This ghost is the only other person besides Neyeurme who can say it correctly because it has all these diphthongy tongue-strangling nuances to it.
indolent comfort
Between the copse and the brook, the slope was covered with pale lilac lady's-smocks, each standing separately in the grass, a frail stalk of bloom above a spread of cressy leaves.
[…] where there is then no good / For which to strive, no strife can grow up there / From faction; for none sure will claim in hell / Precedence, none, whose portion is so small / Of present pain, that with ambitious mind / Will covet more.
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