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The rolling fictions grow in strength and size,
Each author adding to the former lies.
The rolling fictions grow in strength and size,
Each author adding to the former lies.
What is this the sound and rumor? What is this that all men hear, Like the wind in hollow valleys read more
What is this the sound and rumor? What is this that all men hear, Like the wind in hollow valleys when the storm is drawing near, Like the rolling of the ocean in the eventide of fear? 'Tis the people marching on
Enemies carry a report in form different from the original.
[Lat., Nam inimici famam non ita ut nata est read more
Enemies carry a report in form different from the original.
[Lat., Nam inimici famam non ita ut nata est ferunt.]
Straightway throughout the Libyan cities flies rumor;--the report
of evil things than which nothing is swifter; it flourishes by read more
Straightway throughout the Libyan cities flies rumor;--the report
of evil things than which nothing is swifter; it flourishes by
its very activity and gains new strength by its movements; small
at first through fear, it soon raises itself aloft and sweeps
onward along the earth. Yet its head reaches the clouds. . . . A
huge and horrid monster covered with many feathers: and for
every plume a sharp eye, for every pinion a biting tongue.
Everywhere its voices sound, to everything its ears are open.
[Lat., Extemplo Libyae magnas it Fama per urbes:
Fama malum quo non velocius ullum;
Mobilitate viget, viresque acquirit eundo;
Parva metu primo; mox sese attollit in auras,
Ingrediturque solo, et caput inter nubilia condit.
. . . .
Monstrum, horrendum ingens; cui quot sunt corpore plumae
Tot vigiles oculi subter, mirabile dictu,
Tot linquae, totidem ora sonant, tot subrigit aures.]
Every rumor is believed against the unfortunate.
[Lat., Ad calamitatem quilibet rumor valet.]
Every rumor is believed against the unfortunate.
[Lat., Ad calamitatem quilibet rumor valet.]
Rumor is a pipe
Blown by surmises, jealousies, conjectures,
And of so easy and so plain a read more
Rumor is a pipe
Blown by surmises, jealousies, conjectures,
And of so easy and so plain a stop
That the blunt monster with uncounted heads,
The still-discordant wavering multitude,
Can play upon it.
I will be gone,
That pitiful rumor may report my flight
To consolate thine ear.
I will be gone,
That pitiful rumor may report my flight
To consolate thine ear.
Nature abhors a vacuum but why do most people hasten to fill in the blanks with garbage?
Nature abhors a vacuum but why do most people hasten to fill in the blanks with garbage?
