The Romans made flutes of the leg-bones of their enemies, and this is one of them." "A melodious barbarism!" exclaimed one.
"Puts a 'stop,' at all events, to the enemy's flight!" said another.
"Almost as good as drinking out of his skull," added a third.
"Or as eating him, _tout de bon_," said Rachel.
"There must be a certain satisfaction in cannibalism," observed the cynic who had spoken before.

"There are people upon whom one would sup willingly." "As, for instance, critics, who are our natural enemies," said Rachel.
"_C'est a dire_, if critics were not too sour to be eaten." "Nay, with the sweet sauce of vengeance!" "You speak feelingly, Monsieur de Musset.

I am almost sorry, for your sake, that cannibalism is out of fashion!" "It is one of the penalties of civilization," replied de Musset, with a shrug.

"Besides, one would not wish to be an epicure." Dalrymple, who had been listening somewhat disdainfully to this skirmish of words, here touched me on the arm and turned away.
"Don't you hate this sort of high-pressure talk ?" he said, impatiently.
"I was just thinking it so brilliant." "Pshaw!--conversational fireworks--every speaker bent on eclipsing every other speaker.

It's an artificial atmosphere, my dear Damon--a sort of forcing-house for good things; and I hate forced witticisms, as I hate forced peas.