In “A Writer’s Justification,” Adam Ehrlich Sachs wrote a really long sentence:
Even if he succeeded in lining up all of his sentences on the right-hand margin of Word, he would then send the manuscript off to an agent who, with a single minor edit on page 1, would throw all of his painstaking formatting out of whack, unwittingly eliminating, with a well-intended keystroke, years of labor; and even if she edited nothing, his editor would probably edit something, and destroy everything; and even if his editor edited nothing, his copy editor would change a “1” to a “one,” and thereby destroy everything; and even if his copy editor destroyed nothing, the manuscript would then be typeset properly, his sentences would be lined up by a professional using the appropriate technology, by no means Microsoft Word, and his flush sentences would be jettisoned for the typesetter’s even flusher ones; and even if none of that happened, if his book were never properly typeset, if it were never copy edited, if it were never edited, even if he never found an agent, even if he self-published his book, simply uploaded his Word document to the Internet—even then no one would notice his meticulously, madly flush right-hand margin, since even he, while reading, paid almost no attention to the right-hand margin, ragged or justified, he paid almost no attention to it at all, a ragged right-hand margin never bothered him as a reader whatsoever, even though as a writer it was a scene of the most acute, unrelenting psychological drama.
Just brilliant.