Pray tell, my dear, our love should not pavid nor should we be pavid of love. Hmmm, well … do not be fearful that I misspelled “paved” or buried our timid love in the cement of classic language.
PAVID (pavʹid) adj. – to tremble, orig., be struck down; (RARE) fearful; afraid; timid. [WW #59]
Although the flowery literature of our classic masters has evolved into punk slang and media frenzied sound bites, now and again, we should revel in writing that is a bit indecipherable, yet vaguely familiar. Like a warm and fuzzy memory tucked away in the recesses of your mind, not quite visible in daylight.
Amongst any other population, or at a later period in the history of New England, the grim rigidity that petrified the bearded physiognomies of these good people would have augured some awful business in hand. Nathaniel Hawthorne – The Scarlet Letter, chapter 2.
How much more vacuous and assaulting of our senses in today’s “accepted” literature terms, is dear Nathaniel’s flowing description of the era encircling The Scarlet Letter: Around the world or in a more civilized future time, the fubb zombies that controlled the robo features of these chilling people would have spy-cammed the grisly game in play.
Make your next book a classic. Expand your mind and revive the imagery of fluid thought versus vulgar action.
Word of the Week: PAVID. Can you swallow its fearfulness and fit it in your next family conversation?
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