Saturday, April 23, 2011

a different kind of book: my inheritance



                                                           
Such prosperity, such superb profusion,
Slight not, Furius, idly nor reject not.
As for sesterces, all the would-be fortune,
Cease to wish it; enough, methinks, the present.

                     from Poems and Fragments, by Catullus, XXIII

                                                                              

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