roman

Alexander the Great slept with 'The Iliad' beneath his pillow. During the waning moon, I cradle Homer__ 'Odyssey' as if it were the sweet body of a woman.

_, the wine of a womanfrom heaven is sent, more perfect than allthat a man can invent.When she came to my bed and begged me with sighsnot to tempt her towards passion nor actions unwise, I told her I__ spare her and kissed her closed eyes, then unbraided her body of its clothing disguise.While our bodies were nude bathed in candlelight fineI devoured her mouth, tender lips divine;and I drank through her thighs her feminine wine._, the wine of a woman from heaven is sent,more perfect than all that a man can invent.

I was thinking, "So, I__ Emperor, am I? What nonsense! But at least I'll be able to make people read my books now.

I regained my soul through literature after those times I'd lost it to wild-eyed gypsy girls on the European streets.

The lot of the brideto be wed before beddesired until rotten.The lot of the authorto be read before bedadmired then forgotten.

May a man live well-, and long-enough, to leave many joyful widows behind him.

You will not pass!_ Roman thundered.Great. Now he had decided he was Gandalf.

I just wish moments weren__ so fleeting!' Isaac called to the man on the roof, 'They pass so quickly!' 'Fleeting?!' responded the tilling man, 'Moments? They pass quickly?! . . . Why, once a man is finished growing, he still has twenty years of youth. After that, he has twenty years of middle age. Then, unless misfortune strikes, nature gives him twenty thoughtful years of old age. Why do you call that quickly?' And with that, the tilling man wiped his sweaty brow and continued tilling; and the dejected Isaac continued wandering. 'Stupid fool!' Isaac muttered quietly to himself as soon as he was far enough away not to be heard.

Is your life really so bad? This city is full of opportunities ____an you call it a city?_ Marcus asked. __o gymnasium, no theatre, no forum? Where is the life a Roman man should lead?

Rich will be my life if I can keep my memories full and brimming, and record them on clear-eyed mornings while I set joyously to work setting pen to holy craft.

Who is better off? The one who writes to revel in the voluptuousness of the life that surrounds them? Or the one who writes to escape the tediousness of that which awaits them outside? Whose flame will last longer?

Women writers make for rewarding (and efficient) lovers. They are clever liars to fathers and husbands; yet they never hold their tongues too long, nor keep ardent typing fingers still.

About five meters ahead, Nico was swinging his black sword with one hand, holding the scepter of Diocletian aloft with the other. He kept shouting orders at the legionnaires, but they paid him no atte

It is growing cold. Winter is putting footsteps in the meadow. What whiteness boasts that sun that comes into this wood! One would say milk-colored maidens are dancing on the petals of orchids. How coldly burns our sun! One would say its rays of light are shards of snow, one imagines the sun lives upon a snow crested peak on this day. One would say she is a woman who wears a gown of winter frost that blinds the eyes. Helplessness has weakened me. Wandering has wearied my legs.

English:_, take this eager dance you fool, don__ brandish your stick at me. I have several reasons to travel on, on to the endless sea: I have lost my love. I__e drunk my purse. My girl has gone, and left me rags to sleep upon. These old man__ gloves conceal the hands with which I__e killed but one!Francais: Idiot, prends cette danse ardente, au lieu de tendre ton bâton.J'en ai des raisons de voyager encore sur la mer infinie: J'ai perdu l'amour et j'ai bu ma bourse.Ma belle m'a quitté, j'ai ses haillons pour m'abriter. Mes gants de vieillard cachent les mains d'un fameux assassin!

Celebrate the Ides of March but remember your own warnings less as Caesar learned, you can get killed in many ways

We made love outdoorsWithout a roof, I like most, Without stove, to make love, assuming the weather be fair and balmy, and the earth beneath be clean. Our souls intertwined and gushing of dew.

Be there a picnic for the devil,an orgy for the satyr,and a wedding for the bride.