He was a gaunt man in a huge straw hat, and a coat of green stuff. The weather being hot, he had no cravat, and he wore his shirt collar wide open; so that every time he spoke something was seen to twitch and jerk up in his throat like the little hammers in a harpsichord when the notes are struck. Perhaps it was Truth feebly endeavouring to leap to his lips. If so, it never reached them.

— Martin Chuzzlewit by Charles Dickens (Page 347)