Where is the little Michigander or Michigoose who is plugging along, so contentedly ensconced in his bi-valve surroundings as not to be touched by even an echo of the great state meeting of his profession?

This procedure to him is “simply Borgiaism amplified tenthousandfold by the mechanical resources of modern war.”

What a crock of shit.

I was a true phrasemonger. I could not say a plain thing in a plain way. Simplicity, that one sure feature of truth, was to me sheer silliness.