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  • amolosh
  • Mar 31, 2023
  • 1 min read

Updated: May 9

. . . he recommended to all those who might be impressed with a sense of their importance to bury a copy or copies of each work properly secured from damp, &c. at a depth of seven or eight feet below the surface of the earth; and on their death-beds to communicate the knowledge of this fact to some confidential friends, who in their turn were to send down the tradition to some discreet persons of the next generation; and thus . . . the knowledge that here and there the truth lay buried . . . and was to rise again in some distant age . . . —this knowledge at least was to be whispered down from generation to generation.


—Thomas De Quincey, “Walking Stewart”


Livius Andronicus: An Odyssey is peregrinatory, and an Iliad, no doubt, genocidal, but an Idyssey is gestational as regards idiosyncrasy--or oddness.

Dr Johnson: Nothing odd will do long. Tristram Shandy did not last.

Mrs Thatcher: There is no such thing as a womb with a view.

Ben Jonson: By G—, ’tis good, and if you like’t, you may!


—Petrus Tornarius, Imaginary Conversations


Snatched from the great gulf, like oysters by bibliomaniac pearl divers, . . . they first rot, then what was pearl . . . may be seen as such, and continue as such.


—Thomas Carlyle, The French Revolution, ch. 5, “The Fourth Estate”


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  • amolosh
  • 17 hours ago
  • 1 min read

“the croaking raven doth bellow for revenge”—William Shakespeare, The Tragedy of Hamlet, act 3, scene 2 (1609)


 

Better my own immortal line:

“the bellowing raven croaketh for revenge"?

What, though, to say, if Shakespeare nods!

Give us a break, undying gods!




George Cruikshank, hand-coloured lithograph (1817)



Thursday, October 16, 2025

 
 
 
  • amolosh
  • 3 days ago
  • 1 min read

Updated: 2 days ago

Life-sized bronze model of a sheep's liver with a diagram and Etruscan inscriptions used in haruspicy, or divination, found at Piacenza, Italy

 

. . . the king of Babylon . . . at the fork of the two roads . . . looks at the liver.—Ezekiel 21:21 (NKJV)

 

The liver, romantic ancients believed,

Was the seat of love and passion.

But Etruscan seers were not so deceived

When, in their haruspical fashion,

They plunged their hands into a sacrifice's guts

To grab its bulk and pull it from the paunch.

 

Postfactual hepatology avers today the liver is the seat of doubt,

Our best defense against certainty's ten thousand cuts,

Whence we may trip musing down the primrose path,

And, bypassing greedy heart and noisy brain,

Seek out the winning secrets of the human strain,

Its liverish panoply of ifs, ands, and buts.



Tuesday, August 14, 2025

 
 
 
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Photo by Peter Dreyer

 Cyclops by Christos Saccopoulos, used by kind permission of the sculptor.

Copyright © 2023 - by Peter Dreyer

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