Book, Chapter

1    1,  14|       triple fool, when I was dying of hunger? I suppose I should
2    2,  43|    being born or else they're dying. As to the sod and the honeycomb
3    3, 102|    besought him not to kill a dying man. "You might have some
4    5, 143|        that a lovely woman is dying for love of you, Encolpius,
5    5, 160|      extraordinary languor, a dying vibration, quick and soft
6    5, 160|  smile trembled, faint as the dying sound of the crotals."~
7    6     | another, and meted out to the dying, by way of compensation,