Now thirteen Years of Age were ſwiftly run, / When the fond Father thought the time drew on / Of ſettling in the World his only Son.

A man who was having trouble recalling an important piece of information put his head between his girlfriend's breasts and had her motorboat him. You might say the man was racking his brain trying to remember.

He imitated Guicciardini's objectivity, was influenced by De Thou's fulness of narration, and “machiavellized” all his personages, as Fenelon said long ago.

That pot of numbers is itself porn for the global datarati – the folks who love nothing more than dissecting humanity by the numbers and restructuring the world to streamline our impulses in the name of efficiency.