Armies seven were still with him: Dwalin, Glóin, Dori, Nori, Bifur, Bofur, and Bombur. Bombur was now so fat that he could not move himself

Kinkade Homestead House

Kinkade Homestead HouseKlimt Water Serpents IIKlimt The Tree of Life Stoclet FriezeKlimt The Tree of Life 1909
Prancing PonyBree was the chief village of the Bree-land, a small inhabited region, like an island in the empty lands round about. Besides Bree itself, there was Staddle on the other side of the hill, Combe in a deep valley a little further eastward, and Archet on the edge of the Chetwood. Lying round Bree-hill and the villages was a small country of fields and tamed woodland only a few miles broad.The Men of Bree were brown-haired, when the memory of the old Kings had faded into the grass.In those days no other Men had settled dwellings so far west, or within a hundred leagues of the Shire. But in the wild lands beyond Bree there were mysterious wanderers. The Bree-folk called them Rangers, and knew nothing of their origin. They were taller and darker than the Men of Bree and were broad, and rather short, cheerful and independent: they belonged to nobody but themselves; but they were more friendly and familiar with Hobbits, Dwarves, Elves, and other inhabitants of the world about them than was (or is) usual with Big People. According to their own tales they were the original inhabitants and were the descendants of the first Men that ever wandered into the West of the middle-world. Few had survived the turmoils of the Elder Days; but when the Kings returned again over the Great Sea they had found the Bree-men

Matisse Interior with Phonograph

Matisse Interior with PhonographMatisse Interior with Etruscan VaseMatisse Interior with a GirlMatisse Interior in Aubergines
into the billowing clouds of steam. "Just seen him! And guess what he's doing? Snogging Victoire!"

He gazed up at the adults, evidently disappointed by the lack of reaction.

　　　"Our Teddy! Teddy Lu"He already comes round for dinner about four times a week," said Harry "Why don't we just invite him to live with is and have done with pin! Snogging our Victoire! Our cousin! And I asked teddy what he was doing --"

"You interrupted them?" said Ginny. "You are so like Ron --"

　　　"-- and he said he'd come to see her off! And then he told me to go away. He's snogging her!" James added as though worried he had not made himself clear.

　　　"Oh, it would be lovely if they got married!" whispered Lily ecstatically. "Teddy would really be part of the family then!"

Aivazovsky Moonlit Seascape With Shipwreck

Aivazovsky Moonlit Seascape With ShipwreckAivazovsky Figures In A Coastal Landscape At SunsetAivazovsky Bracing the WavesAivazovsky Fishermen on the Shore
Xenophilius had dapper at Bill and by comparison.

　"What? What is it? Who are you? What do you want?" he cried in a high-pitched, querulous voice, looking first at Hermione, then at Ron, and finally at Harry, upon which his mouth fell open in a perfect, comical O.

　"Hello, Mr. Lovegood," said Harry, holding out his hand, "I'm Harry, Harry Potter."

　Xenophilius did not take Harry's hand, although the eye that was not pointing inward at his nose slid straight to the scar on Harry's forehead.

　"Would it be okay if we came in?" asked Harry. "There's something we'd like to ask you."

　"I . . . I'm not sure that's advisable," whispered Xenophilius, He swallowed and cast a quick look around the . "Rather a shock . . . My word . . . I . . . I'm afraid I don't really think I ought to ---"

Edmund Blair Leighton The End of The Song painting

Edmund Blair Leighton The End of The Song paintingFrank Dicksee Romeo and Juliet paintingJohn Singleton Copley Watson and the Shark painting
inquiry. "And, baba, listen, it is that Gibreel. Gibreel Farishta, who the papers say . . ." her voice trailed off and she chewed, fretfully, at the nails on her left hand.
"Where is he?"
"What to do, I was afraid," Kasturba cried. "I told him, in your father's study, he is waiting there only. But maybe it is better you don't go. Should I call the police? Baapu ré, that such a thing."
_No. Don't call. I'll go see what he wants_.
Gibreel was sitting on Changez's bed with the old lamp in his hands. He was wearing a dirty white kurta-pajama outfit and looked like a man who had been sleeping rough. His eyes were unfocused, lightless, dead. "Spoono," he said wearily, waving the lamp in the direction

Edward Hopper A Woman in the Sun painting

Edward Hopper A Woman in the Sun paintingJuan Gris Woman with a Basket paintingJuan Gris Violin and Glass painting
wrong? We don't even know what it is. So what I thought was, you can either break your heart trying to work it all out, or you can go sit on a mountain, because that's where all the truth went, believe it or not, it just upped and ran away from these cities where even the stuff under our feet is all made up, a lie, and it hid up there in the thin thin air where the liars don't dare come after it in case their brains explode. It's up there all right. I've been there. Ask me." She fell asleep; he carried her to the bed.
After the news of his death in the plane crash reached her, she had tormented herself by inventing him: by speculating, that is to say, about her lost lover. He had been the first man she'd slept with in more than five years: no small figure in her, her instincts having warned her that to do otherwise might be to be absorbed by it; that it was for her, would always be, a big subject, a whole dark continent to