"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).
You ask why I don't want to marry you, Gallia? You're learned. My prick is forever making a grammatical error.As for me, I prefer an intelligent woman, even a plain one, to a pretty bimbo any day.
Quaeris cur nolim te ducere, Gallia? Diserta es.
saepe soloecismum mentula nostra facit.