"A peculiar anthologic maze, an amusing literary chaos, a farrago of quotations, a mere olla podrida of quaintness, a pot pourri of pleasant delites, a florilegium of elegant extracts, a tangled fardel of old-world flowers of thought, a faggot of odd fancies, quips, facetiae, loosely tied" (Holbrook Jackson, Anatomy of Bibliomania) by a "laudator temporis acti," a "praiser of time past" (Horace, Ars Poetica 173).
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Tuesday, August 30, 2005
Intelligent Design
W. Somerset Maugham, Of Human Bondage, chap. LXXXVII:
"Jane, your nose wants blowing."
"I haven't got a hanky, daddy."
"Tut, tut, child," he answered, as he produced a vast, brilliant bandana, "what do you suppose the Almighty gave you fingers for?"