The term pleonasm comes from pleonazein, a Greek word that means “more than enough.” When you use a pleonasm, you are repeating yourself.

The jolly man was happy is a pleonasm: The man was happy says the same thing without the unnecessary addition of “jolly.”

Serious writers want to make their point with a minimum of fuss and clutter. Nothing says fuss and clutter like an ill-advised pleonasm, which can come across as long-winded, pompous, ignorant, laughable, or any combination thereof.

Some pleonasms are obvious (true fact, free gift), others are less noticeable (pick and choose, young boy). They hide in our writing, then jump out and jeer at us for not catching them when we had the chance.

Here is a selection of pleonasms from a variety of sources:

PIN number  PIN is an acronym for “personal identification number.” So a PIN number is a personal identification number number.

“Woman arrested after verbal argument”  The creator of this headline forgot that all arguments are verbal.

“GED graduation begins with unexpected surprise”  Is it a surprise if it’s expected?

“Tips from a self-confessed project management nerd”  Too bad the author of this post wasn’t also a language nerd: self-confessed is a classic pleonasm.

“I’m trying to decide whether or not someone’s worth dating”  Delete “or not” and you’ve said the same thing.

“So blind he can’t see”  This is a line from “Drink Up and Go Home,” a country song from the fifties. It’s supposed to be poignant, but the pleonasm is a distraction.

“I’m told you are a very clever genius”  Attributed to Samuel Goldwyn, American movie mogul (1879-1974).

Some pleonasms are used intentionally, for emphasis. An exasperated mother tells her unruly child, “Never, ever do that again!” Few parents would second-guess that “ever.” A jilted lover writes to his sweetheart that she has left him “utterly devastated.” The poor man is swept up in the trauma and drama of rejection. Who would be so peevish as to inform him that, technically, “devastated” by itself gets the point across?

In A Dictionary of Contemporary American Usage Cornelia and Bergen Evans defend purposeful pleonasms: “A man who never said an unnecessary word would say very little during a long life and would not be pleasant company … In writing, as in conversation, an economical use of words is not always what we want.”

However, we think the Evanses would agree that a mindless redundancy is not ever what we want.