There’s no reason to tailgate someone in the slow lane, especially when I’m going 35 over the speed limit.
And those flashing lights on top of your car look ridiculous.
Love is not the only closet
I was told never to come out of.
There was also the closet of Grief.
The closet of Panic.
The closet of Terror.
The closet of Rage.
There was also the closet of Awe and Want and Bliss.
Every honest grit that we feel,
the world will ask for a stencil instead,
for the chatter of cordial manufactured polite.
I want to jackknife out of that net.
I’m currently reading and enjoying the book Latin Alive: The Survival of Latin in English and the Romance Languages by Joseph B. Solodow. For example, here’s the premise from Chapter 9 (When Words Collide: Conflict and Resolution in the Lexicon):
In outline, every story of words in conﬂict is the same. At a given time in the history of the language it happens that more than one word is available to express a certain notion – both ignem and focum, for instance, or both aurem and auriculam. It does not matter whether the two terms are exact synonyms (they never really are) or just loosely associated with each other, nor whether one or the other is well established in the language or but newly coined.
Regardless of history or semantics, the two words have at a certain point come to be regarded as equivalent. The decisive moment in the story of words in conﬂict is the elimination of one in favor of the other. One word is victorious and continues in the language, while the other drops out of use. Or sometimes they continue to co-exist, although usually with different meanings.
For example, some words changed to as to be more regular in the daughter languages: