“Years will pass before she will reappear in his mind. But when she does he will find that she is a source of happiness, available to him till the day he dies. Sometimes he will even entertain himself with thoughts of what might have happened had he taken up the offer. Secretly, he will imagine a radiant recovery, Nettie’s acquiring a tall and maidenly body, their life together. Such foolish thoughts as a man may have in secret.” –Alice Munro, The View from Castle Rock
Chomp on this
I’m tired of people saying that some eager person is “chomping at the bit”. No, the expression is “champing at the bit” and it’s what horses do when they are eager to run; they bite down, or “champ”, on the metal “bit” in their mouth.
And if you think I’m going to let this go, you’ve got another THINK coming. Not another THING coming, another THINK. Think about what you’re saying.
Thanks for listening.
“Bridle,” I say. I hold it up to the window and look at it in the light. It’s not fancy, it’s just an old dark leather bridle. I don’t know much about them. But I know that one part of it fits in the mouth. That part’s called the bit. It’s made of steel. Reins go over the head and up to where they’re held on the neck between the fingers. The rider pulls the reins this way and that, and the horse turns. It’s simple. The bit’s heavy and cold. If you had to wear this thing between your teeth, I guess you’d catch on in a hurry. When you felt it pull, you’d know it was time. You’d know you were going somewhere.
–From ‘The Bridle’, Raymond Carver, 1982