a crumpled page (#1153)

(an instance of Generic Litter made by Marcus)

     A page torn out of an old book. The yellowing paper looks ready to crumble; but if you're careful you might be able to read it.

Go to location of this object, Marcus. 
       Every literature has its Babylon. Or rather, like that
       other Babylon, not of the spirit, Babylon is one, and
       all nations have drunk of her wine. She, too, is the
       haven desired of 'everyone that saileth any whither'
       by reason of her costliness, her merchandise of gold
       and precious stones and pearls, of fine linen and purple 
       and silk and scarlet, thyine wood and ivory, cinnamon
       and incense, wine and souls of men; and this Babylon
       too will have fallen when the sound of the flute is no
       more heard in her, and 'the light of a candle shall
       shine no more at all.' All languages are spoken in
       Babylon, yet with the same accent; here are gateways
       of the Moors in Spain, Venetian waterways, streets of
       Old Paris, and over all the undiscerning twilight. All
       men meet in Babylon who go on pilgrimages, for all roads
       end in Babylon, the Road of the San Grael, the Road of
       the Secret Rose.
               --Helen Waddell, LYRICS FROM THE CHINESE (1913)