They are both perfect. I was thinking chiefly of flowers. Yesterday I cut an orchid, for my button-hole. He told me it was a fine specimen of Robinsoniana, or something dreadful of that kind. It is a sad truth, but we have lost the faculty of giving lovely names to things.
Names are everything.
My one quarrel is with words. That is the reason I hate vulgar realism in literature. The man who could call a spade a spade should be compelled to use one. Of your shield, Harry, not of your spear. That is your error, Harry, believe me.