P. H. Ditchfield, Books Fatal to Their Authors
“ With his brow adorned with a crown of straw sprinkled with brimstone, his Fatal Books at his side, chained to a low seat, and surrounded by piles of blazing faggots, the newness and moisture of which added greatly to his torture, in piteous agony Servetus breathed his last, a sad spectacle of crime wrought in religion's name, a fearful example of how great woes an author may bring upon himself by his arrogance and self-sufficiency. ”
