|Publius Ovidius Naso
|Frankly, Ovid had terrible taste. Yet in the Metamorphoses there are some wonderful things mixed up with ponderously comical lapses into crudity. The goddesses who are able to sustain their nobility for twenty lines and then break down into slapstick and hit someone in the face with a dead fish. Followed by the inevitable change into a plant, a brook, a newt, a frog, a tree. But I ought to keep quiet and look at it again in Latin.
|A Search for Solitude: Pursuing the Monk's True Life. The Journals of Thomas Merton, Volume 3, 1952-1960.; Edited by Lawrence S. Cunningham. / San Francisco : Harper Collins. 1996, p. 112
|Link to Merton's Copy
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