United States or Côte d'Ivoire ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
Zenothemis pressed in his arms the yielding Philina; Dorion poured on the naked bosom of Drosea drops of wine, which rolled like rubies on the white breast, which was shaking with laughter, and the philosopher tried to catch these drops with his lips, as they rolled on the slippery flesh. Eucrites rose, and placing his arm on the shoulder of Nicias, led him to the end of the hall.
At that moment, a grave-looking old man, negligently dressed, walking slowly, with his head high, entered the room, and gazed at the guests quietly. Cotta made a sign to him to take a place by his side, on the same couch. "Eucrites," he said, "you are welcome. Have you composed a new treatise on philosophy this month?
I have lived according to your providence. I have lived enough." Thus speaking, he raised his arms to heaven, and he remained thoughtful a moment. Then he continued, with extreme joy "Separate thyself from life, Eucrites, like the ripe olive which falls; returning thanks to the tree which bore thee, and blessing the earth, thy nurse."
That would make, if I calculate correctly, the ninety-second that has proceeded from the Nile reed you direct with an Attic hand." Eucrites replied, stroking his silver beard "The nightingale was created to sing, and I was created to praise the immortal gods." DORION. Let us respectfully salute, in Eucrites, the last of the stoics.
"Friend," he said, smiling, "if you can still think at all of what are you thinking?" "I think that the love of women is like a garden of Adonis." "What do you mean by that?" "Do you not know, Eucrites, that women make little gardens on the terraces, in which they plant boughs in clay pots in honour of the lover of Venus? These boughs flourish a little time, and then fade."
Word Of The Day