What we can learn from Dr. Seuss

I loved Dr. Seuss' books when I was little. In fact, they were the first ones I learned to read. But, I have not opened them in years, and I forgot -- or perhaps never realized the beauty of the language.

His writing is so sensory. I think this is partly due to the way he makes up words to express exactly what he needs to express.

The opening of The Lorax is composed with rhythm, rhyme, consonance, and onomatopoeia. And each stanza leaves me wanting to read on to the next.

At the far end of town
where the Grickle-grass grows
and the wind smells slow-and-sour when it blows
and no birds ever sing excepting old crows...
is the Street of the Lifted Lorax.

And deep in the Grickle-grass, some people say,
if you look deep enough you can still see, today,
where the Lorax once stood
just as long as it could
before somebody lifted the Lorax away.

What was the Lorax?
Any why was it there?
And why was it lifted and taken somewhere
from the far end of town where the Grickle-grass grows?
The old Once-ler still lives here.
Ask him. He knows.

You won't see the Once-ler.
Don't knock at his door.
He stays in his Lerkim on top of his store.
He stays in his Lerkim, cold under the roor,
where he makes his own clothes
out of miff-muffered moof.
And on special dank midnights in August,
he peeks out of the shutters
and sometimes he speaks
and tells how the Lorax was lifted away.
He'll tell you, perhaps...if you're willing to pay.

One more stanza. I love the language (especially the invented words) in this passage.

Then again he came back! I was fixing some pipes
when that old nuisance Lorax came back with more gripes.
I am the Lorax, he coughed and he whiffed.
He sneezed and he snuffled. He snarggled. He sniffed.
Once-ler! he cried with a cruffulous croak.
Once-ler! You're making such smogulous smoke!
My poor Swomee-Swans...why, they can't sing a note!
No one can sing who has smog in his throat.

Cruffulous! How perfect.