Inflated blather is the preferred way to speak for anybody who doesn't have anything to say, or - who would rather not say.
All in Languge
Inflated blather is the preferred way to speak for anybody who doesn't have anything to say, or - who would rather not say.
A primordial people may have laid the foundation for every civilization from Europe to Asia.
Get to the point; Add no more detail than truly needed; Respect the time and intelligence of your audience
There are three ways to tell, with three different effects on memory. People remember best what they hear.
They remember less well what they read. They remember least what they learn from digital devices.
Montaigne occasionally comments in an essay what someone had to say about one other of his essays. The quote I started this essay with came from one of those occasions.
Mutual interest in a finely turned sentence connects the lettered
to the lettered.
I enjoy learning how writers write.
I like to know what they have to say about their work. Where do they they write? What strategies do they use. How do they know when they’ve written well? Variety is expected.
Similarities are more instructive.
Every collage kid knows Nietzsche said, “What doesn’t kill you, makes you stronger”. That’s also about all they know about Nietzsche. That’s all I knew, too. Until I decided to read what he said in his own words.
What does that mean? Nothing, of course, But doesn’t it sound like it means something? That’s part of the charm of poetry.
Anyone who has suffered through
a confusing, hellishly bizarre, and seemly endless nightmare will already have a sort of introduction to the writings of Franz Kafka.
Errata is the plural form of erratum. Both words refer to errors in printed material. I’m borrowing the word to include errors of word usage, in general.
By tech-speak, I mean the weirdly impenetrable terminology used by technical writers.
It’s a mystifying business, this business of humor – deadly, too, comedians are always talking about, “killin’ their audience.
Every Sunday morning the Story Lady would read the text of all the nationally sydicated comics over
the radio. I would lay the pages of the Des Moines Sunday Register out before me and do my best to follow along. I couldn’t actually
read yet, but I sure
wanted to.
Prose, Poetry, Song: three venerable envoys that carry words from our inner musings to the world outside.
When Alice upbraided Humpty Dumpty on his misuse of a word he replied scornfully, “Words mean just what I choose them to mean – no more, no less”.