Malthusian paper ant you say. Mages a plenty and enough room to spare in the noggin! My thinketer malfunctions and they're these wordlings are exudated or mend and wend through space like a thick tricky twister. Only an approval could make it worse, only the approval of the vice minister and company. Nice to meet you, Mr. Tertevian, I hope that you find your accommadations acceptable. What's that? A soup has landed in green pastures up in the Northern Abyss? I should jolly well hope so. For if it doesn't live up to expectations for the party of three I suppose we'll quit and carry the item off and be done with the electric laser weasels. It worries me, Mr. Tertevian, this feeling, this zeitgeist makes me all uncertain in feeling and all troubadoresque in manner and neither of these things I enjoy being. I have made my grand issues one of foundational concern, not for the sublime neither for the daft or the transparent. Rubbit out! The methodical application of various techniques of reasoning is of greater concern to me than the results of applying them. I am a confused person and revel in the candor or the condor of the seeds of misapprehension and blurriness that I plant.
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