The Devil's Dictionary

invested him with judicial power, surrenders its right of reason and submits itself to a chronicle as if it were a statue. Let the dictionary (for example) mark a good word as “obsolete” or “obsolescent” and few men thereafter venture to use it, whatever their need of it and however desirable its restoration to favor — whereby the process of improverishment is accelerated and speech decays. On the contrary, recognizing the truth that language must grow by innovation if it grow at all, makes new words and uses the old in an unfamiliar sense, has no following and is tartly reminded that “it isn’t in the dictionary” — although down to the time of the first lexicographer (Heaven forgive him!) no author ever had used a word that was in the dictionary. In the golden prime and high noon of English speech; when from the lips of the great Elizabethans fell words that made their own meaning and carried it in their very sound; when a Shakespeare and a Bacon were possible, and the language now rapidly perishing at one end and slowly renewed at the other was in vigorous growth and hardy preservation — sweeter than honey and stronger than a lion — the lexicographer was a person unknown, the dictionary a creation which his Creator had not created him to create.

God said: “Let Spirit perish into Form,”

And lexicographers arose, a swarm!

Thought fled and left her clothing, which they took,

And catalogued each garment in a book.

Now, from her leafy covert when she cries:

“Give me my clothes and I’ll return,” they rise

And scan the list, and say without compassion:

“Excuse us — they are mostly out of fashion.”

Sigismund Smith

LIAR, n. A lawyer with a roving commission.

LIBERTY, n. One of Imagination’s most precious possessions.

The rising People, hot and out of breath,

Roared around the palace: “Liberty or death!”

“If death will do,” the King said, “let me reign;

You’ll have, I’m sure, no reason to complain.”

Martha Braymance

LICKSPITTLE, n. A useful functionary, not infrequently found editing a newspaper. In his character of editor he is closely allied to the blackmailer by the tie of occasional identity; for in truth the lickspittle is only the blackmailer under another aspect, although the latter is frequently found as an independent species. Lickspittling is more detestable than blackmailing, precisely as the business of a confidence man is more detestable than that of a highway robber; and the parallel maintains itself throughout, for whereas few robbers will cheat, every sneak will plunder if he dare.

LIFE, n. A spiritual pickle preserving the body from decay. We live in daily apprehension of its loss; yet when lost it is not missed. The question, “Is life worth living?” has been much discussed; particularly by those who think it is not, many of whom have written at great length in support of their view and by careful observance of the laws of health enjoyed for long terms of years the honors of successful controversy.

“Life’s not worth living, and that’s the truth,”

Carelessly caroled the golden youth.

In manhood still he maintained that view

And held it more strongly the older he grew.

When kicked by a jackass at eighty-three,

“Go fetch me a surgeon at once!” cried he.

Han Soper

LIGHTHOUSE, n. A tall building on the seashore in which the government maintains a lamp and the friend of a politician.

LIMB, n. The branch of a tree or the leg of an American woman.

‘Twas a pair of boots that the lady bought,

And the salesman laced them tight

To a very remarkable height —

Higher, indeed, than I think he ought —

Higher than can be right.

For the Bible declares — but never mind:

It is hardly fit

To censure freely and fault to find

With others for sins that I’m not inclined

Myself to commit.

Each has his weakness, and though my own

Is freedom from every sin,

It still were unfair to pitch in,

Discharging the first censorious stone.

Besides, the truth compels me to say,

The boots in question were made that way.

As he drew the lace she made a grimace,