Where did Dorian Gray buy all his clothes?

..... at Forever 21



I am so sorry.

" Language is a whore, a mistress, a wife, a pen- friend, a check-out girl, a complimentary moist lemon-scented cleansing square or handy freshen- up wipette. Language is the breath of God, the dew on a fresh apple, it's the soft rain of dust that falls into a shaft of morning sun when you pull from an old bookshelf a forgotten volume of erotic diaries; language is the faint scent of urine on a pair of boxer shorts, it's a half-remembered childhood birthday party, a creak on the stair, a spluttering match held to a frosted pane, the warm wet, trusting touch of a leaking nappy, the hulk of a charred Panzer, the underside of a granite boulder, the first downy growth on the upper lip of a Mediterranean girl, cobwebs long since overrun by an old Wellington boot."

Stephen Fry, 'A Bit Of Fry And Laurie'

John Keats- Ode to a Nightingale

I have listened to this so many times I know most of it of by heart now. Beautiful poem beautifully read. That's how it should be.

18 ways to say 'awesome'

It's a nice word, but I'm a bit tired of hearing everything around me that is excellent, or even just remotely pleasant described with 'awesome'.
Luckily, the Oxford English Dictionary has searched its Historical Theosaurus and has come up with 18 new (well, old rather) ways to express something's brilliance:

thriven and thro

Thriven here appears to derive from the sense meaning ‘advanced in growth’, but thro is not found as a commendation elsewhere – instead it was used in the 14^th, 15^th, and 16^th centuries to mean ‘stubborn’. Together, as ‘thriven and thro’, they were an epithet used in alliterative poetry to call someone excellent – dating to c.1325, according to Oxford English Dictionary (OED) findings.

gradely

Although the earliest known sense of gradely probably referred to people and meant ‘ready’ or ‘prompt’, by 1400 the word could be used to refer to objects – to label them (as with all the words in this list) awesome. You might not be understood if you said this in London or Cornwall, but it’s still in use in the north of England.

eximious

Eximious comes from Latin eximius, meaning ‘select, choice, outstanding, exceptional’ – closely related to exempt – and was common in 17^th-century literature as a way of describing someone distinguished. Examples from 19^th-century literature are usually intended to be humorously bombastic, and that’s probably the way you’d be interpreted today.

jelly

Appearing surprisingly early – around 1560, according to current research – jelly may be related in some way to jolly, although the phonetic change has no parallel. The use is also a little different – describing someone excellent, but with a high opinion of themselves. There is even an adverbial derivative: jellily.

topgallant

Originally a nautical noun, relating to the head of the topmast, the adjective later developed from this literal sense to a figurative one, to designate anything lofty or grand.

prestantious

From the Latin praestāntia, meaning ‘excellence’, this adjective has the distinction of being both rare and obsolete – with only one instance recorded in the OED, from Tobias Whitaker’s 1638 The Blood of the Grape.

gallows

The earliest sense of the adjective gallows means simply ‘fit for the gallows’ – that is, deserving to be hanged. In the same way that wicked and bloody have come to mean their reverse, gallows became a slang adjective meaning ‘excellent ’, first found in 1789. An instance of gallows humour, if you will. The word is still very common in Scotland (in the form ‘gallus’).

budgeree

This Australian colloquialism dates back to the 18^th century, and derives from an Aboriginal language – as does the more familiar word budgerigar, literally ‘good (budgeri) cockatoo (gar)’ .

supernacular

Particularly used to describe drinks, supernacular is the adjective equivalent of the slang noun supernaculum, meaning  ‘a drink to be consumed to the last drop’. A jokey pseudo-Latin learned coinage based on the German expression auf den Nagel (literally ‘on to the nail’; found in the phrase auf den Nagel trinken: to drink to the last drop).

jam / jam-up

From the adverb jam or jam-up (meaning ‘closely, in close contact ’) developed the adjectival meaning ‘excellent, perfect, thorough’, in (originally American) colloquial use. One could thus, conceivably, jam up jam-up jam, if you were stacking shelves of awesome strawberry preserve.

boss

The adjective boss, meaning ‘excellent, masterly’ (essentially in the manner of a boss) developed earlier than one might imagine from attributive use of the noun in collocation with occupational titles, e.g. ‘boss shoemaker’, ‘boss carpenter’, etc. (for ‘master shoemaker’, ‘master carpenter’, etc.) — the first truly adjectival use recorded in the OED is from 1881: ‘No country in the world could make such a boss-show as the United States.’

fizzing

Many verbs with specific senses have come to have a broader adjectival slang sense of ‘excellent’ – such as ripping, topping, and rattling. Fizzing is another example, often used quasi-adverbially.

bad

Bad can, of course, be the antonym of awesome, but its slang use to mean ‘good’ is well-known – popularized by the 1987 Michael Jackson song ‘Bad’. However, this sense of the word can be found rather earlier than you might expect – at present, the OED’s first citation is from George Ade’s 1897 Pink Marsh: “She sutny fix up a pohk chop ‘at’s bad to eat.”

deevy

Deevy is an affected alteration of divvy, which is (in turn) a slang abbreviation  of divine. Early uses cited in OED include examples from the works of  Elinor Glyn (in her 1900 novel Visits of Elizabeth), Vita Sackville West, and E.F. Benson (who also uses the adverb deevily).

v.g.

V.g. – as an initialism for ‘very good’ – may well not be new to you, but you might be surprised to find that it’s been part of the English language since at least as far back as the 1860s. The OED cites it in a quotation detailing the generosity (or otherwise) of a particular prison warden: “[he] was not in their [i.e. the prisoners’] opinion sufficiently liberal with his V.G.’s (‘Very Good,’ as marked in the accounts.)”

bosker

This Australian and New Zealand slang adjective, of unknown origin, also appears in the form boscar and boshter. More familiar will be the similar bonzer (also meaning ‘extremely good’), which – it has been suggested – may be an alteration of bonanza. In turn, bonanza is the Spanish for ‘fair weather, prosperity’, and was first used in English to describe a highly productive mine.

jake

This originally American adjective is now used further afield If you want some alternatives, Australian and New Zealand slang have jakeloo,jakealoo, and jakerloo.

bodacious

Although dating back to the 19^th century with the sense ‘complete, thorough’, this adjective later appeared in American slang as a synonym for awesome, currently first attested in 1976 (and gained the meaning ‘sexually attractive’ in the 1990s). The word was greatly popularized by the teen film Bill and Ted’s Excellent Adventure (1989). It is probably a variant of the (south-western) English dialect word boldacious, a blend  of bold and audacious.



And if that's a bit too old-fashioned for you, the current Theosaurus offers some nice synonyms too!

Translations

I'm reading Thomas Mann's Death In Venice at the moment - in English, which is a bit weird as German is my mother tongue. Whilst reading, I couldn't help but admire the people who translate prose and poetry (especially poetry, which takes the whole thing one step further I assume). I always get incredibly frustrated when I attempt to translate something from German to English or the other way round.
It's not getting the meaning right, that's easy; what always baffles me is how to get the beauty across. Each language has its own charm (though I still fail to find it in French), and to transport the respective cleverness, elegance or subtlety into another language is often hard, sometimes impossible. And I'm only talking about German and English here, which at least have similarities. But there are some expressions and qualities that are simply unique to one language, and the task of finding a similarly elegant, beautiful, striking (or even deliberately ugly)  equivalent in another language always fills me with desperation. It's not just getting across what's being said - it's how it is being said, the tone, rhythm, sometimes metre. German with its consonant clusters and sibilance often sounds quite aggressive, while English is generally much more polite, even when it is at its most pompous.

That's only one difficulty to overcome when recreating certain moods and atmospheres, not to mention subtleties like irony or innuendo. And of course there is the aspect of beauty. Imagine translating a Shakespeare poem into German: The meaning is there, but now you have to find a way to make it sound beautiful too, the German way, but it still has to match the metre etc. People have done it, but I still prefer the original - and that is not just because I prefer English to my native language. I'd choose English over German any day, but when it comes to reading Goethe's or Schiller's poems, I'd stick to German. I simply think it purer, if you know what I mean. Translations can come close, but they'll never exactly match the tone or mood of the original. I believe it's impossible. But maybe that's just my view because I'm fluent in both languages. People who only speak English might still think that Death In Venice is brilliant (& I'm sure a lot do), but I'd rather go for the original - I should count myself lucky to have that choice between two languages.

Sometimes, translations can shed a different light on meanings. In Fry's Planet Word, Stephen Fry talked to a French actor who has acted in many Shakespeare plays - the French traslated versions. He said that when translated into French, the famous 'To be or not to be, that is the question' can also be interpreted this way: 'To be or not - to be, that is the question', which gives an entirely new meaning to that immortal phrase. Still, even he said that he'd prefer the English original, because it's richer and just matches the whole style better. And I have to say, when he said the line in French (NO idea what it was, but it sounded awful!), I just could not imagine it having the same effect as the original. It was longer, had more monosyllabic words, which takes away a lot of the dramatic impact.
In the same episode, Mr. Fry also talked to some Chinese - and they said that there is no verb 'to be' at all in the Chinese language (I assume they were talking about the Mandarin dialect, but it sounded like no other dialect had that verb either), so they have to find the nearest equivalent, which would be 'To live or to die', I believe - now, compare that to the original. Nothing like it, much of the intensity and intimacy is gone. Just goes to show: If possible, read it in the original.

           "We thought a day and night of steady rain
           was plenty, but it's falling again, downright tiredless
           ...much like words.
           But words don't fall exactly; they hang in there
           In the heaven of language, immune to gravity
           If not to time, entering your mind
           From no direction, travelling no distance at all,
           And with rainy persistence tease from the spread earth
           So many wonderful scents..." 

Robert Mezey, 'Words'

The Ode Less Travelled

"Finding two hendecasyllables in a row in Paradise Lost is like looking for a condom machine in the Vatican"

If you are one of those people who love poetry and would like to give it a go yourself, but don't dare to, there is a book for you. Likewise, if you're one of those 'Bah, how hard can it be, writing a few lines of poetry' philistines, you should definitely try it - it's not easy at all.
Well, it's not easy, but Stephen Fry's The Ode Less Travelled will make it seem at least achievable - and, most importantly, will show you that writing poetry is not intimidating, but great fun!

 With his typical wit, Fry leads the reader through Metre, Rhyme, Form and Diction And Poetics Today. The chapters are well-structured, he doesn't overwhelm you with pretentious terminology (but you do learn all the terms, well-explained and - should you ever be lost - again collected and explained at the end). At the end of each chapter is an Exercise for the reader to do before he/she proceeds to the next chapter, to practice what has just been learned. The whole process is broken down into understandable and achievable bits and Mr. Fry always humbly provides his own (always witty and entertaining) examples. He also urges the reader to read out loud the examples he gives from classic and famous poets, which really helps getting an ear for rhythm. Still, writing good poetry is far from easy, but with this book learning and developing is guaranteed to be neither discouraging nor embarrassing, but fun - poetry is there to give us pleasure!

So, if you're even remotely interested in poetry and want to a) try it for yourself and b) get a new sense of admiration for those who actually do write successful poems, I cannot recommend this book highly enough. Buy it!