Myles Crawford blew his first puff violently towards the ceiling.

That’s it, he said. We are the fat. You and I are the fat in the fire. We haven’t got the chance of a snowball in hell.

THE GRANDEUR THAT WAS ROME

Wait a moment, professor MacHugh said, raising two quiet claws. We mustn’t be led away by words, by sounds of words.

We think of Rome, imperial, imperious, imperative.

He extended elocutionary arms from frayed stained shirtcuffs, pausing:

What was their civilisation? Vast, I allow: but vile. Cloacae: sewers. The Jews in the wilderness and on the mountaintop said: It is meet to be here. Let us build an altar to Jehovah. The Roman, like the Englishman who follows in his footsteps, brought to every new shore on which he set his foot