The divine gift of articulate speech
THE NOTE TAKER [explosively]:
Woman! Cease this detestable boohooing instantly; or else seek the shelter of some other place of worship.
THE FLOWER GIRL [with feeble defiance]:
I’ve a right to be here if I like, same as you.
THE NOTE TAKER:
A woman who utters such depressing and disgusting sounds has no right to be anywhere–no right to live. Remember that you are a human being with a soul and the divine gift of articulate speech: that your native language is the language of Shakespeare and Milton and The Bible; and don’t sit there crooning like a bilious pigeon.
Pygmalion, Act 1 - George Bernard Shaw
