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Updated: May 7, 2025


"De gustibus non est," etc. there is really no disputing about tastes, since St. Simeon Stylites roosted upon the top of a very inconvenient pillar, and the first ostrich inaugurated the dietary proclivities of the race by gobbling down a small cart-load of cord-wood with a garnish of a peck of paving-stones!

"As Pete Trone said, 'de gustibus' and so forth, Hugh," said Sibyl's voice from the hall as she closed the door behind Graham. "Well, Sibyl; I did not intend you to hear the epithet, but I cannot with sincerity take it back," said Hugh. "I like calves," said Sibyl, "they have beautiful eyes! Good-night!" "I never can make Sibyl out!" said Hugh, as his sister disappeared.

"Faith, he's drivin' his pigs to market in foine stoil; you should only hear him, cap'en!" answered the Irishman, looking out to windward. "Begorrah, ain't it blowin', though, sir! Sure, as we used to say at ould Trinity, de gustibus non est disputandum, which means, Mister Spokeshave, as yo're cockin' up your nose to hear what I'm after sayin', it's moighty gusty, an' there's no denyin' it!"

"When Cynthia asked what she should do with this old Racketty-Packetty House, she said, 'Oh! I'll put it behind the door for the present and then it shall be carried down-stairs and burned. It's too disgraceful to be kept in any decent nursery." "Oh!" cried out Peter Piper. "Oh!" said Gustibus. "Oh! Oh! Oh!" said Meg and Peg and Kilmanskeg. "Will they burn our dear old shabby house?

Dodsley, for the benefit of the author; and in the next edition care shall be taken that this chapter be expunged, and your Lordship's titles, distinctions, arms, and good actions, be placed at the front of the preceding chapter: All which, from the words, De gustibus non est disputandum, and whatever else in this book relates to Hobby-Horses, but no more, shall stand dedicated to your Lordship.

Augustine Birrell makes it, I think, a point of friendship that a man should love George Borrow, whom I think to appreciate is an excellent but an acquired taste; there are others who would propose Mark Rutherford and the Revelation in Tanner's Lane as a sound test for a bookman's palate. But . . . de gustibus . . . !

He was well liked in St. Peter's district, and we hope that in the new one he has gone to he will gather friends, increase his usefulness, get married, and give fewer polemical lectures. De gustibus non est applies with as much force to religious as to secular life.

Without for one moment believing in the phrase "De gustibus non est disputandum" as ordinarily interpreted, one must fully recognise that palates differ.

"They are going to have a dinner of ten courses," sighed Ridiklis, "I can see them cooking it from my scullery window. And I have nothing but turnips to give you." "Who cares!" said Peter Piper, "Let's have ten courses of turnips and pretend each course is exactly like the one they are having at the Castle." "I like turnips almost better than anything almost perhaps not quite," said Gustibus.

Up went the King's cane; away ran the terrified instructor; and Frederic's classical studies ended forever. He now and then affected to quote Latin sentences, and produced such exquisitely Ciceronian phrases as these: "Stante pede morire;" "De gustibus non est disputandus;" "Tot verbas tot spondera."

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