It is a rare musician that can tolerate the faintest disapproval of even his poorest work, and frequently a critic lauds to the skies all of the composer's works except one or two, and then, in order to give his eulogy an appearance of discrimination and remove the taste of unadulterated gush, inserts a mild implication that this one or these two compositions are not the greatest works in existence- that unhappy critic is practically sure to find that his eulogy has been accepted as a mere matter of course, and his criticism bitterly resented as a gratuitous and unwarranted assault upon beautiful creations which his small skull and hickory- nut heart are unable to grasp. "The Love Affairs of Great Musicians, Volume 2" by Rupert Hughes

I hope never to tell the truth again, mate, if I'm not stating a simple, unadulterated, unvarnished fact. "Lefty Locke Pitcher-Manager" by Burt L. Standish

Just plain unadulterated tea. "New Faces" by Myra Kelly