FITS.
Fits are the moral tumblings ov man’s natur, the bak summersets ov hiz disposishun, the flying trapez ov the kritter himself.
Fits prompt him tew klimb a greast pole, tew fite a wind mill at short range, to go too near a mule’s heels, and to make a kussid phool ov himself generally.
Fits taketh a man bi the end ov hiz noze, and leadeth him into bak lots.
Fits hav no conshience, and no judgment.
Fits jerk a man from the path ov duty, they knok him krazy at noontime, they seize him at twilite, and twist him arly in the morning.
Sum men, and sum wimmen, are good only in fits, and bad only in fits, when they haint got a fit they are unfit for ennything.
Yes, i think so.