Of Susurrous Mirth and Cerulean Juvenescence

And the nonpareil. I had it written and I was drunk. It may now be Saturday. And? I got drunk further and the emotions are mixed. She just smokes her cigarettes.

So I picked "Juvenescent" as the most beautiful word in the English language today - closing off another rite of the ending summer. Admittedly not the most technically beautiful, but I like how dictionary.com links it to the word elixir. It also has that wistful and winsome nostalgic aspect to it since we know the truth of it is impossible, thus granting the word itself a touch of the melancholy that I like Baudelaire feel is a central component of all things beautiful. There lies my justification and I shall go no further.


Honourable mentions, though, for cerulean tinctures and susurrous mirth. Mirth in particular I almost gave the title to, considering the definition as often exceeding the limits of reason or propriety, into "mirthquakes".

And in honour of J-luc:

First Murderer appears at the door

Macbeth
See, they encounter thee with their hearts' thanks.
Both sides are even: here I'll sit i' the midst:
Be large in mirth; anon we'll drink a measure
The table round.

Approaching the door

There's blood on thy face.

First Murderer
'Tis Banquo's then.

Macbeth
'Tis better thee without than he within.
Is he dispatch'd?

First Murderer
My lord, his throat is cut; that I did for him.

Macbeth
Thou art the best o' the cut-throats: yet he's good
That did the like for Fleance: if thou didst it,
Thou art the nonpareil.