Huginn: Their rules are all messed up. The underlying premises are all mixed up; different systems clash; and nobody should be expected to make sense of it!

Muninn: Billions can handle it. What's your problem?

H: It's a miscegenation, a bastard tongue, this Anglish linguage.

M: That's English language, and its bastardy is its strength. By absorbing many words and word-rules, it has become tough and enduring. All flesh is grass, and the glory of flesh is as the flower of grass; the grass fails and the flower falls, but the words abide forever.

H: Yes, by cheating. By changing meaning and syntax and everything else, until they are not the same anymore!

M: Would you expect children to be infants forever?

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