Speaking of medicine, rationalizers seem to enjoy latching on health excuses. Syndromes are a fertile field. Let's say you're accused of being unable to accept responsibility or otherwise behaving like an adult. That's not your fault, you counter—you suffer from Peter Pan Syndrome. Can't get around to cleaning up your room or office cubicle? Of course not—you suffer from tertiary Bag Lady Syndrome.

'I—I—I have fought a little, but not in that climbing way or that running way.' / 'No. Now you mention it,' said Billy, 'you don't look as though you were made for climbing or running—much. Well, how was it, old Hay-bales?'

I can hardly believe that Reacher, which another writeth of him, that “with the palms of his hands he could touch his knees, though he stood upright"

Evelyn recorded a suggestion that the Society might take as its coat of arms a representation of a pair of crossed telescopes surmounted by the Medicean planets.