From the Wachowski Brothers’ ‘V for Vendetta‘:
Voilà! In view, a humble vaudevillian veteran, cast vicariously as both victim and villain by the vicissitudes of fate. This visage, no mere veneer of vanity, is a vestige of the vox populi, now vacant, vanished. However, this valorous visitation of a bygone vexation stands vivified, and has vowed to vanquish these venal and virulent vermin vanguarding vice and vouchsafing the violently vicious and voracious violation of volition. The only verdict is vengeance; a vendetta held as a votive, not in vain, for the value and veracity of such shall one day vindicate the vigilant and the virtuous. Verily, this vichyssoise of verbiage veers most verbose, so let me simply add that it’s my very good honour to meet you, and you may call me V.
And then, when the same chap who sent me the above sorta challenged me to repeat the feat, I managed to come up with these…
When he questioned my sanity:
Sanity is but a state of the subconscious wherein any statement that is said may be subverted into a submission of what should be, rather than simply signifying the actual status of a substantial evidence that shall eventually be seceded into history by the suppositions and studies of sociologists on sociopaths and sanity and its effects on the society where such superstitions may suppress the sanitary disposition of wholesome sincerity
And followed it up with a white flag:
What is a white flag but the withdrawal of a wildly optimistic wave of confidence upon which wades the wishes of victory reminiscent of the West’s submission of the east in all those wars that were wrought upon the earth by worms so greedy nothing remained without their wanting to waste it on the waters of their desires that nary had walls to rein in the helpless waif of wont within them.
What’s good about graciousness but for the goodwill generated by the generosity of those God-fearing people who will be greatly grateful for the goodness that the receiver gets from the giver on any given day of the Greek calendar, while game for the grave argument that there would be people so green of happiness that they shall not give you a grain of salt from the gentle ocean that gains slowly between the glad soles of their grubby shoes merely because they grieve you might gain beyond the gray skies that glide over the glad horizon beneath the gaze of a genderless God!
And finally, when he asked for a little patience:
Patience is but practice for the privileged few who can practically pretend to be perfectly presentable despite the power of the present pulling the presence of the future from within the shortest possible period of time to a point within the previously stated dimension that is pretentiously later than what should periodically follow the protaganist irrespective of his preferences for pushing the parameters of a promise presented to a person or persons to publish in thought or action the prescription so palpably pale when paired with the potential profit in not performing that of which the prior preface was but just a particular part…