Showing posts with label David Hardy paintings. Show all posts
Showing posts with label David Hardy paintings. Show all posts

Sunday, July 13, 2008

David Hardy paintings

David Hardy paintings
Dirck Bouts paintings
MELANIE: Poor Scarlett...you\'d be at Tara now with your mother, wouldn\'t you? If it weren\'t for me...Oh, Scarlett darling, you\'ve been so good to me. No sister could have been sweeter. I\'ve been lying here thinking, if I should die, will you take my baby?SCARLETT: Oh, fiddle-dee-dee, Melanie, aren\'t things bad enough without you talking about dying? I\'ll send for Dr.Meade right away.MELANIE: Not yet, Scarlett. I couldn\'t let Dr. Meade sit here for hours while, while all those poor, badly wounded boys...SCARLETT: Prissy! Prissy come here quick! Prissy, go get Dr. Meade, run quick! Don\'t stand there like a scared goat, run! Hurry, Hurry! I\'ll sell you South I will, I swear I will! I\'ll sell you South!(Later, Prissy comes back alone. Scarlett has to find the doctor herself.)PRISSY: Is the doctor coming?SCARLETT: No, he can\'t come.PRISSY: Oh, Miss Scarlett, Miss Melanie bad off!

Monday, June 2, 2008

David Hardy paintings

David Hardy paintings
Dirck Bouts paintings
Dante Gabriel Rossetti paintings
Daniel Ridgway Knight paintings
which he was to change; and a private compartment had been engaged in the train that was to carry the young couple to their unknown destination -- concealment of the spot in which the bridal night was to be spent being one of the most sacred taboos of the prehistoric ritual.
``Got the ring all right?'' whispered young van der Luyden Newland, who was inexperienced in the duties of a best man, and awed by the weight of his responsibility.
Archer made the gesture which he had seen so many bridegrooms make: with his ungloved right hand he felt in the pocket of his dark grey waistcoat, and assured himself that the little gold circlet (engraved inside: Newland to May, April -- -, 187-) was in its place; then, resuming his former attitude, his tall hat and pearl-grey gloves with black stitchings grasped in his left hand, he stood looking at the door of the church.
Overhead, Handel's March swelled pompously through the imitation stone vaulting, carrying on its waves the faded drift of the many weddings at which, with cheerful indifference, he had stood on the same chancel step watching other brides float up the nave toward other bridegrooms.

Wednesday, May 28, 2008

David Hardy paintings

David Hardy paintings
Dirck Bouts paintings
Dante Gabriel Rossetti paintings
Daniel Ridgway Knight paintings
It is our painful duty to record the sudden and mysterious disappearance of our cherished friend, Mrs. Snowball Pat Paw. This lovely and beloved cat was the pet of a large circle of warm and admiring friends; for her beauty attracted all eyes, her graces and virtues endeared her to all hearts, and her loss is deeply felt by the whole community.
When last seen, she was sitting at the gate, watching the butcher's cart, and it is feared that some villain, tempted by her charms, basely stole her. Weeks have passed, but no trace of her has been discovered, and we relinquish all hope, tie a black ribbon to her basket, set aside her dish, and weep for her as one lost to us forever.
A sympathizing friend sends the following gem:
A LAMENT(FOR S. B. PAT PAW)We mourn the loss of our little pet, And sigh o'er her hapless fate, For never more by the fire she'll sit, Nor play by the old green gate. The little grave where her infant sleeps Is 'neath the chestnut tree. But o'er her grave we may not weep, We know not where it may be. Her empty bed, her idle ball, Will never see her more; No gentle tap, no loving purr Is heard at the parlor door.