Salvador Dali The Enigma of Desire

Salvador Dali The Enigma of DesireSalvador Dali Morphological EchoSalvador Dali Dali at the Age of SixJoseph Mallord William Turner Frosty MorningJoseph Mallord William Turner Whitby
was annoyed. He couldn’t find the Librarian anywhere. The ape never seemed to be around these days. He’d had to scrabble among the stuff himself.
‘I think this is the last, Archchancellor,’ he said, tipping an avalanche of dusty paperwork on to the desk. Ridcully flailed?’ the Bursar ventured. ‘Damn thing shot pellets at me,’ said Ridcully.
‘Twice!’
‘I’m sure it wasn’t, er, intended-’
‘I want to see how it was made, man! Just think of the sportin’ possibilities!’
The Bursar tried to think of the possibilities. at a cloud of moths. ‘Paper, paper, paper,’ he muttered. ‘How many damn bits of paper in his stuff, eh?’ ‘Er . . . 23,813, Archchancellor,’ said the Bursar. ‘He kept a record.’ ‘Look at this,’ said the Archchancellor. ‘ "Star Enumerator" . . . "Rev Counter for Use in Ecclesiastical Areas" . . . "Swamp Meter" . . . Swamp meter! The man was mad!’ ‘He had a very tidy mind,’ said the Bursar. ‘Same thing.’ ‘Is it, er, really important, Archchancellor