”I’ve been up to th’ top iv th’ very highest buildin’ in town, Hinnissy, an’ I wasn’t anny nearer Hivin thin if I was in th’ sthreet. Th’ stars was as far away as iver. An’ down beneath is a lot iv us runnin’ an’ lapin’ an’ jumpin’ about, pushin’ each other over, haulin’ little sthrips iv ir’n to pile up in little buildin’s that ar-re called sky-scrapers but not be th’ sky; wurrukin’ night an’ day to make a masheen that’ll carry us fr’m wan jack-rabbit colony to another an’ yellin’, ‘Pro-gress!’ Pro-gress, oho! I can see th’ stars winkin’ at each other an’ sayin’: ‘Ain’t they funny! Don’t they think they’re playin’ hell!’

”No, sir, masheens ain’t done much f’r man. I can’t get up anny kind iv fam’ly inthrest f’r a steam dredge or a hydhraulic hist. I want to see sky-scrapin’ men. But I won’t. We’re about th’ same hight as we always was, th’ same hight an’ build, composed iv th’ same inflammable an’ perishyable mateeryal, an exthra hazardous risk, unimproved an’ li’ble to collapse. We do make pro-gress but it’s th’ same kind Julyus Caesar made an’ ivry wan has made befure or since an’ in this age iv masheenery we’re still burrid be hand.”

(Mr. Dooley on Machinery)