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Am I a terrible person for snickering to myself every time my poetry professor says "epitaph" when she means "epigraph" and not stepping in to correct her because I like the idea of writing poems about things you find on headstones?
I am, aren't I. I am going to the one hundred and twenty-third circle of Hell, the one reserved for those who obsess over the OED and love it when their professors make spelling mistakes on the chalkboard. And for the people who know how to spell "daguerreotype." Long story.
I am, aren't I. I am going to the one hundred and twenty-third circle of Hell, the one reserved for those who obsess over the OED and love it when their professors make spelling mistakes on the chalkboard. And for the people who know how to spell "daguerreotype." Long story.