"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).
Pages
▼
Friday, May 12, 2017
Stemmata Quid Faciunt?
Ovid, Metamorphoses 13.140-141 (tr. Frank Justus Miller, rev. G.P. Goold):
For as to race and ancestry and the deeds that others than ourselves have done, I call those in no true sense our own.
nam genus et proavos et quae non fecimus ipsi,
vix ea nostra voco.