February 12, 2013. The most recent addition to my swelling collection of words to despise and avoid: “folks”.
Reginald Boyington, Dear Dreadful Diary.
“You have no one to blame but yourself, Mr. Hathaway. You, and that vicious snarling sarcasm.”
Timothy Waldo, The Important Things.
The world is filled with the obvious.
Godfrey Tooke, Collected Aphorisms.
“I can assure you, Doctor, that I am perfectly serious. He simply was that kind of cat.”
Will Davies, She Would If She Could.
“No, no. You’re not seeing it, Janice. He said that he wanted to paint a picture of a thousand words. All jumbled together, I suppose.”
Corliss Archer, Boarding the Crazy Train.
“No one lies to you for your benefit. Some might rationalize it thus. But no, sir!”
Giles Coxe-Coburn, Belief in Insects.
“When the internet is a faint and annoying memory. Then will I smile.”
Burdyce Goode, Wonderful With Dogs.
“Actually, Diana, I was kind of hoping it would be murder. I mean only murder. Without the horrible preliminaries.”
Ruth Ledgerwood, Death by Logic.
dennis scharnberg 