They’ve gotten real creative.
They’ve gotten real creative.
Intelligence is not the same as critical thinking—and the difference matters.
Overall, Pound Foolish is not one of my favorite personal finance books. Although the author makes some good points, there’s an unfortunate amount of criticism of famous financial personalities, and discussion about how it’s impossible to financially get ahead for ordinary people. This is obviously not how I think about personal finance and investing, so … Financial Foolishness – Pound Foolish by Helaine Olen Read More »
They’ve gotten real creative.
They’ve gotten real creative.
Proverbs 26:4 seems to contradict Proverbs 26:5. This 1-minute devotion explains why it's not contradictory. #BibleLoveNotes #Bible
The comic hits out at the sexism that held back Smack the Pony, the rise of rape as entertainment – and the pleather trousers she spent 11 hours in for Two Doors Down
The painter Sébastien-Charles Giraud created several paintings for princesse Mathilde Bonaparte depicting interiors of her hôtel particulier at 24 rue de Courcelles in Paris. Since demolished (1954), the hôtel had been put at her disposal in 1852 (Or 1857, depending on the source) by her cousin - and former fiancé - the Prince-Président, or perhaps-by-then Emperor Napoléon III, and it soon became one of the most celebrated salons of the nineteenth century. Le Salon de la princesse Mathilde, 1859. La Salle à manger de la princesse Mathilde, circa 1854. La Princesse Mathilde dans son atelier, circa 1860. La Véranda de la princesse Mathilde, circa 1864. Un Coin d'atelier de la princesse Mathilde, circa 1853. The dating on these images, and even whether they all record spaces at 24 rue de Courcelles, is problematic. Different sources give different dates for her residence there. Much complicating the issue, she apparently lived at another address on the same street, 10 rue de Courcelles - which I believe is still standing - prior to moving to number 24. When she first lived in the neighborhood and when she moved from the first to the second address, and at whose instigation - Nieuwerkerke's or the Emperor's - is unclear. If the dates attached to the paintings are at all accurate, one or two of them may actually depict interiors from number 10. *** Portrait by Édouard Louis Dubufe, 1861. Mathilde Laetitia Wilhelmine Bonaparte, Princess of France, Princess of San Donato (27 May 1820, Trieste - 2 January 1904, Paris), daughter of Jérôme Bonaparte and his second wife, Princess Catherine of Wurtemberg, and therefore the Emperor Napoléon's niece. She spent the first years of her childhood in Rome and nearly married her cousin Louis Napoléon, the future Napoléon III, in 1836, but the betrothal was broken as a result of the failure of the Strasbourg coup and his imprisonment at Ham. In 1840 she married the Russian nobleman Anatole Demidoff, Prince of San Donato, but he refused to part with his mistress and, after a very stormy marriage, the couple separated; in 1846, with her own lover, comte Émilien de Nieuwerkerke, she settled in Paris. She went on to establish a soon to be legendary salon; "This salon is the true salon of the nineteenth century, with a mistress of the house who is the perfect model of the modern woman", wrote the brothers Goncourt, her frequent guests. Indeed, she gathered at 24 rue de Courcelles all those who mattered from the intellectual and artistic elite of the Second Empire. She organized dinners for men of letters on Wednesdays, when writers such as Sainte-Beuve, de Maupassant, Flaubert, Théophile Gautier, Alexandre Dumas, and François Coppée would be entertained. She also invited journalists like Émile de Girardin and Hippolyte de Villemessant, founder of Le Figaro, while scholars and scientists, such as Pasteur and Berthelot were also part of her circle. The artists were received at dinner on Friday, Édouard Detaille, Eugène Isabey, Baudry, Bouguereau, Meissonier, Doré, Carpeaux, and Fromentin among the guests. In 1854, she acquired the château de Saint-Gratien, on the shores of Lake Enghien, where she lived for six months a year. There she replicated the literary and artistic circle of the rue de Courcelles. The war of 1870 and the fall of the Empire forced her to flee France and take refuge in Belgium; her hôtel was sequestered. Returning to France in 1871, she moved to the rue de Berry and resumed her pre-war receptions with the same eclecticism as in the past. Now frequenting her table were, among others, Paul Bourget, Anatole France, Maurice Barrès, Proust, and the actress Réjane. Following the death of Demidoff in 1870, she married the artist and poet Claudius Marcel Popelin, but outlived him. Her salon flourished to the end, and long before her death at the age of eighty-three, she had more than earned the sincere nickname "Notre-Dame des Arts." *** Intérieur du cabinet du comte Émilien de Nieuwerkerke, Directeur général des Musées impériaux, au Louvre, 1859. In spite of his rather unusual relationship with the Emperor's cousin, princesse Mathilde - both were married to other people - the comte de Nieuwerkerke played a highly important rôle during the Second Empire, acting as a kind of minister of cultural affairs, energetic and powerful. Giraud also depicted the comte's office on the first floor of the north wing of the Louvre's Cour Carrée. The artist has incorporated into the decoration of the room a number of precious objects that are in the collection of the museum. Copies of Winterhalter's state portraits of the Emperor and Empress hang between the windows. *** Sébastien-Charles Giraud (18 June 1819, Paris - 30 September 1892, Sannois), French painter. Beginning in 1835, he studied at the École supérieure des beaux-arts, with a focus on genre painting. In the 1840s, he traveled to America and then, in 1846, with a military expedition ordered by King Louis Philippe, he went to Tahiti. While there he made numerous sketches of the island - the vegetation, the people, and their dwellings. On his return to France he was given the nickname "Giraud le Tahitien".
They’ve gotten real creative.
(The paintings reproduced here - all circa 1770s-90s - have fairly generic titles, and I didn't feel compelled to wade into the research necessary to include them.) *** Pierre-Jacques Volaire (30 April 30 1729, Toulon - 19 September 1799, Naples), French painter. From a well-known family of painters in Toulon, his own career got started in 1754, when the painter Joseph Vernet arrived in the city, sent by Louis XV to paint French ports. Vernet took Volaire as his assistant, and they traveled together for eight years; the younger artist would be strongly influenced by Vernet's compositional conceits and his dramatic use of moonlight. By 1764 Volaire had left for Rome where, for the next five years, he worked at painting landscapes and seascapes. He then moved on to Naples, where night scenes became his specialty. The eruption of Mount Vesuvius in 1771 inspired Volaire to paint the moonlit scenes of volcanic eruptions that would make his reputation. He exhibited in Paris only three times. He was denied official recognition in France when, in 1786, he tried to sell one of his Vesuvius pictures to Louis XVI; at the time, the work of a landscape painter - especially one who employed sensational effects - was not seen to be very worthy. Volaire also created pastels and drawings, and his works were frequently engraved.
Don’t Be Drunk With False Teachings! It Brings Confusion! Woe to those who rise early in the morning pursuing strong drink, who stay up late at night – wine inflames them! And the lyre and th…
The man said to the dentist, “Doc, I’m in a hurry. I have two buddies sitting out in my car waiting for us to go play golf, so forget about the anaesthetic and just pull the tooth and be done with it.” The man continues, “We have a 10:00 AM tee time at the best golf course in town and its...
Facebook Post On Foolishness Of Human Beings - The internet has generated a huge amount of laughs from cats and FAILS. And we all out of cats.
The painter Sébastien-Charles Giraud created several paintings for princesse Mathilde Bonaparte depicting interiors of her hôtel particulier at 24 rue de Courcelles in Paris. Since demolished (1954), the hôtel had been put at her disposal in 1852 (Or 1857, depending on the source) by her cousin - and former fiancé - the Prince-Président, or perhaps-by-then Emperor Napoléon III, and it soon became one of the most celebrated salons of the nineteenth century. Le Salon de la princesse Mathilde, 1859. La Salle à manger de la princesse Mathilde, circa 1854. La Princesse Mathilde dans son atelier, circa 1860. La Véranda de la princesse Mathilde, circa 1864. Un Coin d'atelier de la princesse Mathilde, circa 1853. The dating on these images, and even whether they all record spaces at 24 rue de Courcelles, is problematic. Different sources give different dates for her residence there. Much complicating the issue, she apparently lived at another address on the same street, 10 rue de Courcelles - which I believe is still standing - prior to moving to number 24. When she first lived in the neighborhood and when she moved from the first to the second address, and at whose instigation - Nieuwerkerke's or the Emperor's - is unclear. If the dates attached to the paintings are at all accurate, one or two of them may actually depict interiors from number 10. *** Portrait by Édouard Louis Dubufe, 1861. Mathilde Laetitia Wilhelmine Bonaparte, Princess of France, Princess of San Donato (27 May 1820, Trieste - 2 January 1904, Paris), daughter of Jérôme Bonaparte and his second wife, Princess Catherine of Wurtemberg, and therefore the Emperor Napoléon's niece. She spent the first years of her childhood in Rome and nearly married her cousin Louis Napoléon, the future Napoléon III, in 1836, but the betrothal was broken as a result of the failure of the Strasbourg coup and his imprisonment at Ham. In 1840 she married the Russian nobleman Anatole Demidoff, Prince of San Donato, but he refused to part with his mistress and, after a very stormy marriage, the couple separated; in 1846, with her own lover, comte Émilien de Nieuwerkerke, she settled in Paris. She went on to establish a soon to be legendary salon; "This salon is the true salon of the nineteenth century, with a mistress of the house who is the perfect model of the modern woman", wrote the brothers Goncourt, her frequent guests. Indeed, she gathered at 24 rue de Courcelles all those who mattered from the intellectual and artistic elite of the Second Empire. She organized dinners for men of letters on Wednesdays, when writers such as Sainte-Beuve, de Maupassant, Flaubert, Théophile Gautier, Alexandre Dumas, and François Coppée would be entertained. She also invited journalists like Émile de Girardin and Hippolyte de Villemessant, founder of Le Figaro, while scholars and scientists, such as Pasteur and Berthelot were also part of her circle. The artists were received at dinner on Friday, Édouard Detaille, Eugène Isabey, Baudry, Bouguereau, Meissonier, Doré, Carpeaux, and Fromentin among the guests. In 1854, she acquired the château de Saint-Gratien, on the shores of Lake Enghien, where she lived for six months a year. There she replicated the literary and artistic circle of the rue de Courcelles. The war of 1870 and the fall of the Empire forced her to flee France and take refuge in Belgium; her hôtel was sequestered. Returning to France in 1871, she moved to the rue de Berry and resumed her pre-war receptions with the same eclecticism as in the past. Now frequenting her table were, among others, Paul Bourget, Anatole France, Maurice Barrès, Proust, and the actress Réjane. Following the death of Demidoff in 1870, she married the artist and poet Claudius Marcel Popelin, but outlived him. Her salon flourished to the end, and long before her death at the age of eighty-three, she had more than earned the sincere nickname "Notre-Dame des Arts." *** Intérieur du cabinet du comte Émilien de Nieuwerkerke, Directeur général des Musées impériaux, au Louvre, 1859. In spite of his rather unusual relationship with the Emperor's cousin, princesse Mathilde - both were married to other people - the comte de Nieuwerkerke played a highly important rôle during the Second Empire, acting as a kind of minister of cultural affairs, energetic and powerful. Giraud also depicted the comte's office on the first floor of the north wing of the Louvre's Cour Carrée. The artist has incorporated into the decoration of the room a number of precious objects that are in the collection of the museum. Copies of Winterhalter's state portraits of the Emperor and Empress hang between the windows. *** Sébastien-Charles Giraud (18 June 1819, Paris - 30 September 1892, Sannois), French painter. Beginning in 1835, he studied at the École supérieure des beaux-arts, with a focus on genre painting. In the 1840s, he traveled to America and then, in 1846, with a military expedition ordered by King Louis Philippe, he went to Tahiti. While there he made numerous sketches of the island - the vegetation, the people, and their dwellings. On his return to France he was given the nickname "Giraud le Tahitien".
Woman got annoyed at her friend who kept pushing nutrition and exercise on her after she gave birth so she lied about not losing weight, which made the friend look foolish.
Grammar Girl provides short, friendly tips to improve your writing and feed your love of the English language.
Check Out These Pet Haircuts That, for Better or Worse, Completely Transformed Their Look Bad haircuts, we’ve all had them. But did you know that pets can also have bad hair days? For your entertainment, we’ve brought together our favorite pet haircuts. From dogs with mullets, mohawks, and emo bangs to pet salon trips that …
These kids are only using the knowledge available to them
A young and foolish pilot wanted to sound cool and show who was boss on the aviation frequencies. So, this was his first time approaching a field during the nighttime. Instead of...
Before we go straight to the examples, let’s figure out what an oxymoron is first. So, let’s begin with the name and its origins. The term oxymorum was first recorded a while back by a dude named Maurus Servius Honoratus, who lived around 400 AD. The term itself is derived from the Greek word oksus, meaning sharp, keen, pointed and moros meaning dull, stupid, or foolish. So, sharp-dull, keenly stupid, or pointedly foolish; your choice. What’s even more fun is that the word oxymoron is autological, which is a fancy term for saying that it is itself an example of an oxymoron.