Tamara de Lempicka Printemps

‘I think I know what people want,’ he said, ‘and they don’t want to read lots of small writing. They want spectacles!’
‘Because of the small writing?’ said Victor, sarcastically. ‘They want dancing girls! They want thrills! They want elephants! They want people falling off roofs! They want dreams! The world is full of little people with big dreams!you to believe you can make better moving pictures?’ said Silverfish. ‘Anyone can sell sausages! Isn’t that so, Victor?’
‘Well . . . ‘ said Victor, reluctantly. No-one except Dibbler could possibly sell Dibbler’s sausages.
‘There you are, then,’ said Silverfish.
‘The thing is’, said Victor, ‘that Mr Dibbler can even sell sausages to people that have bought ’ ‘What, you mean like dwarfs and gnomes and so on?’ said Victor. ‘No!’ ‘Tell me, Mr Dibbler,’ said Silverfish, ‘what exactly is your profession?’ ‘I sell merchandise,’ said Dibbler. ‘Mostly sausages,’ Victor volunteered. ‘And merchandise,’ said Dibbler, sharply. ‘I only sells sausages when the merchandising trade is a bit slow.’ ‘And the sale of sausages leads