According to Shelley, Bacon's prose 'is a strain which distends, and then bursts the circumference of the hearer’s mind, and pours itself forth together with it into the universal element with which it has perpetual sympathy'. So be mighty careful with it.
I like the sound of this Vespasian fellow. Wonder what else he got up to?
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1 comment:
is it natural to fart at the diner table?
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