Your ego is more impinguated than your body could ever be, and your parlance manifold more dropsical, which only makes one anticipate consectaneous sphacelation, It’s tenably perspicuous that the amount of astrocytes in your callosal commisure is inversely correlated to your sense of self worth, and your surbations of adducement thereto only evinces that your self worth isn’t too fulcible. If your eristic facility were more habile than you wouldn’t feel it exigent to expatiate as you do. Brevity is the soul of wit. Tedious are your limbs and outward flourishes. Your “facundity” makes people anon desirous of your moribundity.