“The author of ‘The Golden Age’ and of ‘Dream Days’ has disappointed us. There is no getting away from that melancholy fact. He has written in ‘The Wind in the Willows’, a book with hardly a smile in it, through which we wander in a haze of perplexity, uninterested by the story itself and at a loss to understand its deeper purpose. The chief character is a mole, whom the reader plumps upon on the first page whitewashing his house. Here is an initial nut to crack; a mole whitewashing. No doubt moles like their abodes to be clean; but whitewashing? Are we very stupid, or is this joke really inferior? However, let it pass. Then enters a water rat, on his way to a river picnic, in a skiff, with a hamper of provisions, including cold tongue, cold ham, French rolls, and soda water. Nut number two; for obviously a water rat is of all animals the one that would never use a boat with which to navigate a stream. Again, are we very stupid, or is this nonsense of poor quality? Later we meet a wealthy toad, who, after a tour of England in a caravan, drawn by a horse, becomes a rabid motorist. He is also an inveterate public speaker. We meet also a variety of animals whoso foibles doubtless are borrowed from mankind, and so the book goes on until the end. Beneath the allegory ordinary life is depicted more or less closely, but certainly not very amusingly or searchingly; while as a contribution to natural history the work is negligible. There are neat and fanciful passages; but they do not convince. The puzzle is, for whom is the book intended? Grown up readers will find it monotonous and elusive; children will hope in vain for more fun.”

(E. V. Lucas, review of Kenneth Grahame’s The Wind in the Willows in the Times Literary Supplement, 22 October 1908, pointed out in the 17 October 2008 issue of the same publication. Lucas was also the co-author of the collage-novel What a Life!.)

“11. There is no doubt that all these doctors sought fame by means of some innovation, and irresponsibility trafficked with our lives. This accounts for those wretched arguments at the sick-bed when no two doctors give the same opinion for fear that a colleague’s diagnosis might appear to carry more weight. It also accounts for the sad inscription occurring on some monuments which says: ‘A gang of doctors killed me.’ The art of medicine changes daily and is constantly given a new look: we are swept along by the empty words of Greek intellectuals. It is well known that those who are successful speakers have the power of life and death over us, just as if thousands of people do not exist without doctors or medicine. The Romans did so for more than 600 years, although they are not slow to accept advances – and indeed were even avid for medicine until they put it to the test and rejected it!”

(Pliny the Elder in Book XXIX (“Medicine, Doctors and Medical Practice”) of Natural History; p. 263 in John Healy’s Natural History: A Selection.)

“111. Some authorities state that groups of shells, like swarms of bees, have an especially large, old shell as their leader – one marvellously skillful at looking out for dangers – and that divers deliberately seek these shells, since, when they are caught, the rest wander aimlessly and are easily trapped in nets. Then they are heavily salted in earthenware pots; the salt eats away all the flesh, and the nuclei, as it were of their bodies, namely the individual pearls, sink to the bottom.”

(Pliny the Elder in Book IX (“Creatures of the Sea”) of Natural History; p. 136 in John Healy’s Natural History: A Selection.)

“104. But why do I mention these trivial matters when shellfish are the prime cause of the decline of morals and the adoption of an extravagant life-style? Indeed, of the whole realm of nature the sea is in many ways the most harmful to the stomach, with its great variety of dishes and tasty fish.

105. But the foregoing pale into insignificance beside the purple-fish, purple robes and pearls. As if it were not enough for the produce of the seas to be stuffed down our throats, it is also worn on the hands, in the ears, on the head and all over the body of women and men alike! What has the sea to do with clothing, the waters and waves to do with wool? The sea receives us in a proper way only when we are without clothes. There may well be a strong alliance between the sea and our stomach, but what connection is there with our backs? Are we not satisfied by feeding on dangerous things without also being clothed by them? Do we get most bodily pleasure from luxuries that cost human life?”

(Pliny the Elder in Book IX (“Creatures of the Sea”) of Natural History; pp. 134–5 in John Healy’s Natural History: A Selection.)