It Is The Admirer Of Himself, And

A Human Body In No Way Resembles Those That Were Born For Ravenousness; It Hath No Hawk's Bill, No Sharp Talon, No Roughness Of Teeth, No Such Strength Of Stomach Or Heat Of Digestion, As Can Be Sufficient To Convert Or Alter Such Heavy And Fleshy Fare . . . There Is Nobody That Is Willing To Eat Even A Lifeless And A Dead Thing Even As It Is; So They Boil It, And Roast It, And Alter It By Fire And Medicines, As It Were, Changing And Quenching The Slaughtered Gore With Thousands Of Sweet Sauces, That The Palate Being Thereby Deceived May Admit Of Such Uncouth Fare.

One Made The Observation Of The People Of Asia That They Were All Slaves To One Man, Merely Because They Could Not Pronounce That Syllable No.

Agesilaus Was Very Fond Of His Children; And It Is Reported That Once Toying With Them He Got Astride Upon A Reed As Upon A Horse, And Rode About The Room; And Being Seen By One Of His Friends, He Desired Him Not To Speak Of It Till He Had Children Of His Own.

Painting Is Silent Poetry.

Books Delight To The Very Marrow Of One's Bones. They Speak To Us, Consult With Us, And Join With Us In A Living And Intense Intimacy.