Word: wittingly
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Last but not least of the four heroes is Pietro Aretino, the bastard guttersnipe whose effrontery and wit always kept him in high society and hot water, whose scurrilous lampoons lambasted everyone from the Pope down. One of his mildest japes: when unpopular Pope Adrian VI died, a wreath appeared on his doctor's door, inscribed: "To the Deliverer of his country, S. P. Q. R." Of the four, Aretino's end was happiest. After tremendous ups & downs he settled in Venice, waxed fat and urbane, survived a tragic love affair and went down wenching...
...very rightly, too. These social attitudes are hard to build up and equally hard to hold; they are well worth emphatic support. But a closer examination of Governor Rolph, the man, would have elicited fewer surprised and pompous tut-tuts. Quite simply, the governor is an amiable nit-wit whose capacities as an administrator were taxed to the utmost when running a city government and are hopelessly inadequate to the complicated job of manipulating the machinery of a state. Though his term contains one bright gem which made him nationally known--the unconditional refusal of Tom Mooney's petition...
...also serve who only stand and wane. Your hilarious telegram is a fine specimen of "Record" wit. We adults feel that football is a product of the newer decadence. However we will play you in the Harvard Stadium at 2 P.M., on Saturday. "Lampoon." --The Yale News...
...Every reader of James Joyce's famed Ulysses* will recognize this opening passage. But many Ulysses readers are not aware that Malachi ("Buck") Mulligan represents a real person, with other claims to fame besides being a minor character in Joyce's Dublin epic. Renowned as "the wildest wit in Ireland." a doctor, a Senator, an air pilot. Oliver St. John Gogarty is also no mean versifier, occasionally no mean poet. His version of the old tale of Leda (originally printed in the Atlantic Monthly) is very Irish. One stanza: Of the tales that daughters...
...Only the Lion and the Cock, As Galen says, withstand Love's shock. So, Dearest, do not think me rude If I yield now to lassitude, But sympathise with me. I know You would not have me roar, or crow. When he can manage to subdue his wit something simpler and better emerges: I gaze and gaze when I behold The meadows springing green and gold. I gaze until my mind is naught But wonderful and wordless thought! Till, suddenly, surpassing wit, Spontaneous meadows spring in it; And I am but a glass between Un-walked in meadows, gold...