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I try to be gone, serious.
You made me remember:
The Irish born philologist!
Richard Chenevix Trench!
*Language is the amber in which a thousand precious thoughts have been safely embedded and preserved. It has has arrested ten-thousand lightening-flashes of genius which, unless thus fixed, might have been as bright, but would also have been as quickly passing and perishing in the lightening."*Trench was greatly honored, D.M.
Richard C. Trench is buried in Westminster Abbey.
Derbig Mooser talks like this:*Curgloft, confounded,
and bumbaz'd, On east and west by turns he gazed.
As ship that's tost with stormy weather, drives on,
and a pilot who knows not whither.*- Poetical Works. William Meston. 1767. Great, IMO. I hope.