Ward Farnsworth, a law professor and former dean at the University of Texas School of Law, joins David Perell to discuss rhetorical techniques that make writing memorable, drawing on examples from the King James Bible, Winston Churchill, Abraham Lincoln, Oliver Wendell Holmes Jr., John F. Kennedy, and others. The core idea is that memorable writing relies not just on clarity and concision but on deliberate use of contrast, repetition, and structural patterns that strike the ear and linger in the mind.
The Two Languages of English: Saxon vs. Latinate Words
English has two parallel vocabularies for nearly everything: a simpler, older Germanic layer (Saxon words) and a fancier, later layer that came through French from Latin (Romance or Latinate words).
Examples: make vs. create, get vs. acquire, let vs. permit, light vs. illumination, last vs. final.
Saxon words tend to be shorter, harder-sounding, and more visceral; Latinate words tend to be longer, more abstract, and carry a whiff of formality or class.
The general rule for strong, memorable writing is to prefer Saxon words, but the real art lies in mixing the two for contrast.
Latinate words appeal to the mind and intellect; Saxon words hit the gut and are metabolized instantly by the reader.
Great writers often set up a passage with fancier Latinate language and then land on a string of simple Saxon words at the end, where the emphasis is greatest.
Famous Examples of Saxon-Dominant Writing
King James Bible, Genesis 1:3: “And God said, Let there be light, and there was light.” — 11 Saxon words, all one syllable, creating immense power through simplicity.
Winston Churchill, 1940: “We shall fight on the beaches, we shall fight on the landing grounds, we shall fight in the fields and in the streets, we shall fight in the hills; we shall never surrender.” — 32 Saxon words in a row. Churchill wrote that the oldest Saxon words “strike deepest” and deliberately avoided the more recent French-derived entries into English.
Winston Churchill, Battle of Britain: “Never in the field of human conflict was so much owed by so many to so few.” — Begins with Latinate words (human conflict) and then shifts entirely to Saxon (so much owed by so many to so few), ending with the short, hard words that ring in the ear.
King James Bible, Matthew 12:25: “Every kingdom divided against itself is brought to desolation; and every city or house divided against itself shall not stand.” — First half is Latinate (kingdom, desolation); second half is Saxon (house, shall not stand). The contrast makes the Saxon ending more forceful.
Abraham Lincoln, 1858: “I do not expect the Union to be dissolved. I do not expect the house to fall. But I do expect it will cease to be divided. It will become all one thing, or all the other.” — Lincoln says it twice: first in Latinate language (Union, dissolved), then in Saxon (house, fall). He is essentially “speaking two languages” — appealing first to the mind, then to the gut.
Oliver Wendell Holmes Jr.: “If there is any principle of the Constitution that more imperatively calls for attachment than any other, it is the principle of free thought — not free thought for those who agree with us, but freedom for the thought that we hate.” — Begins with Latinate abstraction (principle, Constitution, imperatively) and ends with the gut-punch Saxon word hate.
Repetition as a Rhetorical Tool
Anaphora: Repeating the same word or phrase at the beginning of successive clauses or sentences.
Churchill: “We shall fight… we shall fight… we shall fight…” — The repetition drives home the key words at the start of each clause, which are the most memorable positions.
Martin Luther King Jr.’s “I Have a Dream” speech is another famous example.
Epistrophe: Repeating the same word or phrase at the end of successive clauses or sentences.
Lincoln, Gettysburg Address: “…what we say here… what they did here” — ending both clauses with here.
Lincoln, Gettysburg Address: “Government of the people, by the people, for the people” — three repetitions of people at the end, following the rule of three.
Lloyd Bentsen, 1988 vice-presidential debate: “Senator, I served with Jack Kennedy. I knew Jack Kennedy. Jack Kennedy was a friend of mine. Senator, you’re no Jack Kennedy.” — Epistrophe with Jack Kennedy, made more satisfying by a brief reversal in the middle before returning to the repeated ending.
Repetition works like a sports announcer raising their voice near a goal: it signals to the listener that something important is happening. Used sparingly, it creates emphasis; used relentlessly, it sounds overwrought.
Chiasmus (Kay-as-mus): The Reversal Pattern
A chiasmus has an ABBA structure: you state something, then reverse the order of the elements.
JFK, 1961 inaugural: “Ask not what your country can do for you — ask what you can do for your country.” — Country is on the outside, you is on the inside: ABBA.
Abraham Lincoln: “I claim not to have controlled events, but confess plainly that events have controlled me.” — A conceptual chiasmus (I… events… events… me), not literal word-for-word but structurally parallel.
Henry Fielding, Tom Jones: “It is possible for a man to know something without having been at school, as it is to have been at school and to know nothing.” — A near-chiasmus built on the mismatch between schooling and knowledge.
The Lord’s Prayer: “Lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil.” — The outside words are simple (lead us not… deliver us from); the inside words are Latinate (temptation, deliver), creating a conceptual chiasmus that mirrors the substance of moving from a bad place to a good one.
Chiasmus is especially useful when you want to tell someone they have something backwards — when the relationship between two things is the reverse of what people assume.
Other occasions that lend themselves to chiasmus: any situation involving a mismatch, a reversal, or a “vice versa” relationship.
Farnsworth notes that a chiasmus makes a statement sound like a closed loop, which gives it the “hue of wisdom” — it sounds more true because it is so tidily expressed, even though beauty of expression does not guarantee truth.
How to Learn and Use These Techniques
Immerse yourself in great examples: Read Lincoln, Churchill, the King James Bible, Holmes — not to imitate them directly, but to internalize their instincts. Lincoln became Lincoln by reading the Bible and Shakespeare obsessively, but he never sounded like either; he sounded like himself.
Imitation as a learning exercise: Farnsworth has students rewrite modern Supreme Court opinions in the style of Oliver Wendell Holmes. The point is not to produce imitations but to force close attention to what makes a writer’s style work. You throw away the imitations but keep the understanding.
Write out quotes by hand: Perell notes that physically writing out a quote reveals structural patterns that reading alone does not.
Use these devices sparingly: Rhetorical patterns are like exclamation points — they call attention to the prose. Overuse makes writing sound strained or pompous. Subtlety is key.
The two stages of learning to write:
Learn to be clear and concise — omit needless words, structure sentences for clarity. This is the foundation and where most writing instruction stops.
Learn to be clear and concise and memorable — study how the best writers arrange words for maximum impact through contrast, repetition, and structural patterns. This is what separates efficient writing from writing that people actually remember.
Beware the shield as well as the sword: Beautifully written things sound more true than they may be. Studying rhetoric inoculates you against being persuaded by style alone, while also giving you tools to make your own worthy ideas more persuasive.
