"Nothing ever happens to those black-birds.

When we get as far as hanging them, my dear brother will happen to be in Paris instead of in Rome.

You might as well try to catch a street cat by calling to it _micio, micio_! as try and catch a priest.
You may as well expect to kill a mule by kicking it as one of those animals, Burn the Vatican over their heads and think you have destroyed them like a wasps' nest, they will write you a letter from Berlin the next day saying that they are alive and well, and that Prince Bismarck protests against your proceedings." "Bravo, Sor Marzio!" cried the journalist.

"I will put that in the paper to-morrow--it is a fine fulmination.

You always refresh my ideas--why will you not write an article for us in that strain?
I will publish it as coming from a priest who has given up his orders, married, and opened a wine-shop in Naples.