William J. Locke
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- We have the richest language that ever a people has accreted, and we use it as if it were the poorest. We hoard up our infinite wealth of words between the boards of dictionaries and in speech dole out the worn bronze coinage of our vocabulary. We are the misers of philological history. And when we can save our pennies and pass the counterfeit coin of slang, we are as happy as if we heard a blind beggar thank us for putting a pewter sixpence into his hat.
- The Morals of Marcus Ordeyne (1905), p. 97.
- My love is hopeless! I know it. But it will feed me to my dying day.
- The Joyous Adventures of Aristide Pujol (1912), p. 103.