They had saved their money for a year in order to have the price of this convention trip to Denver.

Comrade Bannerman was pig-iron, and envy made him brittle.

He should have been melted down and had the sulphur boiled out of him.

Then he would have been wrought iron; as were the men he was so envious of.
He was not envious of me, of course, because he thought I was a tramp.
Indeed he thought I was as envious as he, and so he classed the two of us as "intellectuals." From this I learned that "Intellectuals" is a name that weak men, crazed with envy, give to themselves.

They believe the successful men lack intellect; are all luck.