Honour often seems a highly artificial convention, but life in any level of society where it has been abandoned astonishes by its tortuousness.
Honour often seems a highly artificial convention, but life in any level of society where it has been abandoned astonishes by its tortuousness.
“The stranger, wond’ring, stalks, and stares upon
Rome’s antique glories, in her ruins seen;
He sees high arches, huge shining heaps of stone,
Maim’d, mutil’d, murder’d, by years’ wasteful teen:
He sees a rugged, ragged, rocky quarr
Hang in the air, with ivy laced about.
O! what can last, alas! (then cries he out)
Sith Time hath conquer’d the world’s conqueror?”
Joshua Sylvester | “Rome, Conqueror, Conquered”