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The last one that I remember was a man called Joshua bar Joseph, a native of Galilee.
The ash was hewn, the high white fir laid low, Down toppled they the princely pines, and all That grove of countless leaves rang with the timber’s fall.
everything in this world was subject to change and improvement.
The frog-pool wanted a king. Jove sent them Old King Log. I have been as deaf and blind and wooden as a log.
Yet I am, I must remember Old King Log. I shall float inertly in the stagnant pool. Let all the poisons that lurk in the mud hatch out.
‘A harlot’s love, a harlot’s lie’ – Cast that ancient proverb by. CALPURNIA’S heart was cleaner far, Roman matrons, than yours are.
Write no more now, Tiberius Claudius, God of the Britons, write no more.
