Every person over twenty-five years old who makes that statement in cold blood ought to be deprived of the franchise." The little man leaned back against the seat, his face purple with rage.
Amory continued, addressing his remarks to the big man.
"These quarter-educated, stale-minded men such as your friend here, who _think_ they think, every question that comes up, you'll find his type in the usual ghastly muddle.

One minute it's 'the brutality and inhumanity of these Prussians'-- the next it's 'we ought to exterminate the whole German people.' They always believe that 'things are in a bad way now,' but they 'haven't any faith in these idealists.' One minute they call Wilson 'just a dreamer, not practical'-- a year later they rail at him for making his dreams realities.

They haven't clear logical ideas on one single subject except a sturdy, stolid opposition to all change.
They don't think uneducated people should be highly paid, but they won't see that if they don't pay the uneducated people their children are going to be uneducated too, and we're going round and round in a circle.
That--is the great middle class!" The big man with a broad grin on his face leaned over and smiled at the little man.
"You're catching it pretty heavy, Garvin; how do you feel ?" The little man made an attempt to smile and act as if the whole matter were so ridiculous as to be beneath notice.

But Amory was not through.
"The theory that people are fit to govern themselves rests on this man.
If he can be educated to think clearly, concisely, and logically, freed of his habit of taking refuge in platitudes and prejudices and sentimentalisms, then I'm a militant Socialist.

If he can't, then I don't think it matters much what happens to man or his systems, now or hereafter." "I am both interested and amused," said the big man.