Arthur Hughes Ophelia paintingArthur Hughes April Love paintingAlbert Bierstadt A River Estuary painting
pieces of public money, without interest, to pay out to borrowers in exchange for securities in land. He would not even have done this much but for Cocceius Nerva's advice. He still used occasionally to consult Nerva who, living at Capri, where he was kept carefully away from the scene of Tiberius's debauches and allowed little news from Rome, was perhaps the only man in the world who still believed in Tiberius's goodness. To Nerva (Caligula told me some years later) Tiberius explained his painted favourites as poor orphans on whom he had taken pity, most of them a little queer in the head, which accounted for the funny way they dressed and behaved. But could Nerva really have been so simple as to have OF THE LAST FIVE YEARS OF TIBERIUS'S REIGN THE LESS told the better. I cannot bear to write in detail of Nero, slowly starved to death; or of Agrippina, who was cheered by news of Sejanus's fall, but when she saw that it made matters no better for her refused to eat, and was forcibly fed for awhilebelieved this, and so shortsighted?
Thursday, October 23, 2008
Paul Cezanne Jas de Bouffan the Pool painting
Paul Cezanne Jas de Bouffan the Pool paintingPaul Cezanne House of Pere Lacroix paintingPaul Cezanne Flowers in a Blue Vase painting
somehow he knew that story-and there had even been talk between them in which they had regretted that they were not Emperor and Empress, to do as they pleased. Sejanus said, "Well, Castor, I've worked it for you all right! Congratulations!"
Castor scowled. He was only "Castor" to a few intimates. He had won the name, as I think I have explained, because of his resemblance to a well-known gladiator, but it had stuck because one day he had lost his temper in an argument with a knight. The knight had told him bluntly at a banquet that he was drunk and incapable, and Castor, shouting "Drunk and incapable, am I? I'll show you if I'm drunk and incapable," staggered from his couch and hit the knight such a terrific blow in the belly that he vomited up the whole meal. Castor now said to Sejanus:
"I don't allow anyone to address me by a nickname except
somehow he knew that story-and there had even been talk between them in which they had regretted that they were not Emperor and Empress, to do as they pleased. Sejanus said, "Well, Castor, I've worked it for you all right! Congratulations!"
Castor scowled. He was only "Castor" to a few intimates. He had won the name, as I think I have explained, because of his resemblance to a well-known gladiator, but it had stuck because one day he had lost his temper in an argument with a knight. The knight had told him bluntly at a banquet that he was drunk and incapable, and Castor, shouting "Drunk and incapable, am I? I'll show you if I'm drunk and incapable," staggered from his couch and hit the knight such a terrific blow in the belly that he vomited up the whole meal. Castor now said to Sejanus:
"I don't allow anyone to address me by a nickname except
Monday, October 20, 2008
Unknown Artist David Winston Solitude painting
Unknown Artist David Winston Solitude painting
John William Waterhouse Crystal Ball painting
ALTHOUGH IT HAS BEEN CLEAR THAT AUGUSTUS'S POWERS were failing and that he had not many more years to live, Rome could not accustom itself to the idea of his death. It is not an idle comparison to say that the City felt much as a boy feels when he loses his father. Whether the father has been a brave man or a coward, just or unjust, generous or mean, signifies little: he has been that boy's father, and no uncle or elder brother can ever take his place. For Augustus's rule had been a very long one and a man had to be already past middle age to remember back behind
Leonardo da Vinci Lady With An Ermine painting
It was therefore not altogether unnatural that the Senate met to deliberate whether the divine honours which had, even in his lifetime, been paid him by the provinces should now be voted him in the City itself.
Pollio's son. Callus-hated by Tiberius because he had married Vipsania (Tiberius's first wife, you will recall, whom he had been forced to divorce on
John William Waterhouse Crystal Ball painting
ALTHOUGH IT HAS BEEN CLEAR THAT AUGUSTUS'S POWERS were failing and that he had not many more years to live, Rome could not accustom itself to the idea of his death. It is not an idle comparison to say that the City felt much as a boy feels when he loses his father. Whether the father has been a brave man or a coward, just or unjust, generous or mean, signifies little: he has been that boy's father, and no uncle or elder brother can ever take his place. For Augustus's rule had been a very long one and a man had to be already past middle age to remember back behind
Leonardo da Vinci Lady With An Ermine painting
It was therefore not altogether unnatural that the Senate met to deliberate whether the divine honours which had, even in his lifetime, been paid him by the provinces should now be voted him in the City itself.
Pollio's son. Callus-hated by Tiberius because he had married Vipsania (Tiberius's first wife, you will recall, whom he had been forced to divorce on
Friday, October 17, 2008
Winslow Homer Children on the Beach painting
Winslow Homer Children on the Beach paintingAndrew Atroshenko What a Wonderful Life paintingAndrew Atroshenko Just for Love painting
records the man who expelled the Tarquins from Rome was not Brutus but Porsena, and that Brutus and Collatinus, the first two Consuls at Rome, were merely the City Stewards appointed to collect his taxes."
Livy grew quite angry. "I am surprised at you, Claudius. Have you no reverence for Roman tradition that you should believe the lies told by our ancient enemies to diminish our greatness?"way to write history. Claudius, my friend, you have ambitions that way. Which of us two old worthies will you choose as a model?" "You make it very difficult for the boy, you fealous fellows," put in Sulpicius. "What do you expect him to answer?" "The truth will offend neither of us," answered Pollio.
"I only asked," I said humbly, "what really happened then."
"Come on, Livy," said Pollio. "Answer the young student. What really happened?"
Livy said; "Another time. Let's keep to the matter in hand now, which is a general discussion of the proper
records the man who expelled the Tarquins from Rome was not Brutus but Porsena, and that Brutus and Collatinus, the first two Consuls at Rome, were merely the City Stewards appointed to collect his taxes."
Livy grew quite angry. "I am surprised at you, Claudius. Have you no reverence for Roman tradition that you should believe the lies told by our ancient enemies to diminish our greatness?"way to write history. Claudius, my friend, you have ambitions that way. Which of us two old worthies will you choose as a model?" "You make it very difficult for the boy, you fealous fellows," put in Sulpicius. "What do you expect him to answer?" "The truth will offend neither of us," answered Pollio.
"I only asked," I said humbly, "what really happened then."
"Come on, Livy," said Pollio. "Answer the young student. What really happened?"
Livy said; "Another time. Let's keep to the matter in hand now, which is a general discussion of the proper
Wednesday, October 8, 2008
Paul Cezanne Table Corner painting
Paul Cezanne Table Corner paintingWilliam Bouguereau Innocence paintingBill Brauer The Gold Dress painting
looked at him. “His head.”
“Right at the exact point of the chin, a small bruise. A cut so small—they can close it with one stitch. And a little blue bruise on his lower lip. It wasn’t even swollen.”
“That’s all,” she said.
“All.” Hannah said.
“That’s all,” Andrew said. “The doctor said it was concussion of the brain. It was instantaneous.”
She was silent; he felt that she must be doubting it. Christ, he thought furiously, at least she could be spared that!
“He can’t have suffered, Mary, not even for a fraction of a second. Mary, I saw his face. There wasn’t a glimmer of pain in it. Only—a kind of surprise. Startled.”
Still she said nothing. I’ve got to make her sure of it, he thought. How in heaven’s name can I make it clearer? If necessary, I’ll get hold of the doctor and make him tell her hims ...
“He never knew he was dying,” she said. “Not a minute, not one moment, to know, ‘my is ending.’ ”
Hannah put a quick hand to her shoulder; Andrew dropped to his knees before her
looked at him. “His head.”
“Right at the exact point of the chin, a small bruise. A cut so small—they can close it with one stitch. And a little blue bruise on his lower lip. It wasn’t even swollen.”
“That’s all,” she said.
“All.” Hannah said.
“That’s all,” Andrew said. “The doctor said it was concussion of the brain. It was instantaneous.”
She was silent; he felt that she must be doubting it. Christ, he thought furiously, at least she could be spared that!
“He can’t have suffered, Mary, not even for a fraction of a second. Mary, I saw his face. There wasn’t a glimmer of pain in it. Only—a kind of surprise. Startled.”
Still she said nothing. I’ve got to make her sure of it, he thought. How in heaven’s name can I make it clearer? If necessary, I’ll get hold of the doctor and make him tell her hims ...
“He never knew he was dying,” she said. “Not a minute, not one moment, to know, ‘my is ending.’ ”
Hannah put a quick hand to her shoulder; Andrew dropped to his knees before her
Monday, October 6, 2008
Unknown Artist Pink Floyd Back Catalogue painting
Unknown Artist Pink Floyd Back Catalogue paintingClaude Monet Water Lilies paintingVincent van Gogh Poppies 1886 painting
time of evening when people sit on their porches, rocking gently and talking gently and watching the street and the standing up into their sphere of possession of the trees, of birds hung havens, hangars. People go by; things go by. A horse, drawing a buggy, breaking his hollow iron on the asphalt; a loud auto, a quiet auto, people in pairs, not in a hurry, scuffling, switching their weight of aestival body, talking casually, the taste hovering over them of vanilla, straw berry, pasteboard and starched milk, the image upon them of lovers and horsemen, squared with clowns in hueless amber. A street car raising its iron moan, stopping, belting and starting; stertorous; rousing and raising again its iron increasing moan and swimming its gold windows and straw seats on past and past and past, the bleak spark crackling and cursing above it like a small malignant spirit set to dog its tracks; the iron whine rises on rising speed; still risen, faints, halts; the faint stinging bell, rises again, still fainter, fainting, lifting, lifts, faints forgone: forgotten. Now is the night one blue dew.
Now is the night one blue dew, my father has drained, he has coiled the hose.
Low on the length of lawns, a (railing of fire who breathes.
time of evening when people sit on their porches, rocking gently and talking gently and watching the street and the standing up into their sphere of possession of the trees, of birds hung havens, hangars. People go by; things go by. A horse, drawing a buggy, breaking his hollow iron on the asphalt; a loud auto, a quiet auto, people in pairs, not in a hurry, scuffling, switching their weight of aestival body, talking casually, the taste hovering over them of vanilla, straw berry, pasteboard and starched milk, the image upon them of lovers and horsemen, squared with clowns in hueless amber. A street car raising its iron moan, stopping, belting and starting; stertorous; rousing and raising again its iron increasing moan and swimming its gold windows and straw seats on past and past and past, the bleak spark crackling and cursing above it like a small malignant spirit set to dog its tracks; the iron whine rises on rising speed; still risen, faints, halts; the faint stinging bell, rises again, still fainter, fainting, lifting, lifts, faints forgone: forgotten. Now is the night one blue dew.
Now is the night one blue dew, my father has drained, he has coiled the hose.
Low on the length of lawns, a (railing of fire who breathes.
Jean Beraud Pont des arts painting
Jean Beraud Pont des arts paintingJean Beraud Boulevard des capucines paintingHenri Rousseau The Snake Charmer painting
size and style of stream as any violin. So many qualities of sound out of one hose: so many choral differences and that same intensity not growing less but growing more quiet and delicate with the turn of the nozzle, up to that extreme tender whisper when the water was just a wide bell of film. Chiefly, though, the hoses were set much alike, in a compromise between distance and tenderness of spray, (and quite surely a sense of art behind this compromise, and a quiet deep joy, too real to recognize itself), and the sounds therefore were pitched much alike; pointed by the snorting start of a new hose; decorated by some man playful with the nozzle; left empty, like God by the sparrow’s fall, when any single one of them desists: and all, though near alike, of various pitch; and in this unison. These sweet pale streamings in the out of those several hoses that were in earshot. Out of any one hose, the almost dead silence of the release, and the short still arch of the separate big drops, silent as a held breath, and the only noise the flattering noise on leaves and the slapped grass at the fall of each big drop. That, and the intense hiss with the intense
size and style of stream as any violin. So many qualities of sound out of one hose: so many choral differences and that same intensity not growing less but growing more quiet and delicate with the turn of the nozzle, up to that extreme tender whisper when the water was just a wide bell of film. Chiefly, though, the hoses were set much alike, in a compromise between distance and tenderness of spray, (and quite surely a sense of art behind this compromise, and a quiet deep joy, too real to recognize itself), and the sounds therefore were pitched much alike; pointed by the snorting start of a new hose; decorated by some man playful with the nozzle; left empty, like God by the sparrow’s fall, when any single one of them desists: and all, though near alike, of various pitch; and in this unison. These sweet pale streamings in the out of those several hoses that were in earshot. Out of any one hose, the almost dead silence of the release, and the short still arch of the separate big drops, silent as a held breath, and the only noise the flattering noise on leaves and the slapped grass at the fall of each big drop. That, and the intense hiss with the intense
Leonardo da Vinci Lady With An Ermine painting
Leonardo da Vinci Lady With An Ermine paintingEdward Hopper Chop Suey paintingCaravaggio Adoration of the Shepherds painting
James Agee died suddenly May 16, 1955. This novel, upon which he had been working for many years, is presented here exactly as he wrote it. There has been no re-writing, and nothing has been eliminated except for a few cases of first-draft material which he later re-worked at greater length, and one section of seven-odd pages which the editors were unable satisfactorily to fit into the body of the novel.
The ending of A Death in the Family had been reached sometime before Agee’s death, and the only editorial problem involved the placing of several scenes outside the time span of the basic story. It was finally decided to print these in italics and to put them after Parts
James Agee died suddenly May 16, 1955. This novel, upon which he had been working for many years, is presented here exactly as he wrote it. There has been no re-writing, and nothing has been eliminated except for a few cases of first-draft material which he later re-worked at greater length, and one section of seven-odd pages which the editors were unable satisfactorily to fit into the body of the novel.
The ending of A Death in the Family had been reached sometime before Agee’s death, and the only editorial problem involved the placing of several scenes outside the time span of the basic story. It was finally decided to print these in italics and to put them after Parts
Saturday, October 4, 2008
Salvador Dali Equestrian Fantasy - Portrait of Lady Dunn painting
Salvador Dali Equestrian Fantasy - Portrait of Lady Dunn paintingSalvador Dali Cruxifixion (Hypercubic Body) paintingMontague Dawson Evening Shadows painting
spite of the ignoble costume of the time, was by all accounts a splendid spectacle. Sebastian went down for it and half-heartedly suggested my coming with him; I refused and came to regret my refusal, for it was the last ball of its kind given there; the last of a splendid series. How could I have known? There seemed time for everything in those days; the world was open to be explored at leisure. I was so full of Oxford that summer; London could wait, I thought.
The other great houses belonged to kinsmen or to childhood friends of Julia’s, and beside s them there were countless substantial houses in the squares of Mayfair and Belgravia, alight and thronged, one or other of them, night after night. Foreigners returning on post from their own waste lands wrote Home that here they seemed to catch a glimpse of the world they had believed
spite of the ignoble costume of the time, was by all accounts a splendid spectacle. Sebastian went down for it and half-heartedly suggested my coming with him; I refused and came to regret my refusal, for it was the last ball of its kind given there; the last of a splendid series. How could I have known? There seemed time for everything in those days; the world was open to be explored at leisure. I was so full of Oxford that summer; London could wait, I thought.
The other great houses belonged to kinsmen or to childhood friends of Julia’s, and beside s them there were countless substantial houses in the squares of Mayfair and Belgravia, alight and thronged, one or other of them, night after night. Foreigners returning on post from their own waste lands wrote Home that here they seemed to catch a glimpse of the world they had believed
Alfred Gockel Stroking the Keys painting
Alfred Gockel Stroking the Keys paintingWassily Kandinsky Upward paintingWassily Kandinsky In Blue painting
chives. I tried to think only of the salad. I succeeded for a time in thinking only of the soufflé. Then came the cognac and the proper hour for these confidences. ‘...Julia’s just rising twenty. I don’t want to wait till she’s of age. Anyway, I don’t want to marry without doing the thing properly...nothing hole-in-corner...I have to see she isn’t jockeyed out of her proper settlement. So as the Marchioness won’t play ball I’m off to see the old man and square him. I gather he’s likely to agree to anything he knows will upset her. He’s at Monte Carlo at the moment. I’d planned to go there after dropping Sebastian off at Zurich. That’s why it’s such a bloody bore having lost him.’ The cognac was not to Rex’s taste. It was clear and pale and it came to us in a bottle free from grime and Napoleonic cyphers. It was only a year or two older than Rex and lately bottled. They gave it to us in very thin tulip-shaped glasses of modest size. ‘Brandy’s one of the things
chives. I tried to think only of the salad. I succeeded for a time in thinking only of the soufflé. Then came the cognac and the proper hour for these confidences. ‘...Julia’s just rising twenty. I don’t want to wait till she’s of age. Anyway, I don’t want to marry without doing the thing properly...nothing hole-in-corner...I have to see she isn’t jockeyed out of her proper settlement. So as the Marchioness won’t play ball I’m off to see the old man and square him. I gather he’s likely to agree to anything he knows will upset her. He’s at Monte Carlo at the moment. I’d planned to go there after dropping Sebastian off at Zurich. That’s why it’s such a bloody bore having lost him.’ The cognac was not to Rex’s taste. It was clear and pale and it came to us in a bottle free from grime and Napoleonic cyphers. It was only a year or two older than Rex and lately bottled. They gave it to us in very thin tulip-shaped glasses of modest size. ‘Brandy’s one of the things
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