'And now, let me hear a little of your own language.'
I gave utterance to a few verses of Shakespeare, which caused considerable merriment.
'Do you mean to tell me,' she asked, 'that people really talk like that?'
'Of course they do.'
'And pretend to understand what it means?'
'Why, naturally.'
'Maybe they do,' she agreed. 'But only when they want to be thought funny by their friends.'
"A peculiar anthologic maze, an amusing literary chaos, a farrago of quotations, a mere olla podrida of quaintness, a pot pourri of pleasant delites, a florilegium of elegant extracts, a tangled fardel of old-world flowers of thought, a faggot of odd fancies, quips, facetiae, loosely tied" (Holbrook Jackson, Anatomy of Bibliomania) by a "laudator temporis acti," a "praiser of time past" (Horace, Ars Poetica 173).
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Friday, March 07, 2014
The English Language
Norman Douglas (1868-1952), Old Calabria (1915; rpt. London: Oxford University Press, 1938), p. 243 (from chapter XXII):