By Rosanna Staffa As a child in Italy, my father, a successful businessman, implanted in my brothers and me a belief in the mythical power of linguistic precision. He looked at us kids like a panther in repose, ready to pounce on a misused adjective or sloppy adverb. He labeled any expression that was too […]

via My Quilt: Writing and American English — BREVITY’s Nonfiction Blog