Insults from the Battlements
“Did those pygmy Romans, they asked, wither their feeble hands and muscles, imagine that they could mount such a heavy tower on top of a wall?” […]
“Did those pygmy Romans, they asked, wither their feeble hands and muscles, imagine that they could mount such a heavy tower on top of a wall?” […]
‘Then she handed me a sword with a highly polished hilt.
“Wield this weapon of mine,” said the woman,
“Much blood has been spilt at the bite of its blade,
And as you slash and swish it will serve you unswaveringly.”’ […]
“When I am sitting here I feel as if I were in a paradise of delights in contrast with my fear of the torments that lie before me this evening. For I burn, like a lump of molten lead in a pot, day and night. But here I have a place of refreshment every Sunday from evening to evening, at Christmas until the Epiphany, at Easter until Pentecost, and on the feasts of the purification and assumption of the mother of God. After and before these feasts I am tortured in the depths of Hell.” […]
“I would rather die here and now than let the 9 king’s daughters or their mother see me bound, and after that be insulted by all ladies and maidens as long as I live.” […]
“You are never in greater peril or nearer to death than when you set off skating while the ice is covered with even the thinnest layer of snow.” […]
“They are surprised that, from all the great and striking subjects which the world can offer, I choose to extol in my writings and to adorn with all the flowers of my rhetoric those rugged countries.” […]
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