History Quotes / PurpleProse

19th Apr '18 7:12:31 PM nombretomado
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-> [[ItWasADarkAndStormyNight The nightfall, deeply saturated with every fibre of its being in the shadows of dark gloom and ocular turblence,]] encompassed wholly and thoroughly the dusty, unattended, dirty, untouched apartment building of one youthful, handsome yet very homely aspiring author of many tomes [[SdrawkcabName Report Siht]], as he descended with a blindingly powerful glowing aura of casualty and sensual smoothness onto the slowly revolving Mid-Century Modern armchair that was currently situated betwixt and between his [[AntiquatedLinguistics beige-coloured, antiquated digital binary computation machine and analysis device]]. The writer being spoken of gently placed beside his body [[SesquipedalianLoquaciousness the worn thesaurus (a thesaurus, of course, being a large tome containing lists of synonyms and antonyms), slowly yellowing and fading with the slow, constant passage of time, he had been delving into]], he lowered his slender, pale fingers onto the black keyboard, [[Literature/ThePictureOfDorianGray his creaseless, silky hands]] striking the small intractable keys in [[RapidFireTyping quick succession]] while scrutinizing his search for a four-syllable phrase that is, to him worthy enough in all its purple glory to be written into his new masterpiece of literature to a veteran musician in search for the perfect melody to play to the masses, as they are entranced by the narcotic tune. But as he continued, at a tempo that only the smallest of snails could possibly envy, to turn through page after page after page of his wide, thick-as-a-doorstopper tome of words that he usually refers to as a thesaurus, he, over the course of hundreds of pages, begins to conceptualize that what was previously his treasure chest of multisyllabic vocabulary is now wholly exhausted, having used in some way each and every one of the words in some form or another. An "avarice" here, a "defenestrate" there, occasionally an "{{egregious}}" hiding somewhere within his vast, vast body of purple literature. He swiftly and instantly put down his once sacred book, and slowly, with a profoundly resigned look on his pale face, sighed in the general direction of his desktop-based computer machine, which, as you know, he is presently attempting to write his most ultraviolet magnum-opus.

-> "Oh, my blimey Lord, or Buddha, or Jesus, or Brahma, or Shiva, or Vishnu, or Satan, or the Great Horned God, or the Wiccan Goddess, or Apollo, or Jupiter, or Zeus (Even though you and Jupiter are one and the same), or Juno, or [[Film/{{Juno}} The Other Juno]], or [[Series/DoctorWho The Bad Wolf]]," he mused, saturating the air with his entire wistfulness, while his unceasingly flickering cathode-ray tube of a monitor began rapidly displaying the laggard starting of his currently ambiguous "world-wide collection of computer networks connected by phones, fibre optics and cable lines" surfing program in the immediate preparation for transferring his extremely long-winded masterpiece he calls his work of art to a favoured collection of digital pictures and Unicode, Comic Sans MS-based text of his, an exceedingly vast, all consuming collaboratively maintained repository of all knowledge dedicated solely to the pursuit of identifying and cataloguing any plot devices, clichés and other oft-repeated themes in a multitude of different works of fiction. "For me, that is I, the infamous and [[DarthWiki/SoBadItsHorrible often mocked and much hated]] writer Report Wolfeschlegelsteinhausenberg Siht, it is [[SpockSpeak indeed]] very, very troublesome for me, Report Siht, head of the DepartmentOfRedundancyDepartment for me to find overtly flowery, unnecessary figures of larynx vibration and vocalization considered by the vast majority of the population of this planet, Earth (or Sol III) in the date of June 10 in the year 2009 A.D to be vastly unsuitable by my fellow troping comrades for such a strictly utilitarian device as a encyclopaedia of tropes and clichés in various works of fiction on a personal, digital desktop computer that was invented around six decades (or sixty years) before this particular {{Filler}}-filed sentence escaped from my full, blood-red lips. We, the writerfolk of the Earth were very significantly more productive [[NostalgiaFilter in the vast, vast decades and years and weeks and seconds before the time of today]], when our much-receded capability to apply creative epithets to our works of literature was not hindered by [[ScienceIsBad by the slow but eternal and inevitable march of technological progress]] and throngs of [[UnpleasableFanbase ungrateful readers]] spending {{Egregious}} amounts of their distasteful lives in expectation of our newest manuscripts, only to [[SnarkBait mercilessly pick apart their the flaws that said readers think they have unconcealed while reading my manuscripts]] with their friends, family and other acquaintances!"

-> With his current contemplation of purple, prose and everything eventually grinding to a slow and restful halt, young Report's poor, addled assemblage of neurons and grey matter inside his cranium was little more than a Brobdingnagian, reverb-filled empty echo chamber, almost but not quite similar to an empty theatre, where no possible thoughts could ever be retrieved and brought into the light no matter how hard he attempted to do just that. For you see with your very sapphire sightorbs, my dear, determined-to-get-to-the-end-of-this readers, what was once his normally infinitely vast supply of useful flowery nouns, verbs, prepositions and adjectives in the English language had dead run dry, much to his slowly seething and coming to the surface [[Literature/{{Twilight}} chagrin]], a chagrin that caused him to curse the heavens and all life that lived under it. Hoping to replenish his normally wonderfully large warehouse of verbose language, he quickly stole a glance at his utile and diverting [[AuthorVocabularyCalendar calendar, which displayed a new flowery linguistic unit for him to use in his contemporary works precisely once every twenty-four hours, no more and no less.]]. {{Egregious}}ly, he had forgotten to turn the folio of his Word-A-Day Calendar and bring in the new one thousand, four hundred and forty minutes.

-> Exactly eleven thousand, eight hundred and seventy seven kilometres away from the spot Mr. Report Siht was writing his ultimate work of inane, ultraviolet works of literature, on the other end of our [[InsignificantLittleBluePlanet diminutive azure planet of no cosmic importance whatsoever]], a particular random, utterly unremarkable reader of literature who was usually referred to as Mister [[TheEveryman Jonas Quinn Averageson]], who had, at this current time of nine-forty-five at night just returned after an extremely large in length distance traversed in his black, very, ''very'' slightly rusted Honda Civic fossil fuel-powered automobile from his place of current occupation, where he is paid exactly nine-fifty an hour to detail, with {{egregious}} amounts of justifying edits, exactly which character in Series/DoctorWho he thought deserved to be called a [[DarthWiki/RuinedFOREVER show-ruiner]] extremely similar to [[TheScrappy a small puppy that called himself Scrappy-Doo, very exhausted and very frustrated after a particularly high in temperature argument with an]] [[PointyHairedBoss unreasonable, though low in intellect, figure of dubious authority who will very, very soon be replaced by a Mister Fast Eddie]] (completely forgetting that this overly particular slice of life factoid was probably in absolutely no way at all relevant to the [[MythArc grand scheme]] of this very "plot", though he, Jonas Quinn Averageson, probably at this moment in space-time was completely unaware that there was at the moment a certain troper living thousands of miles away narrating each and every little thought, no matter how trivial it seemed to be to everyone, for the sole purpose of adding word count to this already excessively long entry describing the use of over-flowery prose in various works of fiction, but never mind that), eyed Report's newborn magnum opus with [[HighPressureEmotion a sudden, hot-tempered fury building up at a sizeable alacrity]]. "This disgusting piece of pretentious trash is [[UnusualEuphemism frakking]] inconceivable and it is an insult to all literature, even Fanfic/MyImmortal, that this pierce of gamma-ray prose filled shiat would ever get [[VanityPublishing published]]," he immediately [[strike:[[HaveAGayOldTime ejaculated]]]] exclaimed with an incomprehensible amount of quickly-rising exasperation, his half-rouge, half-emerald orbs of eyes still scanning the two-thousand, five hundred and sixty six piece of trash-er, I mean, slice of literary heaven. "I really, really, '''''REALLY''''' wish with all of my cardiac muscles in my heart that person who's work I am currently reading attempted, no matter how impossible that task would seem to be for the person I am currently referring, to actually get to the point in a reasonable number of compendious sentences without using [[SesquipedalianLoquaciousness excessively flowery and annoyingly lengthy expressions]], because if I'm hypothetically forced to proceed any further with this complete and utter nightmare of an encyclopaedia entry, it may quite possibly drive me to the point where my emotional state causes me to [[ExpospeakGag rapidly lose eye-liquid]]!"

to:

-> [[ItWasADarkAndStormyNight The nightfall, deeply saturated with every fibre of its being in the shadows of dark gloom and ocular turblence,]] encompassed wholly and thoroughly the dusty, unattended, dirty, untouched apartment building of one youthful, handsome yet very homely aspiring author of many tomes [[SdrawkcabName Report Siht]], as he descended with a blindingly powerful glowing aura of casualty and sensual smoothness onto the slowly revolving Mid-Century Modern armchair that was currently situated betwixt and between his [[AntiquatedLinguistics beige-coloured, antiquated digital binary computation machine and analysis device]]. The writer being spoken of gently placed beside his body [[SesquipedalianLoquaciousness the worn thesaurus (a thesaurus, of course, being a large tome containing lists of synonyms and antonyms), slowly yellowing and fading with the slow, constant passage of time, he had been delving into]], he lowered his slender, pale fingers onto the black keyboard, [[Literature/ThePictureOfDorianGray his creaseless, silky hands]] striking the small intractable keys in [[RapidFireTyping quick succession]] while scrutinizing his search for a four-syllable phrase that is, to him worthy enough in all its purple glory to be written into his new masterpiece of literature to a veteran musician in search for the perfect melody to play to the masses, as they are entranced by the narcotic tune. But as he continued, at a tempo that only the smallest of snails could possibly envy, to turn through page after page after page of his wide, thick-as-a-doorstopper tome of words that he usually refers to as a thesaurus, he, over the course of hundreds of pages, begins to conceptualize that what was previously his treasure chest of multisyllabic vocabulary is now wholly exhausted, having used in some way each and every one of the words in some form or another. An "avarice" here, a "defenestrate" there, occasionally an "{{egregious}}" "JustForFun/{{egregious}}" hiding somewhere within his vast, vast body of purple literature. He swiftly and instantly put down his once sacred book, and slowly, with a profoundly resigned look on his pale face, sighed in the general direction of his desktop-based computer machine, which, as you know, he is presently attempting to write his most ultraviolet magnum-opus.

-> "Oh, my blimey Lord, or Buddha, or Jesus, or Brahma, or Shiva, or Vishnu, or Satan, or the Great Horned God, or the Wiccan Goddess, or Apollo, or Jupiter, or Zeus (Even though you and Jupiter are one and the same), or Juno, or [[Film/{{Juno}} The Other Juno]], or [[Series/DoctorWho The Bad Wolf]]," he mused, saturating the air with his entire wistfulness, while his unceasingly flickering cathode-ray tube of a monitor began rapidly displaying the laggard starting of his currently ambiguous "world-wide collection of computer networks connected by phones, fibre optics and cable lines" surfing program in the immediate preparation for transferring his extremely long-winded masterpiece he calls his work of art to a favoured collection of digital pictures and Unicode, Comic Sans MS-based text of his, an exceedingly vast, all consuming collaboratively maintained repository of all knowledge dedicated solely to the pursuit of identifying and cataloguing any plot devices, clichés and other oft-repeated themes in a multitude of different works of fiction. "For me, that is I, the infamous and [[DarthWiki/SoBadItsHorrible often mocked and much hated]] writer Report Wolfeschlegelsteinhausenberg Siht, it is [[SpockSpeak indeed]] very, very troublesome for me, Report Siht, head of the DepartmentOfRedundancyDepartment for me to find overtly flowery, unnecessary figures of larynx vibration and vocalization considered by the vast majority of the population of this planet, Earth (or Sol III) in the date of June 10 in the year 2009 A.D to be vastly unsuitable by my fellow troping comrades for such a strictly utilitarian device as a encyclopaedia of tropes and clichés in various works of fiction on a personal, digital desktop computer that was invented around six decades (or sixty years) before this particular {{Filler}}-filed sentence escaped from my full, blood-red lips. We, the writerfolk of the Earth were very significantly more productive [[NostalgiaFilter in the vast, vast decades and years and weeks and seconds before the time of today]], when our much-receded capability to apply creative epithets to our works of literature was not hindered by [[ScienceIsBad by the slow but eternal and inevitable march of technological progress]] and throngs of [[UnpleasableFanbase ungrateful readers]] spending {{Egregious}} JustForFun/{{Egregious}} amounts of their distasteful lives in expectation of our newest manuscripts, only to [[SnarkBait mercilessly pick apart their the flaws that said readers think they have unconcealed while reading my manuscripts]] with their friends, family and other acquaintances!"

-> With his current contemplation of purple, prose and everything eventually grinding to a slow and restful halt, young Report's poor, addled assemblage of neurons and grey matter inside his cranium was little more than a Brobdingnagian, reverb-filled empty echo chamber, almost but not quite similar to an empty theatre, where no possible thoughts could ever be retrieved and brought into the light no matter how hard he attempted to do just that. For you see with your very sapphire sightorbs, my dear, determined-to-get-to-the-end-of-this readers, what was once his normally infinitely vast supply of useful flowery nouns, verbs, prepositions and adjectives in the English language had dead run dry, much to his slowly seething and coming to the surface [[Literature/{{Twilight}} chagrin]], a chagrin that caused him to curse the heavens and all life that lived under it. Hoping to replenish his normally wonderfully large warehouse of verbose language, he quickly stole a glance at his utile and diverting [[AuthorVocabularyCalendar calendar, which displayed a new flowery linguistic unit for him to use in his contemporary works precisely once every twenty-four hours, no more and no less.]]. {{Egregious}}ly, JustForFun/{{Egregious}}ly, he had forgotten to turn the folio of his Word-A-Day Calendar and bring in the new one thousand, four hundred and forty minutes.

-> Exactly eleven thousand, eight hundred and seventy seven kilometres away from the spot Mr. Report Siht was writing his ultimate work of inane, ultraviolet works of literature, on the other end of our [[InsignificantLittleBluePlanet diminutive azure planet of no cosmic importance whatsoever]], a particular random, utterly unremarkable reader of literature who was usually referred to as Mister [[TheEveryman Jonas Quinn Averageson]], who had, at this current time of nine-forty-five at night just returned after an extremely large in length distance traversed in his black, very, ''very'' slightly rusted Honda Civic fossil fuel-powered automobile from his place of current occupation, where he is paid exactly nine-fifty an hour to detail, with {{egregious}} JustForFun/{{egregious}} amounts of justifying edits, exactly which character in Series/DoctorWho he thought deserved to be called a [[DarthWiki/RuinedFOREVER show-ruiner]] extremely similar to [[TheScrappy a small puppy that called himself Scrappy-Doo, very exhausted and very frustrated after a particularly high in temperature argument with an]] [[PointyHairedBoss unreasonable, though low in intellect, figure of dubious authority who will very, very soon be replaced by a Mister Fast Eddie]] (completely forgetting that this overly particular slice of life factoid was probably in absolutely no way at all relevant to the [[MythArc grand scheme]] of this very "plot", though he, Jonas Quinn Averageson, probably at this moment in space-time was completely unaware that there was at the moment a certain troper living thousands of miles away narrating each and every little thought, no matter how trivial it seemed to be to everyone, for the sole purpose of adding word count to this already excessively long entry describing the use of over-flowery prose in various works of fiction, but never mind that), eyed Report's newborn magnum opus with [[HighPressureEmotion a sudden, hot-tempered fury building up at a sizeable alacrity]]. "This disgusting piece of pretentious trash is [[UnusualEuphemism frakking]] inconceivable and it is an insult to all literature, even Fanfic/MyImmortal, that this pierce of gamma-ray prose filled shiat would ever get [[VanityPublishing published]]," he immediately [[strike:[[HaveAGayOldTime ejaculated]]]] exclaimed with an incomprehensible amount of quickly-rising exasperation, his half-rouge, half-emerald orbs of eyes still scanning the two-thousand, five hundred and sixty six piece of trash-er, I mean, slice of literary heaven. "I really, really, '''''REALLY''''' wish with all of my cardiac muscles in my heart that person who's work I am currently reading attempted, no matter how impossible that task would seem to be for the person I am currently referring, to actually get to the point in a reasonable number of compendious sentences without using [[SesquipedalianLoquaciousness excessively flowery and annoyingly lengthy expressions]], because if I'm hypothetically forced to proceed any further with this complete and utter nightmare of an encyclopaedia entry, it may quite possibly drive me to the point where my emotional state causes me to [[ExpospeakGag rapidly lose eye-liquid]]!"
26th Mar '18 9:06:49 PM nombretomado
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-> "Oh, my blimey Lord, or Buddha, or Jesus, or Brahma, or Shiva, or Vishnu, or Satan, or the Great Horned God, or the Wiccan Goddess, or Apollo, or Jupiter, or Zeus (Even though you and Jupiter are one and the same), or Juno, or [[{{Juno}} The Other Juno]], or [[Series/DoctorWho The Bad Wolf]]," he mused, saturating the air with his entire wistfulness, while his unceasingly flickering cathode-ray tube of a monitor began rapidly displaying the laggard starting of his currently ambiguous "world-wide collection of computer networks connected by phones, fibre optics and cable lines" surfing program in the immediate preparation for transferring his extremely long-winded masterpiece he calls his work of art to a favoured collection of digital pictures and Unicode, Comic Sans MS-based text of his, an exceedingly vast, all consuming collaboratively maintained repository of all knowledge dedicated solely to the pursuit of identifying and cataloguing any plot devices, clichés and other oft-repeated themes in a multitude of different works of fiction. "For me, that is I, the infamous and [[DarthWiki/SoBadItsHorrible often mocked and much hated]] writer Report Wolfeschlegelsteinhausenberg Siht, it is [[SpockSpeak indeed]] very, very troublesome for me, Report Siht, head of the DepartmentOfRedundancyDepartment for me to find overtly flowery, unnecessary figures of larynx vibration and vocalization considered by the vast majority of the population of this planet, Earth (or Sol III) in the date of June 10 in the year 2009 A.D to be vastly unsuitable by my fellow troping comrades for such a strictly utilitarian device as a encyclopaedia of tropes and clichés in various works of fiction on a personal, digital desktop computer that was invented around six decades (or sixty years) before this particular {{Filler}}-filed sentence escaped from my full, blood-red lips. We, the writerfolk of the Earth were very significantly more productive [[NostalgiaFilter in the vast, vast decades and years and weeks and seconds before the time of today]], when our much-receded capability to apply creative epithets to our works of literature was not hindered by [[ScienceIsBad by the slow but eternal and inevitable march of technological progress]] and throngs of [[UnpleasableFanbase ungrateful readers]] spending {{Egregious}} amounts of their distasteful lives in expectation of our newest manuscripts, only to [[SnarkBait mercilessly pick apart their the flaws that said readers think they have unconcealed while reading my manuscripts]] with their friends, family and other acquaintances!"

to:

-> "Oh, my blimey Lord, or Buddha, or Jesus, or Brahma, or Shiva, or Vishnu, or Satan, or the Great Horned God, or the Wiccan Goddess, or Apollo, or Jupiter, or Zeus (Even though you and Jupiter are one and the same), or Juno, or [[{{Juno}} [[Film/{{Juno}} The Other Juno]], or [[Series/DoctorWho The Bad Wolf]]," he mused, saturating the air with his entire wistfulness, while his unceasingly flickering cathode-ray tube of a monitor began rapidly displaying the laggard starting of his currently ambiguous "world-wide collection of computer networks connected by phones, fibre optics and cable lines" surfing program in the immediate preparation for transferring his extremely long-winded masterpiece he calls his work of art to a favoured collection of digital pictures and Unicode, Comic Sans MS-based text of his, an exceedingly vast, all consuming collaboratively maintained repository of all knowledge dedicated solely to the pursuit of identifying and cataloguing any plot devices, clichés and other oft-repeated themes in a multitude of different works of fiction. "For me, that is I, the infamous and [[DarthWiki/SoBadItsHorrible often mocked and much hated]] writer Report Wolfeschlegelsteinhausenberg Siht, it is [[SpockSpeak indeed]] very, very troublesome for me, Report Siht, head of the DepartmentOfRedundancyDepartment for me to find overtly flowery, unnecessary figures of larynx vibration and vocalization considered by the vast majority of the population of this planet, Earth (or Sol III) in the date of June 10 in the year 2009 A.D to be vastly unsuitable by my fellow troping comrades for such a strictly utilitarian device as a encyclopaedia of tropes and clichés in various works of fiction on a personal, digital desktop computer that was invented around six decades (or sixty years) before this particular {{Filler}}-filed sentence escaped from my full, blood-red lips. We, the writerfolk of the Earth were very significantly more productive [[NostalgiaFilter in the vast, vast decades and years and weeks and seconds before the time of today]], when our much-receded capability to apply creative epithets to our works of literature was not hindered by [[ScienceIsBad by the slow but eternal and inevitable march of technological progress]] and throngs of [[UnpleasableFanbase ungrateful readers]] spending {{Egregious}} amounts of their distasteful lives in expectation of our newest manuscripts, only to [[SnarkBait mercilessly pick apart their the flaws that said readers think they have unconcealed while reading my manuscripts]] with their friends, family and other acquaintances!"
4th Mar '17 10:55:31 AM nombretomado
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-->'''MarkTwain''', "[[http://www.mtwain.com/A_Cure_For_The_Blues/0.html A Cure for the Blues]]"

to:

-->'''MarkTwain''', -->'''Creator/MarkTwain''', "[[http://www.mtwain.com/A_Cure_For_The_Blues/0.html A Cure for the Blues]]"
12th Jan '17 9:48:12 AM TheAmazingBlachman
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->"''One superlatively important effect of wide reading is the enlargement of vocabulary which always accompanies it. The average student is gravely impeded by the narrow range of words from which he must choose, and he soon discovers that in long compositions he cannot avoid monotony. In reading, the novice should note the varied mode of expression practiced by good authors, and should keep in his mind for future use the many appropriate synonymes he encounters. Never should an unfamiliar word be passed over without elucidation; for with a little conscientious research we may each day add to our conquests in the realm of philology, and become more and more ready for graceful independent expression.''

->''But in enlarging the vocabulary, we must beware lest we misuse our new possessions. We must remember that there are fine distinctions betwixt apparently similar words, and that language must ever be selected with intelligent care."''
-->--''[[{{Lovecraft}} HP Lovecraft]]''

to:

->"''One superlatively important effect of wide reading is the enlargement of vocabulary which always accompanies it. The average student is gravely impeded by the narrow range of words from which he must choose, and he soon discovers that in long compositions he cannot avoid monotony. In reading, the novice should note the varied mode of expression practiced by good authors, and should keep in his mind for future use the many appropriate synonymes he encounters. Never should an unfamiliar word be passed over without elucidation; for with a little conscientious research we may each day add to our conquests in the realm of philology, and become more and more ready for graceful independent expression.''

->''But
''\\\
''But
in enlarging the vocabulary, we must beware lest we misuse our new possessions. We must remember that there are fine distinctions betwixt apparently similar words, and that language must ever be selected with intelligent care."''
-->--''[[{{Lovecraft}} HP Lovecraft]]''
-->--'''Creator/HPLovecraft'''
24th Oct '16 3:37:21 PM nombretomado
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-->--Introduction of '''[[TheSmartGuy Rose Lalonde]]''''s GameFAQs walkthrough of [[TheGamePlaysYou Sburb]], ''Webcomic/{{Homestuck}}''

to:

-->--Introduction of '''[[TheSmartGuy Rose Lalonde]]''''s GameFAQs Website/GameFAQs walkthrough of [[TheGamePlaysYou Sburb]], ''Webcomic/{{Homestuck}}''
14th Oct '16 9:32:04 PM Ferot_Dreadnaught
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->''"As someone who has helped others with their writing, I'm often amazed at how much detail some writers insist on giving about trivial features of their characters, and [[BroadStrokes how]] [[TheyJustDidntCare disinterested]] they are in [[{{InternalConsistency}} sticking to them]]. Or maybe they don't realize that "Watchful eyes the shade of distant mountains" is not the same as "Mercurial irises as black and mysterious as the dark side of the moon."[[note]]Two years helping with a writing workshop at the local library. NEVER. AGAIN.[[/note]]"''

to:

->''"As someone who has helped others with their writing, I'm often amazed at how much detail some writers insist on giving about trivial features of their characters, and [[BroadStrokes how]] [[TheyJustDidntCare disinterested]] disinterested they are in [[{{InternalConsistency}} sticking to them]]. Or maybe they don't realize that "Watchful eyes the shade of distant mountains" is not the same as "Mercurial irises as black and mysterious as the dark side of the moon."[[note]]Two years helping with a writing workshop at the local library. NEVER. AGAIN.[[/note]]"''
26th May '16 6:22:50 AM TheOneWhoTropes
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-> ''Poor [[WilliamFaulkner Faulkner]]. Does he really think big emotions come from big words?''

to:

-> ''Poor [[WilliamFaulkner [[Creator/WilliamFaulkner Faulkner]]. Does he really think big emotions come from big words?''



->''Some writers are convinced that since great modern authors like [[Creator/JamesJoyce Joyce]] and [[WilliamFaulkner Faulkner]] are difficult to understand, [[TrueArtIsIncomprehensible writing that is difficult to understand is therefore great writing.]] This is a form of [[FalseCause magical thinking]], analogous to the belief that [[SympatheticMagic the warrior who dons the pelt of a lion thereby acquires its strength and cunning.]]''

to:

->''Some writers are convinced that since great modern authors like [[Creator/JamesJoyce Joyce]] and [[WilliamFaulkner [[Creator/WilliamFaulkner Faulkner]] are difficult to understand, [[TrueArtIsIncomprehensible writing that is difficult to understand is therefore great writing.]] This is a form of [[FalseCause magical thinking]], analogous to the belief that [[SympatheticMagic the warrior who dons the pelt of a lion thereby acquires its strength and cunning.]]''
1st May '16 11:48:20 PM MorningStar1337
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-> ''Poor [[WilliamFaulkner Faulkner]]. [[TakeThat Does he really think big emotions come from big words]]?''

to:

-> ''Poor [[WilliamFaulkner Faulkner]]. [[TakeThat Does he really think big emotions come from big words]]?''words?''



->''Some writers are convinced that since great modern authors like [[Creator/JamesJoyce Joyce]] and [[WilliamFaulkner Faulkner]] are difficult to understand, [[TrueArtIsIncomprehensible writing that is difficult to understand is therefore great writing.]] This is a form of magical thinking, analogous to the belief that [[SympatheticMagic the warrior who dons the pelt of a lion thereby acquires its strength and cunning.]]''

to:

->''Some writers are convinced that since great modern authors like [[Creator/JamesJoyce Joyce]] and [[WilliamFaulkner Faulkner]] are difficult to understand, [[TrueArtIsIncomprehensible writing that is difficult to understand is therefore great writing.]] This is a form of [[FalseCause magical thinking, thinking]], analogous to the belief that [[SympatheticMagic the warrior who dons the pelt of a lion thereby acquires its strength and cunning.]]''
17th Apr '16 7:25:57 AM Berrenta
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-> Exactly eleven thousand, eight hundred and seventy seven kilometres away from the spot Mr. Report Siht was writing his ultimate work of inane, ultraviolet works of literature, on the other end of our [[InsignificantLittleBluePlanet diminutive azure planet of no cosmic importance whatsoever]], a particular random, utterly unremarkable reader of literature who was usually referred to as Mister [[TheEveryman Jonas Quinn Averageson]], who had, at this current time of nine-forty-five at night just returned after an extremely large in length distance traversed in his black, very, ''very'' slightly rusted Honda Civic fossil fuel-powered automobile from his place of current occupation, where he is paid exactly nine-fifty an hour to detail, with {{egregious}} amounts of justifying edits, exactly which character in Series/DoctorWho he thought deserved to be called a [[DarthWiki/RuinedFOREVER show-ruiner]] extremely similar to [[TheScrappy a small puppy that called himself Scrappy-Doo, very exhausted and very frustrated after a particularly high in temperature argument with an]] [[PointyHairedBoss unreasonable, though low in intellect, figure of dubious authority who will very, very soon be replaced by a Mister Fast Eddie]] (completely forgetting that this overly particular slice of life factoid was probably in absolutely no way at all relevant to the [[MythArc grand scheme]] of this very "plot", though he, Jonas Quinn Averageson, probably at this moment in space-time was completely unaware that there was at the moment a certain troper living thousands of miles away narrating each and every little thought, no matter how trivial it seemed to be to everyone, for the sole purpose of adding word count to this already excessively long entry describing the use of over-flowery prose in various works of fiction, but never mind that), eyed Report's newborn magnum opus with [[HighPressureEmotion a sudden, hot-tempered fury building up at a sizeable alacrity]]. "This disgusting piece of pretentious trash is [[UnusualEuphemism frakking]] inconceivable and it is an insult to all literature, even Fanfic/MyImmortal, that this pierce of gamma-ray prose filled shiat would ever get [[VanityPublishing published]]," he immediately [[strike:[[HaveAGayOldTime ejaculated]]]] exclaimed with an incomprehensible amount of quickly-rising exasperation, his half-rouge, half-emerald orbs of eyes still scanning the two-thousand, five hundred and sixty six piece of trash-er, I mean, slice of literary heaven. "I really, really, '''''REALLY''''' wish with all of my cardiac muscles in my heart that person who's work I am currently reading attempted, no matter how impossible that task would seem to be for the person I am currently referring, to actually [[GetOnWithItAlready get to the point in a reasonable number of compendious sentences]] without using [[SesquipedalianLoquaciousness excessively flowery and annoyingly lengthy expressions]], because if I'm hypothetically forced to proceed any further with this complete and utter nightmare of an encyclopaedia entry, it may quite possibly drive me to the point where my emotional state causes me to [[ExpospeakGag rapidly lose eye-liquid]]!"

to:

-> Exactly eleven thousand, eight hundred and seventy seven kilometres away from the spot Mr. Report Siht was writing his ultimate work of inane, ultraviolet works of literature, on the other end of our [[InsignificantLittleBluePlanet diminutive azure planet of no cosmic importance whatsoever]], a particular random, utterly unremarkable reader of literature who was usually referred to as Mister [[TheEveryman Jonas Quinn Averageson]], who had, at this current time of nine-forty-five at night just returned after an extremely large in length distance traversed in his black, very, ''very'' slightly rusted Honda Civic fossil fuel-powered automobile from his place of current occupation, where he is paid exactly nine-fifty an hour to detail, with {{egregious}} amounts of justifying edits, exactly which character in Series/DoctorWho he thought deserved to be called a [[DarthWiki/RuinedFOREVER show-ruiner]] extremely similar to [[TheScrappy a small puppy that called himself Scrappy-Doo, very exhausted and very frustrated after a particularly high in temperature argument with an]] [[PointyHairedBoss unreasonable, though low in intellect, figure of dubious authority who will very, very soon be replaced by a Mister Fast Eddie]] (completely forgetting that this overly particular slice of life factoid was probably in absolutely no way at all relevant to the [[MythArc grand scheme]] of this very "plot", though he, Jonas Quinn Averageson, probably at this moment in space-time was completely unaware that there was at the moment a certain troper living thousands of miles away narrating each and every little thought, no matter how trivial it seemed to be to everyone, for the sole purpose of adding word count to this already excessively long entry describing the use of over-flowery prose in various works of fiction, but never mind that), eyed Report's newborn magnum opus with [[HighPressureEmotion a sudden, hot-tempered fury building up at a sizeable alacrity]]. "This disgusting piece of pretentious trash is [[UnusualEuphemism frakking]] inconceivable and it is an insult to all literature, even Fanfic/MyImmortal, that this pierce of gamma-ray prose filled shiat would ever get [[VanityPublishing published]]," he immediately [[strike:[[HaveAGayOldTime ejaculated]]]] exclaimed with an incomprehensible amount of quickly-rising exasperation, his half-rouge, half-emerald orbs of eyes still scanning the two-thousand, five hundred and sixty six piece of trash-er, I mean, slice of literary heaven. "I really, really, '''''REALLY''''' wish with all of my cardiac muscles in my heart that person who's work I am currently reading attempted, no matter how impossible that task would seem to be for the person I am currently referring, to actually [[GetOnWithItAlready get to the point in a reasonable number of compendious sentences]] sentences without using [[SesquipedalianLoquaciousness excessively flowery and annoyingly lengthy expressions]], because if I'm hypothetically forced to proceed any further with this complete and utter nightmare of an encyclopaedia entry, it may quite possibly drive me to the point where my emotional state causes me to [[ExpospeakGag rapidly lose eye-liquid]]!"
14th Feb '16 1:48:05 AM bwburke94
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-> Exactly eleven thousand, eight hundred and seventy seven kilometres away from the spot Mr. Report Siht was writing his ultimate work of inane, ultraviolet works of literature, on the other end of our [[InsignificantLittleBluePlanet diminutive azure planet of no cosmic importance whatsoever]], a particular random, utterly unremarkable reader of literature who was usually referred to as Mister [[TheEveryman Jonas Quinn Averageson]], who had, at this current time of nine-forty-five at night just returned after an extremely large in length distance traversed in his black, very, ''very'' slightly rusted Honda Civic fossil fuel-powered automobile from his place of current occupation, where he is paid exactly nine-fifty an hour to detail, with {{egregious}} amounts of justifying edits, exactly which character in Series/DoctorWho he thought deserved to be called a [[DarthWiki/RuinedFOREVER show-ruiner]] extremely similar to [[TheScrappy a small puppy that called himself Scrappy-Doo, very exhausted and very frustrated after a particularly high in temperature argument with an]] [[PointyHairedBoss unreasonable, though low in intellect, figure of dubious authority who will very, very soon be replaced by a Mister Fast Eddie]] (completely forgetting that this overly particular slice of life factoid was probably in absolutely no way at all relevant to the [[MythArc grand scheme]] of this very "plot", though he, Jonas Quinn Averageson, probably at this moment in space-time was completely unaware that there was at the moment a certain troper living thousands of miles away narrating each and every little thought, no matter how trivial it seemed to be to everyone, for the sole purpose of adding word count to this already excessively long entry describing the use of over-flowery prose in various works of fiction, but never mind that), eyed Report's newborn magnum opus with [[HighPressureEmotion a sudden, hot-tempered fury building up at a sizeable alacrity]]. "This disgusting piece of pretentious trash is [[UnusualEuphemism frakking]] inconceivable and it is an insult to all literature, even MyImmortal, that this pierce of gamma-ray prose filled shiat would ever get [[VanityPublishing published]]," he immediately [[strike:[[HaveAGayOldTime ejaculated]]]] exclaimed with an incomprehensible amount of quickly-rising exasperation, his half-rouge, half-emerald orbs of eyes still scanning the two-thousand, five hundred and sixty six piece of trash-er, I mean, slice of literary heaven. "I really, really, '''''REALLY''''' wish with all of my cardiac muscles in my heart that person who's work I am currently reading attempted, no matter how impossible that task would seem to be for the person I am currently referring, to actually [[GetOnWithItAlready get to the point in a reasonable number of compendious sentences]] without using [[SesquipedalianLoquaciousness excessively flowery and annoyingly lengthy expressions]], because if I'm hypothetically forced to proceed any further with this complete and utter nightmare of an encyclopaedia entry, it may quite possibly drive me to the point where my emotional state causes me to [[ExpospeakGag rapidly lose eye-liquid]]!"

to:

-> Exactly eleven thousand, eight hundred and seventy seven kilometres away from the spot Mr. Report Siht was writing his ultimate work of inane, ultraviolet works of literature, on the other end of our [[InsignificantLittleBluePlanet diminutive azure planet of no cosmic importance whatsoever]], a particular random, utterly unremarkable reader of literature who was usually referred to as Mister [[TheEveryman Jonas Quinn Averageson]], who had, at this current time of nine-forty-five at night just returned after an extremely large in length distance traversed in his black, very, ''very'' slightly rusted Honda Civic fossil fuel-powered automobile from his place of current occupation, where he is paid exactly nine-fifty an hour to detail, with {{egregious}} amounts of justifying edits, exactly which character in Series/DoctorWho he thought deserved to be called a [[DarthWiki/RuinedFOREVER show-ruiner]] extremely similar to [[TheScrappy a small puppy that called himself Scrappy-Doo, very exhausted and very frustrated after a particularly high in temperature argument with an]] [[PointyHairedBoss unreasonable, though low in intellect, figure of dubious authority who will very, very soon be replaced by a Mister Fast Eddie]] (completely forgetting that this overly particular slice of life factoid was probably in absolutely no way at all relevant to the [[MythArc grand scheme]] of this very "plot", though he, Jonas Quinn Averageson, probably at this moment in space-time was completely unaware that there was at the moment a certain troper living thousands of miles away narrating each and every little thought, no matter how trivial it seemed to be to everyone, for the sole purpose of adding word count to this already excessively long entry describing the use of over-flowery prose in various works of fiction, but never mind that), eyed Report's newborn magnum opus with [[HighPressureEmotion a sudden, hot-tempered fury building up at a sizeable alacrity]]. "This disgusting piece of pretentious trash is [[UnusualEuphemism frakking]] inconceivable and it is an insult to all literature, even MyImmortal, Fanfic/MyImmortal, that this pierce of gamma-ray prose filled shiat would ever get [[VanityPublishing published]]," he immediately [[strike:[[HaveAGayOldTime ejaculated]]]] exclaimed with an incomprehensible amount of quickly-rising exasperation, his half-rouge, half-emerald orbs of eyes still scanning the two-thousand, five hundred and sixty six piece of trash-er, I mean, slice of literary heaven. "I really, really, '''''REALLY''''' wish with all of my cardiac muscles in my heart that person who's work I am currently reading attempted, no matter how impossible that task would seem to be for the person I am currently referring, to actually [[GetOnWithItAlready get to the point in a reasonable number of compendious sentences]] without using [[SesquipedalianLoquaciousness excessively flowery and annoyingly lengthy expressions]], because if I'm hypothetically forced to proceed any further with this complete and utter nightmare of an encyclopaedia entry, it may quite possibly drive me to the point where my emotional state causes me to [[ExpospeakGag rapidly lose eye-liquid]]!"
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