This is the sort of English!
This is the sort of English up with which I will not put.
I cannot say I know who came up with the above epigram. It is generally attributed to Winston Churchill, and for our purposes, we will assume this to be accurate, but for a quick and interesting exploration of the ambiguity surrounding the quotation and its authorship, click here.
Regardless of its authorship or even of its various formations, the rhetorical purpose of the epigram remains clear: to point out the problem with never ending a sentence with a preposition. Sometimes, following that rule yields something that sounds much sillier than would have resulted from breaking it. And for this reason, it is now commonly accepted, by authoritative English grammars, that prepositions are okay words to end sentences with. Generally, if the preposition is not superfluous, it can be placed where ever it falls most naturally. (But notice, this means that saying ‘Where are you at?’ is still wrong. I guess the English-speaking world just isn’t quite ready for such a radical change. But write to your grammarian representative if you support the movement.)
I would like to point out one more thing about the epigram. The word ‘which’ as it is used in the epigram is called a ‘relative pronoun’. In grammatical theory, a relative pronoun is a pronoun that links a relative clause to a main clause. For example, in the sentence, ‘I enjoy reading this book, which is about grammar’, the ‘which’ is a relative pronoun referring to the direct object of the main clause, the book. In this example, the subordinate clause merely gives us further information about a noun that has already been clearly identified, ‘this book’, and so it is classified as ‘nonrestrictive’. If the subordinate clause were instead to serve in defining or restricting the object to which it is referring, it would be classified as ‘restrictive’, in which case, the restrictive relative pronoun, ‘that’, should be used instead. For example, ‘I enjoy reading any book that is about grammar’. Here, the subordinate clause restricts which books I enjoy reading.
So one distinction between the two types of clauses is the relative pronoun used; another is the syntax. Nonrestrictive relative clauses are set off with commas, and restrictive clauses are not. Hence, we have a problem with Churchill’s alleged quotation. It seems quite clear that Churchill intended to form a restrictive relative clause. Most formulations of the epigram do not use a comma, and it makes little sense as a nonrestrictive clause. If Churchill had intended a nonrestrictive clause–one that merely gives further information about something in the main clause–then we should expect the main clause to make sense without that information, just as my example, ‘I enjoy reading this book, which is about grammar’, makes sense without the nonrestrictive relative clause (in which case it would read, ‘I enjoy reading this book’). But, while it would be grammatically correct, it wouldn’t make sense for Churchill to merely exclaim ‘This is the sort of English!’ Just as in my example, ‘I enjoy reading any book that is about grammar’, removing the restrictive clause fundamentally alters the meaning of the sentence (in which case it would read ‘I enjoy reading any book’). Churchill’s relative clause is in fact defining what sort of English ‘this’ is.
So Churchill probably intended to use a restrictive clause, in which case, he used the wrong relative pronoun. He should have used ‘that’. But I imagine even fewer people would get the joke if he had exclaimed, ‘This is the sort of English up with that I will not put’. That’s even sillier!
Of course he could have just said ‘I will not put up with this sort of English’, but I suppose that’s too simple.
A concise writer never writes the same thing twice in different words or rephrases what he has already written.
Some people are so narrow-minded that they think unlike anyone else in the world.
Many writers can relate to me who am tired of bad English.
Obfuscation is the consummation of a sleepless night’s endless plights.
Poetry is the most honest form of discourse.
Please, do not write with chiastic structures;
Chiastic structures are not right.
Writing long sentences, which contain many relative clauses, being both restrictive and nonrestrictive and also making excessive use of participles, while distracting from the antecedent, as many subordinate clauses are created–the doing of which causes confusion of subjects–and using the relative pronoun which is the incorrect one in the given particular context, can be, especially on fridays, an extremely distasteful and dreadfully appalling use of language that results in low readability–which cannot honestly be imputed to the innocent reader, who has merely played the part of the spectator in this crime against humanity, but rather to the importunately, impetuously, and improperly incompetent writer, who has clearly lost his mind, or else thinks himself incredibly clever–if to him such an accreditation is credibly accredited–and to whom it is infeasible to give advice for the escaping from such a vice, for, indeed, he has, in fact, grown so very entirely–if it can be objectively stated–emancipated from all social, grammatical, logistical, ordinary, conventions, constraints, practices, and principles of the art and craft of writing that not even the slightest constructive (but not constrictive) comment, critique, or criticism can catch his capricious conscience–the fickle thing it is–long enough to cause him to change his unruly and grotesque use of language–and great frustration (which, in contrast may be imputed to the reader), that causes a sudden outburst of epidemic parenthephobia (which is a made up word (meaning an irrational fear of parenthesis (particularly when contained inside other parenthetical elements) or parenthetical elements (especially as a consequence of being exposed to two too many such elements or grammatical markings as a child (or young adult))) which should not be used in a clinical context) and logophobia (a real word, meaning, as a man once put it when he was quoting the Oxford English Dictionary, “the ‘[f]ear or [even better] distrust of words’ … how can you ‘distrust’ words?”), but trust these words: there are Absolutely, Beyond Controversy, Definitely Endless Fictitious Grounds Here, I Judge, Kneaded Lightly, Mended Nicely, Onto Portions Quixotically Ranging Seven Thick Unit Verses With Xylophones You-surping Zealously their outer perimeter for the utter flawlessness and perfect infallibility of this new literary style.