Mission rules were somewhat looser then, I guess, which is why we had 2 1/2 years to contemplate the language.

Anyway, the prize for the longest sentence was the first page of Hesse’s Goldmund und Narzisse which was also a paragraph. But that is the absolute beauty of German. A single thought so convoluted and nuanced. This is not to mention the newly constructed words to enhance the nuance.

I think it took me nearly a half an hour to parse that sentence, while keeping all the clauses in mind and all the modifiers, all of the cases of all the nouns. It was a true intellectual exercise.

German is a language meant to be read. English is poor by comparison. So Twain (#4) has it right, but only with an eye to comedy. There is also beauty there.

If someone holds Ken Jennings too much against her, the only appropriate response is (thanks to Mr. Rooney in Ferris Bueller’s Day Off):

So THAT’s how it is in their family…

I knew there was a reason I like Twain.

lol…

I was gradually coming to have a mysterious and shuddery reverence for this girl; nowadays whenever she pulled out from the station and got her train fairly started on one of those horizonless transcontinental sentences of hers, it was borne in upon me that I was standing in the awful presence of the Mother of the German Language. I was so impressed with this, that sometimes when she began to empty one of these sentences on me I unconsciously took the very attitude of reverence, and stood uncovered; and if words had been water, I had been drowned, sure. She had exactly the German way; whatever was in her mind to be delivered, whether a mere remark, or a sermon, or a cyclopedia, or the history of a war, she would get it into a single sentence or die. Whenever the literary German dives into a sentence, that is the last you are going to see of him till he emerges on the other side of his Atlantic with his verb in his mouth.

Hope all is well!
Stef

Five semi-colons, one colon, six dashes, fifteen commas and over 200 words. In one sentence. If I practice enough someday I might be able to write that kind of prose.

Innocents Abroad is actually a pretty good description of missionaries. (3)

And except for the mustache and cigar, the guy on the cover could be a missionary, umbrella, book bag and all. Looks like he’s doing a lot of walking.

from chapter 47
To stand before {Galillee} in the flesh–to see it as they saw it now–to sail upon the hallowed sea, and kiss the holy soil that compassed it about: these were aspirations they had cherished while a generation dragged its lagging seasons by and left its furrows in their faces and its frosts upon their hair. To look upon this picture, and sail upon this sea, they had forsaken home and its idols and journeyed thousands and thousands of miles, in weariness and tribulation. What wonder that the sordid lights of work-day prudence should pale before the glory of a hope like theirs in the full splendor of its fruition? Let them squander millions! I said–who speaks of money at a time like this?

In this frame of mind I followed, as fast as I could, the eager footsteps of the pilgrims, and stood upon the shore of the lake, and swelled, with hat and voice, the frantic hail they sent after the “ship” that was speeding by. It was a success. The toilers of the sea ran in and beached their barque. Joy sat upon every countenance.

“How much?–ask him how much, Ferguson!–how much to take us all–eight of us, and you–to Bethsaida, yonder, and to the mouth of Jordan, and to the place where the swine ran down into the sea–quick!–and we want to coast around every where–every where!–all day long!–I could sail a year in these waters!–and tell him we’ll stop at Magdala and finish at Tiberias!–ask him how much?–any thing–any thing whatever!–tell him we don’t care what the expense is!” [I said to myself, I knew how it would be.]

Ferguson–(interpreting)–”He says two Napoleons–eight dollars.”

One or two countenances fell. Then a pause.

“Too much!–we’ll give him one!”