A slavish concern for the composition of words is the sign of a bankrupt intellect, roared the Humbug, waving his cane furiously.

More from The Phantom Tollbooth

• But that's just as bad, protested Milo. "You mean just as good," corrected the Humbug. "Things which are equally bad are also equally good. Try to look at the bright side of things."
• Don't say it, ghasped the dog, and Milo could see a tear well up in his eye. "I didn't mean to hurt your feelings," said Milo, not meaning to hurt his feelings. "That's all right," said the dog, getting hold of himself. "It's an old story and a sad
• Good, said the judge, rapping his gavel three times. "I always have trouble remembering the long ones. How about 'I am'? That's the shortest sentence I know."
• I never knew words could be so confusing, Milo said to Tock as he bent down to scratch the dog's ear. "Only when you use a lot to say a little," answered Tock. Milo thought this was quite the wisest thing he'd heard all day.
• SILENCE, suggested the King. "Now, young man, what can you do to entertain us? Sing songs? Tell stories? Compose sonnets? Juggle plates? Do tumbling tricks? Which is it?" "I can't do any of those things," admitted Milo. "What an ordinary little boy," commented the king.
• Why, my cabinet members can do all sorts of things. The duke here can make mountains out of molehills. The minister splits hairs. The count makes hay while the sun shines. The earl leaves no stone unturned. And the undersecretary, he finished ominously, "hangs by a thread."