Seth Mnookin
Why I feel like a nattering fool whenever someone asks if I’ve been twittering lately.

From Ross Macdonald’s “The Doomsters”:

I cheered up slightly myself when a covey of bright young nurses came in, and went twittering down a corridor. (p. 23)

The worst is when you draw a blank, and the ash-blond ghosts of the past carry on long twittering long distance calls with your inner ear, and there’s no way to hang up. (p. 103)

Where the ash-blond ghosts were twittering, and the hype dream beat with persistent violence, with colored music, trying to drown them out. (p. 251)

(page numbers refer to the Vintage Crime/Black Lizard edition)