It has always been a wonder to me where my conversational power has gone: at the present time, I cannot impress the most ordinary men.
But what do I have? The things I'm told and the things I tell, that's all. And as far as I know, that never yet made anyone fly.
Words will build no walls.
I use circumlocution too often, and instead of getting my point across, I tend to babble.
The blight of futility that lies in wait for men's speeches had fallen upon our conversation and made it a thing of empty sounds.
I pray thee cease thy counsel, Which falls into mine ears as profitless as water in a sieve.
...one can speak with the utmost clearness, and yet not be heard by anyone.
The net effect of Clarence Darrow's great speech yesterday seemed to be precisely the same as if he had bawled it up a rainspout in the interior of Afghanistan.
