The sea speaks a language polite people never repeat. It is a colossal scavenger slang and has no respect.
We can't avoid that our daily and intimate manner of speaking is sometimes rough.
I do talk like a truck driver sometimes, or I curse. What can I say?
Vulgarity is the garlic in the salad of life.
I am not a professional speaker, nor a studied orator, but I am an old soldier and a farmer, and as my sole objective is to speak what I think, you will excuse me if I do it in my own way.
Death and vulgarity are the only two facts in the nineteenth century that one cannot explain away.
I know I'm profane. And outspoken.
Trump can't string a single grammatical sentence together, and at the podium, he is lumpen and awkward.
This woman talk like she from so deep in the country she got corn growing in her shoes.
