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Go to Ravenna, and you will see the masterpieces of Christian art, the primitives of the slope: go to the Tate Gallery or the Luxembourg, and you will see the end of that slope Christian art at its last gasp. These memento mori are salutary in an age of assurance when, looking at the pictures of Cézanne, we feel, not inexcusably, that we are high above the mud and malaria.
The bones of the penitent Orton I removed to a hole I had ordered my lad to dig for them; the skull excepted, which I kept, and still keep on my table for a memento mori; and that I may never forget the good lesson which the percipient who once resided in it had given. It is often the subject of my meditation.
He commissioned Uesugi Kagekatsu to attack the Sasa troops in rear while Maeda Toshiiye menaced them from the front; he told off Hachisuka to oppose the soldier-monks of Kii; he posted Sengoku Hidehisa in Awaji to hold in check the forces of Chosokabe Motochika, and he stationed Ukita Hideiye at Okayama to provide against the contingency of hostility on the part of the Mori family.
Rats abounded in the ancient building she inhabited, and one of these had managed to ensconce itself within her favourite memento mori.
As for me, I take a little of each people's notion of duty, and of the whole I make a result comparable to the morality of good King Solomon. "July 27th. Good news. I have lost 620 grams in weight. Excellent, this water of Chatel-Guyon! I am taking the widows to dine at Riom. A sad town whose anagram constitutes it an objectionable neighbor to healing springs: Riom, Mori. "July 28th.
The third is Takeda of Kai, who struggled on one side with the Uesugi of Echigo and on the other with the Imagawa of Suruga. The fourth is Oda Nobunaga, who escorted the shogun to the capital. And the fifth is the great Mori family, who, after crushing the Ouchi and the Amako, finally came into collision with the armies of Oda under the leadership of Hideyoshi.
In the meantime, cf. "Insect Life," by J.H. Fabre, translated by the author of "Mademoiselle Mori": chapters 4 to 12, and 14 to 18; and "The Life and Love of the Insect," by J. Henri Fabre, translated by Alexander Teixeira de Mattos: chapters 11, 12 and 17. Admitting that there is a difference in the nature of the venom, I fail to see that this has any bearing on the problem in hand.
He would say queer, droll, unexpected things which passed for humour; but, save for that gleam in the eye, he could not have said them with more seeming innocence of intentional joke if he had been a monk of La Trappe looking up from the grave he was digging in order to utter "memento mori." That face of his was a great "take in."
Artois did not reply, but turned over the leaves of the book mechanically. "Oh, here is Tolstoy's signature," he said, stopping. Hermione drew her chair nearer. "What a clear handwriting!" she said. "Yes, isn't it? 'Vedi Napoli e poi mori." "Where are you going to write?" He was looking towards the outer room of the restaurant which led onto the terrace. He turned the leaves.
This self-admonition, like a memento mori or mortalis es, must be, in my opinion, a very dangerous enemy to flattery: indeed, a weight sufficient to counterbalance all the false praise of the world.
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