Whenever I'm in a cranky mood, like today, I like to read through my collection of genuine Shakespearean insults. Here are a few:
Thou gleeking milk-livered fustilarian!
Thou artless elf-skinned clack-dish!
Thine horrid image doth unfix my hair.
May the worm of conscience still begnaw thy soul.
Thou lumpish ill-nurtured vassal!
Thy bones are hollow; impiety has made a feast of thee.
Thou warped rump-fed maggot-pie!
Your face is as a book, where men may read strange matters.
Now I feel better.
Monday, March 18, 2013
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