Eduard Manet Bouquet Of Violets

Eduard Manet Bouquet Of VioletsEduard Manet SpringEdward Hopper Carolina MorningEdward Hopper New York New Haven and Hartford
sketches of strange mechanical devices alongside it, and a couple of the little six-pipe things. The whole drawing looked like a up all over the place, or it'd be destroyed. It wouldn't end up in the Assassins' museum. What got put in museums?
Things that hadn't worked, or had got lost, or ought to be remembered . . . so where's the sense in putting our firework on show?
There had been a lot of locks on the door. So . . . not a museum you just wandered into, then. Maybe you had to be a high-up Assassin, and one day one of the Guild leaders'd doodle. Someone, possibly this Leonard, had been reading a book about fireworks and had scribbled in the margins.Fireworks.Well. . . fireworks? But fireworks weren't a weapon. Crackers went bang. Rockets went up, more or less, but all you could be sure of them hitting was the sky.Hammerhock was noted for his skill with mechanisms. That wasn't a major dwarfish attribute. People thought it was, but it wasn't. They were skilled with metal all right, and they made good swords and jewellery, but they weren't too technical when it came to things like cogwheels and springs. Hammerhock was unusual.So. . .Supposing there was a weapon. Supposing there was something about it that was different, strange, terrifying.No, that couldn't be it. It'd either end

Henri Rousseau Sleeping Gypsy

Henri Rousseau Sleeping GypsyHenri Rousseau Scout Attacked by a TigerHenri Rousseau Merry JestersHenri Rousseau Exotic Landscape
unclasped his hands from his head and rolled over.
'What'd you do that for, captain?' said Carrot. 'I wasn't—'
'It was attacking a dragon!' shouted Vimes. 'One that wouldn't back down!'
He pulled himself to his knees and tapped Carrot's breast-plate.
'You polish that up real bright!' he said. 'You can see yourself in it. So can anything else!'
'Oh, yes, of course horror.
'Gosh,' he said.

Sergeant Colon surveyed the butts. Then he removed his helmet and wiped his forehead.
'I think perhaps Lance-Constable Angua shouldn't have another go with the longbow until we've worked out how to stop her . . . her getting in the way.'there's that,' said Lady Sybil. 'Everyone knows you should keep dragons away from mirrors—''Mirrors,' said Carrot. 'Hey, there were bits of—''Yes. He showed Chubby a mirror,' said Vimes.'The poor little thing must have been trying to make himself bigger than himself,' said Carrot.'We're dealing here,' said Vimes, 'with a twisted mind.''Oh, no! You think so?''Yes.''But . . . no . . . you can't be right. Because Nobby was with us all the time.''Not Nobby,' said Vimes testily. 'Whatever he might do to a dragon, I doubt if he'd make it explode. There's stranger people in this world than Corporal Nobbs, my lad.'Carrot's expression slid into a rictus of intrigued

Salvador Dali Argus

Salvador Dali ArgusJohannes Vermeer The Little StreetJohannes Vermeer Mistress and MaidUnknown Artist Vanitas Still LifeJohn Constable Wivenhoe Park
'You, sir . . . Lord Monflathers! The first Duke led six hundred men to a glorious and epic de-feat at the Battle of Quirm! Does that mean n-othing? And you, Lord Venturii, and you, Sir George . . . sitting in Ankh in your old houses with your old namesand all that,' said Viscount Skater. 'Ladies in pointy hats. Chappies in armour bashin' one another and whatnot. But, y'know, we have to move with the times—'
'It was a golden age,' said Edward.
My god, thought Lord Rust. He actually does believe it.
'You see, dear boy,' said Lady Selachii, 'a few chance likenesses and a piece of jewellery – that doesn't really and your old money, while Guilds – Guilds] Ragtags of tradesmen and merchants! – Guilds, I say, have a voice in the r-unning of the city!'He reached a bookshelf in two strides and threw a huge leather-bound book on the table, where it upset Lord Rust's glass.'Twurp's P-eerage,' he shouted. 'We all have pages in there! We own it. But this man has you mesmerized! I assure you he is flesh and blood, a mere mortal! No-one dares remove him because they th-ink it will make things a little worse for themselves! Ye g-ods!'His audience looked glum. It was all true, of course. . . if you put it that way. And it didn't sound any better coming from a wild-eyed, pompous young man.'Yes, yes, the good old days. Towerin' spires and pennants and chivalry

Diego Rivera Detroit Industry

Diego Rivera Detroit IndustryLeroy Neiman Rocky vs ApolloAndy Warhol SupermanAndy Warhol Sunset
don’t talk about this one.”
“And you want to go into it?”
“Yes.”
250
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“You want to find elves?”
“That’s right. Now, are you going to stand here all night, or are you going to crowbar that stone?” She gave him a nudge. “There’s gold down there, you know.”
“Oh, yes, thanks under the stone and pulled on it with dwarfish strength. After a moment’s resistance the stone swung up.
There were steps below, thick with earth and old roots.
Nanny started down them without a look back, and then realized that the dwarf wasn’t following.
“What’s the matter?”very much,” said Casanunda sarcasti-cally. “That’s speciesist, that is. Just because I am ... verti-cally disadvantaged, you’re trying to get round me with gold, yes? Dwarfs are just a lot of appetites on legs, that’s what you think. Hah!”Nanny sighed.“Oh, all right,” she said. “Tell you what. . . when we get back home, I’ll bake you some proper dwarf bread, how about that?”Casanunda’s face split into a disbelieving grin.“Real dwarf bread?”“Yes. I reckon I’ve still got the recipe, and anyway it’s been weeks since I emptied out the cat box.”“Well, all right—.”Casanunda rammed one end of the crowbar
“Never liked dark and enclosed spaces much.”

Thomas Kinkade La Jolla Cove

Thomas Kinkade La Jolla CoveThomas Kinkade Hometown ChristmasThomas Kinkade Footprints in the sand
younger then. Now, once is enough.” Granny’s boots creaked as she turned and started to walk quickly back toward the town. Ridcully lumbered after her.
“What’s the hurry?”
“Got important things to do,” said Granny, without turn-ing around. “Been letting everyone down.” “Some people might say this is important.” “No. It’s just personal. Personal’s not the same as impor-tant. People just think it is.”
Terry Pratchettand drunkenness, would I?”
Ridcully looked bewildered.
“What womanizing?”
“We’re talking about what might have been.”
“But I’m a wizard! We hardly ever womanize. There’s laws about it. Well. . . rules. Guidelines, anyway.”
“But you wouldn’t have been a wizard then.”“You’re doing it again!”“What?”“I don’t know what the other future would have been like,” said Ridcully, “but I for one would have liked to give it a try.”Granny paused. Her mind was crackling with relief. Should she tell him about the memories? She opened her mouth to do so, and then thought again. No. He’d get soppy.“I’d have been crabby and bad-tempered,” she said, instead.“That goes without saying.”“Hah! And what about you? I’d have put up with all your womanizing

Cao Yong Catalina

Cao Yong CatalinaCao Yong CAFE BELLACao Yong AGE OF INNOCENCECao Yong AFTERNOON TEA
Out cold,” she said. “Off playing with the fairies.”
She picked the girl “Well, do you know how to cure her?”
“Me? No!”
“Right! Me neither. But I know someone who might know,” she said. “And we can shove him in the dungeons for now. Lots of iron bars down there. That should keep him quiet.”up. “Come on. I’ll carry her, you bring Mr. Tinkerbell.”“That was brave of you, carrying her over your shoul-der,” said Nanny. “With them elves firing arrows, too.”“And it meant less chance of one hitting me, too,” said Granny.Nanny Ogg was shocked.“What? You never thought that, did you?”“Well, she’d been hit already. If I’d been hit too, neither of us’d get out,” said Granny, simply.“But that’s—that’s a bit heartless, Esme.”“Heartless it may be, but headless it ain’t. I’ve never claimed to be nice, just to be sensible. No need to look like that. Now, are you coming or are you going to stand there with your mouth open all day?”Nanny closed her mouth, and then opened it again to say:“What’re you going to do?”

Pino DAYDREAM

Pino DAYDREAMPino DANCING IN BARCELONAPino close to my heart
off. Store doing all right, is it?”
Lancre’s only storekeeper gave her the look a three-legged mouse gives an athletic cat. Nevertheless, he tried.
“Oh, terrible bad, terrible bad business is right now, Mrs. Ogg.”
“Same as normal, eh?”
Mr. Quarney’s expression was pleading. He knew he wasn’t going to get out without something, he just wanted to know what it was.
“Well, now,” come amiss, eh? And she’ll probably want extra help come harvest. I knows I can depend on you all. Now, off you go ...”
They ran for it, leaving Nanny Ogg standing triumphantly in the doorway.
Jason Ogg looked at her hopelessly, a fifteen-stone man reduced to a four-year-old boy.said Nanny, “you know the widow Scrope, lives over in Slice?”Quarney’s mouth opened.“She’s not a widow,” he said. “She—““Bet you half a dollar?” said Nanny.Quarney’s mouth stayed open, and around it the rest of his face recomposed itself in an expression of fascinated horror.“So she’s to be allowed credit, right, until she gets the farm on its feet,” said Nanny, in the silence. Quamey nod-ded mutely.48LOR06 ftttQ LftQ/£6“That goes for the rest of you men listening outside the door,” said Nanny, raising her voice. “Dropping a cut of meat on her doorstep once a week wouldn’t

Thomas Kinkade End of a Perfect Day

Thomas Kinkade End of a Perfect DayThomas Kinkade Beacon of hopeThomas Kinkade The Sea Of Tranquility
gods of the Discworld live.
At the least, any god who is anybody. And it is strange that, although it takes years of effort and work and scheming for a god to get there, once there they never seem to do a lot apart from drink too much and indulge in a little mild corruption. Many "Right," he said.
Io, God of Thunder, looked up from his throne and waved his hammer threateningly.
"Who are you?"
Om strode toward the throne, picked up to by his toga, and gave a quick jab with his forehead.systems of government follow the same broad lines.They play games. They tend to be very simple games, because gods are easily bored by complicated things. It is strange that, while small gods can have one aim in mind for millions of years, are in fact one aim, large gods seem to have the attention span of the common mosquito.And style? If the gods of the Discworld were people they would think that three plaster ducks is a bit avant-garde.There was a double door at the end of the main hall.It rocked to a thunderous knocking.The gods looked up vaguely from their various preoccupations, shrugged and turned away.The doors burst inward.Om strode through the debris, looking around with the air of one who has a search to complete and not a lot of time to do it in.

Gustav Klimt Schubert at the Piano

Gustav Klimt Schubert at the PianoGustav Klimt Malcesine on Lake GardaDaniel Ridgway Knight Waiting
Really?"
"I built it. I know about it. You know about swords and spears and things. I know about things that go round and round. It will work first time."
"Good. Well, there are other things I've got to do-”
"Right."
Urn was left alone in the barn. He looked reflectively at his hammer, and then at the iron cart.
They didn't know how to cast bronze properly here. Their iron was pathetic, just pathetic. Their copper? It was terrible. stood over it, with drawn swords.
"The Turtle people . . . the people are plotting something," it said, the voice shrill with terror.
"Of course they are. Of course they are," said Vorbis. "And what is this plot?"
"There is some kind of . . . when you are confirmed as Cenobiarch . . . some kind of device, some machine that goes by itself . . . it will smash down the doors of the Temple . . ."They seemed to be able to make steel that shattered at a blow. Over the years the Quisition had weeded out all the good smiths.He'd done the best he could, but . . ."Just don't ask me about the second or third time," he said quietly to himself. Vorbis sat in the stone chair in his garden, papers strewn around him."Well?"The kneeling figure did not look up. Two guards
The voice faded away.
"And where is this device now?" said Vorbis.
"I don't know. They've bought iron from me. That's all I know

William Bouguereau Youth

William Bouguereau YouthBill Brauer Salsa DancersUnknown Artist Pink Floyd Back Catalogue
sunlight pooled on a big stone table in the center of the room. Urn unrolled the length of a scroll. Brilliant flowers glowed in the golden light.
"Orinjcrates' On the Nature of Plants," said Didactylos. "Six hundred plants and their uses . . ."
"They're beautiful," whispered Brutha.
"Yes, that is one Brutha looked down at a picture of a turtle. There were . . . elephants, they're elephants, his memory supplied, from the fresh memories of the bestiary sinking indelibly into his mind . . . elephants on its back, and on them something with mountains and a waterfall of an ocean around its edge . . .
"How can this be?" said Brutha. "A world on the back of a tortoise? Why does everyone tell me this? This can't be true!"
"Tell that to the mariners," said Didactylos. "Everyone who's ever sailed the Rim Ocean knows of the uses of plants," said Didactylos. "And one which old Orinjcrates neglected to notice, too. Well done. Show him Philo's Bestiary, Urn."Another scroll unrolled. There were dozens of Pictures of animals, thousands of unreadable words."But . . . pictures of animals . . . it's wrong . . . isn't it wrong to . . .""Pictures of just about everything in there," said Didactylos.Art was not permitted in Omnia."And this is the book Didactylos wrote," said Urn.

Henri Matisse Le bonheur de vivre

Henri Matisse Le bonheur de vivreGeorges Seurat The CircusGeorges Seurat Le Chahut
nodded. They put a hood over your face. All the novices knew that. Stories were told in the dormitories. They put a cloth over your face so the inquisitors didn't know who they were working on . . .
"Good. Now, we are going into the next room. Be careful where you tread."
Hands guided him upright and across the floor. Through the mists of incomprehension he felt the brush of the curtain, and Seated on stools at the far end of the room, with a Holy Legionary on either side of them, were three figures. He recognized the aquiline face of Deacon Vorbis; the other two were a short and stocky man, and a very fat one. Not heavily built, like Brutha, but a genuine lard tub. All three wore plain gray robes.
There was no sign of any branding irons, or even of scalpels.then was jolted down some steps and into a sandy­floored room. The hands spun him a few times, firmly but without apparent ill-will, and then led him along a passageway. There was the swish of another curtain, and then the indefinable sense of a larger space.Afterward, long afterward, Brutha realized: there was no terror. A hood had been slipped over his head in the room of the head of the Quisition, and it never occurred to him to be terrified. Because he had faith."There is a stool behind you. Be seated."Brutha sat."You may remove the hood."Brutha removed the hood.He blinked.

Jean Francois Millet Spring

Jean Francois Millet SpringJean Francois Millet Man with a hoeLorenzo Lotto Venus and Cupid
hadn't noticed Rincewind. It was too busy concentrating on the light.
Rincewind crawled back to the still body of Coin and nudged it gently.
'Are you alive?' looked blankly at the cold silver sand, then at the sky, then at the distant Things, and then at Rincewind.
'I don't know what to do,' he said.
'No harm in that. I've never known what to do,' said Rincewind with hollow cheerfulness. 'Been completely at a loss my whole life.' He hesitated. 'I think it's called being human, or something.'
'But I've always known what to do!'he said. 'If you're not, I'd prefer it if you didn't answer.'Coin rolled over and stared up at him with puzzled eyes. After a while he said, 'I remember-’'Best not to,' said Rincewind.The boy's hand groped vaguely in the sand beside him.'It isn't here any more,' said Rincewind, quietly. The hand stopped its searching.Rincewind helped Coin to sit up. He

Joaquin Sorolla y Bastida UNA INVESTIGACIoN

Joaquin Sorolla y Bastida UNA INVESTIGACIoNWilliam Etty Hero and LeanderBenjamin Williams Leader The Wengen Alps Morning In Switzerland
wide open, they were tightly shut. They seemed to glow.
'You three are privileged to be here,' said the hat through Abrim's slack mouth. 'This is the moment when wizardry stops running,' he glanced witheringly at Rincewind, 'and starts fighting back. You will remember it for the rest of 'He had you thrown in a snake pit!'
'Perhaps I should have taken the hint.'
The vizier started to mutter. Even Rincewind, whose few talents included a gift for languages, didn't recognise it, but it sounded the kind of language designed specifically for muttering, the words curling out like scythes at ankle height, dark and red and merciless. They made complicated swirls in your lives.''What, until lunchtime?' said Rincewind weakly.'Watch closely,' said Abrim. He extended his hands.'If we get a chance,' whispered Rincewind to Nijel, 'we run, right?''Where to?''From,' said Rincewind, 'the important word is from.''I don't trust this man,' said Nijel. 'I try not to judge from first impressions, but I definitely think he's up to no good.'

Vincent van Gogh Self-Portrait with Straw

Vincent van Gogh Self-Portrait with StrawVincent van Gogh Self-Portrait with Felt Hat greyVincent van Gogh Seascape at Saintes-Maries
small newt-haunted meadow known rather optimistically as Wizards Pleasaunce. On summer evenings, if the wind was blowing towards the river, it was a nice area for an afternoon stroll.
The warm silver haze still hung over the city as Coin padded through the damp grass until he reached the centre. He And then came the first tremor. A few leaves fell out of the trees and some distant water bird took off in fright.
The sound started as a low groaning, experienced rather than heard, as though everyone's feet had suddenly become their ears. The trees trembled, and so did one or two wizards.tossed the egg, which drifted in a gentle arc and landed with a squelch.He turned to the wizards as they hurried up.'Stand well back,' he commanded. 'And be prepared to run.'He pointed the octiron staff at the half-sunken thing. A bolt of octarine light shot from its tip and struck the egg, exploding into a shower of sparks that left blue and purple after-images.There was a pause. A dozen wizards watched the egg expectantly.A breeze shook the willow trees in a totally unmysterious way.Nothing else happened.'Er-’ Spelter began.

Joseph Mallord William Turner Dido Building Carthage

Joseph Mallord William Turner Dido Building CarthageJoseph Mallord William Turner Chichester CanalJoseph Mallord William Turner Rome from the Vatican
fled past him, followed by dozens of its tribe. Some of them were wearing clothes but that wasn't unusual for the open.
'Ah. It's, um, Rincewind, isn't it?' said the bursar, without much enthusiasm. 'What's the matter?'
'We're sinking!'
The bursar stared at him for a few moments. His name was Spelter. He was tall and wiry and looked as though he had been a horse in previous lives and had only just avoided it in this one. He always gave people the impression that he was looking at them University, where the high level of background magic does strange things to genes.As he stared around him Rincewind could see other streams of grey bodies leaving the University by every drainpipe and flowing towards the outside wall. The ivy by his ear rustled and a group of rats made a series of death-defying leaps on to his shoulders and slid down his robe. They otherwise ignored him totally but, again, this wasn't particularly unusual. Most creatures ignored Rincewind.He turned and fled into the University, skirts flapping around his knees, until he reached the bursar's study. He hammered on the door, which creaked

Thomas Kinkade Make a Wish Cottage

Thomas Kinkade Make a Wish CottageThomas Kinkade Key WestThomas Kinkade Golden Gate Bridge San Francisco
feeling massively ashamed for quite a long time.
When the casualties were cleared away the survivors went on to polka, mazurka, fox-trot, turkey-trot and trot a variety of
‘If you boys don’t go on playing, William Spigot. I will personally make sure your life becomes absolutely foul.’
And it returned to the press of bodies.
The fiddler looked down at the diamond. It could have ransomed any five kings the world would care to name. He kicked it hurriedly behind him.other ?4Lds? and beasts, and then to those dances where people form an arch and other people dance down it, which are incidentally generally based on folk memories of executions, and other dances where people form a circle, which are generally based on folk memories of plagues.Through it all two figures whirled as though there was no tomorrow. The lead fiddler was dimly aware that, when he paused for breath, a spinning figure tapdanced a storm out of the ?mtICe? and a voice by his ear said:YOU WILL CONTINUE, I PROMISE YOU.When he flagged a second time a diamond as big as his fist landed on the boards in front of him. A smaller figure sashayed out of the dancers and said:

Henri Rousseau The Flamingos

Henri Rousseau The FlamingosHenri Rousseau The Equatorial JungleHenri Rousseau The Boat in the Storm
sleep with the window open all night that I object to,’ she said vaguely. ‘I wish they’d stop that music! I ‘m getting a headache.’ There was another whoomph. Arthur reappeared upside down and landed on his head.
‘It’s the drop, you see,’ said Doreen. ‘It’s like a run-up, sort of thing. If he doesn’t get at least a onestorey something,’ said Doreen. ‘Vaiting, I mean.’
‘It’s scary, ‘ said Ludmilla.
‘Nothing wrong with scary,’ said Doreen.’We’re scary.’
‘Mr Poons wants to go inside the heap,’ said Ludmilla.
‘Good idea. Get them to turn that damn music off,’ said Arthur.
‘But you could get killed!’ said Ludmilla.
start he can’t get up a proper airspeed.’ ‘I can’t get a proper airspeed,’ said Arthur, struggling to his feet.‘Excuse me, ‘ said Windle, ‘The music doesn’t affect you?’ ‘It puts my teeth on edge is what it does,’ said Arthur.’Which is not a good thing for a vampire, I prob’ly don’t have to tell you.’ ‘Mr Poons thinks it does something to people, ‘ said Ludmilla.‘Sets everyone’s teeth on edge?’ said Arthur.Windle looked at the crowd. No-one was taking any notice of the Fresh Starters.‘They look as though they’re waiting for

Thomas Kinkade The Night Before Christmas

Thomas Kinkade The Night Before ChristmasThomas Kinkade The Good LifeThomas Kinkade Stairway to Paradise
don’t think one is expected to subject them to, er, physical exertion.’ ‘Should think not, man. We don’t want a lot of healthy ghosts buzzin’ around.’
There was a blood-curdling scream. It echoed around the dark pillars and arches, and was suddenly cut off.
The They peered around the corner. The Archchancellor was sitting up, rubbing his ankle.
‘What idiot left this here?’ he said.
‘Left what?’ said the Dean.
‘This blasted wire baskety wheely thing,’ said the Archchancellor. Beside
him, a tiny purple spider-like creature materialised out of the air and scuttledArchchancellor stopped abruptly. The wizards cannoned into him.‘Sounded like a blood-curdlin’ scream, ‘ he said.’Follow me!’ He ran around the corner. There was a metallic crash, and a lot of swearing. Something small and striped red and yellow, with tiny dripping fangs and three pairs of wings, flew around the corner and shot over the Dean’s head making a noise like a miniature buzzsaw. ‘Anyone know what that was?’ said the Bursar, faintly. The thing orbited the wizards and then disappeared into the darkness of the roof. ‘And I wish he wouldn’t swear so.’‘Come on,’ said the Dean. ‘We’d better see what’s happened to him.’‘Must we?’ said the Senior Wrangler.

Edvard Munch Puberty 1894

Edvard Munch Puberty 1894Unknown Artist Heighton After HoursUnknown Artist Brent Lynch Evening Lounge
didn’t have time to feed the cat, could someone go - shutupshutup!
That was One-Man-Bucket again. you’ve got no idea have you? this is ghost talk, is it? feed the cat? whatever happened to ‘I am very happy here, and waiting for you to join me’?
l .
‘I ain’t going to tell no priests,’ said Mrs Cake firmly.
It wasn’t that Mrs Cake wasn’t a religious woman.
She was, as has already been hinted, a very religious woman indeed. There wasn’t a temple, church, mosque or small group of standing stones anywhere in the city that she hadn’t attended at one time listen, if anyone else joins us, we’ll be standing on one another’s heads -l that’s not the point. that’s not the point, that’s all I’m saying. when you’re a spirit, there’s things you gotta say. Mrs Cake? ‘Yes?’l you got to tell someone about this.Mrs Cake nodded.‘Now you all go away,’ she said. ‘I’m getting one of my headaches.’The crystal ball faded.‘Well!’ said Ludmilla

Albert Moore Idyll

Albert Moore IdyllAlbert Moore GardenAlbert Moore ApplesMark Rothko Yellow and Gold2Mark Rothko Yellow and Blue
Under Things to Do, a crabbed hand had written: Die.
The Bursar couldn’t stop himself from turning the page.
Yes. Under tomorrow’s date, Things to Do: Get Born. His gaze slid sideways to a small table at the side of the room. Despite the fact that the room was quite crowded, there was an area of clear floor around the table, as if it had some kind of personal space that no-one was about to invade.
There had been special instructions in the Going Away ceremony concerning the table. It had to have a black cloth, with a few magic sigils embroidered on it.
It had a plate‘I’m thinking of coming back as a woman,’ he said conversationally.
The Bursar opened and shut his mouth a few times. ‘I’m looking forward to it,’ Poons went on.’I think it might, mm, be jolly good fun.’
The Bursar riffled desperately through his limited, containing a selection of the better ?canal’s?. It had a glass of wine. After considerable discussion among the wizards, a funny paper hat had been added as well.They all had an expectant look.The Bursar took out his watch and flicked open the ??? It was one of the ?new-fanged? pocket watches, with hands. They pointed to a quarter past nine. He shook it. A small hatch opened under the 12 and a very small demon poked its head out and said, ‘Knock it off, guv’nor, I ‘m pedalling as fast as I can.’He closed the watch again and looked around desperately. No-one else seemed anxious to come too near Windle Poons. The Bursar felt it was up to him to make polite conversation. He surveyed possible topics. They all presented problems.Windle Poons helped him out.