Ubi vulnus, spongia? Ubi postremum cicatrix tam alta, tam recens? Et ad illum Non inquam immerito medici fidi cibo et crapula distentos saeva et gravia somniare autumant.
Where is the wound? The sponge? And finally where is that scar, so deep and so fresh? I turned to him. Good doctors are quite right, I said, when they assert that people swollen with food and drink have violent and oppressive dreams.
final_alignments\Apuleius_Metamorphoses_Book1.json