Books Are A Languid Pleasure.

There Is Some Shadow Of Delight And Delicacy Which Smiles Upon And Flatters Us Even In The Very Lap Of Melancholy.

Whatever Is Preached To Us, And Whatever We Learn, We Should Still Remember That It Is Man That Gives, And Man That Receives; It Is A Mortal Hand That Presents It To Us, It Is A Mortal Hand That Accepts It.

This Very Rome That We Behold Deserves Our Love ...: The Only Common And Universal City.

If Health And A Fair Day Smile Upon Me, I Am A Very Good Fellow; If A Corn Trouble My Toe, I Am Sullen, Out Of Humor, And Inaccessible.

After They Had Accustomed Themselves At Rome To The Spectacles Of The Slaughter Of Animals, They Proceeded To Those Of The Slaughter Of Men, To The Gladiators.