(no subject)
Here are a couple of passages from one of the sources I'm using for my Southern history paper (my topic is the exaggeration of Southern culture during the early twentieth century):
"Earl, beside himself with passion, presses a kiss on the not reluctant cheek of his betrothed. At first blush, she is overcome with remorse at her unmaidenly forwardness.
'Oh, God,' she cries, 'pardon the weakness of woman!' and, burying her face in his bosom, her lachrymal lakes overflowed and anointed his garments with drops that were to him the myrrh of the soul.
'It is pursuit,' she sobs, 'and not possession that man enjoys, and now therefore the tender regard you have for me is about to be cremated upon the pyre of my broken spirit, and naught but an urn of ashes left for its memory.'
'Never,' replies Barringer, 'never until God himself is buried, and the dark mantle of oblivion is erected for his tombstone, shall my person or my angel forsake the fair Camilla Montrose!'"
"'We shall meet again, Barringer,' snarls Leopold, reaching for his hat.
Earl is tempted to pollute the earth with his vile heart's blood, but stays his hand for the nonce, remembering that there is a lady present."
One word: SPECTACULAR.
This is the same book that, in its non-fiction voice, states: "It is hard to believe that homefolks are dangerous; it is easy to believe that 'furriners' are." The jokes just write themselves.
Polk, William T. "Southern Accent: Uncle Remus to Oak Ridge." NY: William Morrow and Company, 1953.
"Earl, beside himself with passion, presses a kiss on the not reluctant cheek of his betrothed. At first blush, she is overcome with remorse at her unmaidenly forwardness.
'Oh, God,' she cries, 'pardon the weakness of woman!' and, burying her face in his bosom, her lachrymal lakes overflowed and anointed his garments with drops that were to him the myrrh of the soul.
'It is pursuit,' she sobs, 'and not possession that man enjoys, and now therefore the tender regard you have for me is about to be cremated upon the pyre of my broken spirit, and naught but an urn of ashes left for its memory.'
'Never,' replies Barringer, 'never until God himself is buried, and the dark mantle of oblivion is erected for his tombstone, shall my person or my angel forsake the fair Camilla Montrose!'"
"'We shall meet again, Barringer,' snarls Leopold, reaching for his hat.
Earl is tempted to pollute the earth with his vile heart's blood, but stays his hand for the nonce, remembering that there is a lady present."
One word: SPECTACULAR.
This is the same book that, in its non-fiction voice, states: "It is hard to believe that homefolks are dangerous; it is easy to believe that 'furriners' are." The jokes just write themselves.
Polk, William T. "Southern Accent: Uncle Remus to Oak Ridge." NY: William Morrow and Company, 1953.