On September 5, 1082, Gonzalo Salvadorez bade farewell to the monastery of Oña, and, as was the custom of all who were about to set out for war, made his will. “[…] If I be slain by the Moors, I commend my soul to God and my mortal remains to Oña, to whose altar I bequeath 1,600 maravedis, three of my best horses, two mules, my clothing with two robes of ciclatoun and three purple cloaks, and also two silver goblets. […]”[…]Among the knights who appear at the King’s Court magnificently arrayed in coloured robes and fur cloaks, the Campeador, “he of the great beard”, is an outstanding figure, and his dress is described in detail: hose of good material; elaborate shoes; a shirt of the finest linen, embroidered in gold and silver at the neck and cuffs; a rich tunic of ciclatoun, interwoven with gold; and, over this, the garment that specially distinguished him, a red pelisse with gold borders; then, over all, his priceless mantle. There is nothing Oriental about this dress. Although the costly, gold-woven cloth called ciclatoun would come generally from the East, the material was in use throughout Europe.

They tarried about a week among us, living in tents, with their little ones squattling among the litter […]

I find Clinton to be the greatest president because of all unintended humor he's supplied and for his parade of bush pigs like Lewinsky, Trip and Paula Jones.

Mr. Stanley decided to treat that as irrelevant. There ought to be a Censorship of Books. . . . Ogilvy pursued his own topic. I'm inclined to think, Stanley, myself that as a matter of fact it was the expurgated Romeo and Juliet did the mischief. . . . All they left it was the moon and stars. And the balcony and ‘My Romeo!’ Shakespeare is altogether different from the modern stuff. Altogether different. I'm not discussing Shakespeare. I don't want to Bowdlerize Shakespeare.