Thomas Moran Entrance to the Grand Canal, Venice

Thomas Moran Entrance to the Grand Canal, VeniceJean Francois Millet The Walk to WorkJean Francois Millet The AngelusJean Francois Millet AngelusJean Francois Millet Harvesters Resting
haven’t contributed very much to this project, but I did come up with this, er, this stuff.’
He pulled a very large bag from the pocket of his robe and dropped it on the table. It fell over, and a few fluffy, white mis-and cautiously selected a fluffy morsel. He chewed it thoughtfully.
‘Don’t really know why I did it,’ said Peavie, blushing. ‘Just sort of had an idea that it was right.’
Silverfish went on chewing.
‘Tastes like cardboard,’ he said, after a while.
‘Sorry,’ said Peavie, trying to scoop the rest of the heap back into shapen balls rolled out. The alchemists stared at it. ‘What is it?’ said Lully. ‘Well,’ said Peavie, uncomfortably, ‘what you do is, you take some corn, and you put it in, say, a Number 3 crucible, with some cooking oil, you see, and then you put a plate or something on top of it, and when you heat it up it goes bang, I mean, not seriously bang, and when it’s stopped banging you take the plate off and it’s metamorphosed into these, er, things . . . ‘ He looked at their uncomprehending faces. ‘You can eat it,’ he mumbled apologetically. ‘If you put butter and salt on it, it tastes like salty butter.’ Silverfish reached out a chemical-stained hand