I spent a couple of class hours today on the topic of punctuation. If you're suppressing a yawn, I'm sorry, but I thought I might share my take on the subject anyway — "schoolstyle," as I like to say.
It was like the Fall of Man when some "woman" naturally got the point about spacing, I said.
That's when we got flows like this:
woman without her man is in paradise
You can image the bloody battle that followed — sharp swords of punctuation drawn — with half my class going at the other half's jugular, so to speak.
"Woman, without her man, is in paradise," some said.
"Woman! Without her, man is in paradise," replied others.
The noise was awful, and the blood worse (I hate to see young people sacrificing themselves so).
But judging from some Dear-John letters I then shared, you'd hardly know who won at last. You can see why for yourselves:
Dear John,
I want a man who knows what love is. All about you are generous, kind, thoughtful people, who are not like you. Admit to being useless and inferior. You have ruined me. For other men I yearn. For you, I have no feelings whatsoever. When we're apart, I can be forever happy. Will you let me be?
Yours,
Gloria
Dear John,
I want a man who knows what love is all about. You are generous, kind, thoughtful. People who are not like you admit to being useless and inferior. You have ruined me for other men. I yearn for you. I have no feelings whatsoever when we're apart. I can be forever happy — will you let me be yours?
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