Albert Bierstadt A Quiet lake

Albert Bierstadt A Quiet lakeFabian Perez Waiting for the romance to comeFabian Perez Waiting For the Romance to Come Back IIFabian Perez VeniceFabian Perez For a Better Life III
Well, thought Throat, that’s a shame. Since they hadn’t technically belonged to him - although morally, of course, enough, for the writing. It was on the bottom of each globe, in shaky, amateurish letters, as if done by someone who had never seen writing before and was trying to copy some down. On the bottom of every globe, below the intricate little snowflake-covered building, were the words:
~fo r~3
4h~ MorPor’morally they were his - he couldn’t actually complain. Well, he could complain, of course, but only under his breath and not to anybody specific. Maybe it was all for the best, come to think of it. Stack ‘em high, sell ‘em cheap. Get ‘em off your hands - it made it much easier to spread them in a gesture of injured innocence when you said ‘Who, me?’
Mustrum Ridcully, Archchancellor of Unseen University, was a shameless autocondimentor. * He had his own special cruet put in front of him at every meal. It consisted of salt, three types of pepper, four types of mustard, four types of vinegar, fifteen different kinds of chutney and his special favourite: