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Today is the sesquicentennial of the Gettysburg Address, one of the most important pieces of oratory in the history of the United States.  The piece is a remarkable example of concision, some two pages of open script totaling less than 300 words, the work of a rare genius with language and, doubtlessly, extensive revision and consideration.

Much popular discourse in the early twenty-first century relies on brevity.  Text messages sent from phone to phone can total no more than 160 characters, Tweets no more than 140.  Musicians release singles rather than full albums.  Politicians speak in sound bites.  "Too long; didn't read" is seen as a valid excuse for ignorance--and it itself too long to be read, abbreviated most often to "tl;dr."  That Lincoln compressed so poignant a message (admittedly reflective of the problematic assumptions of the time) into so short a piece as he did appears to mark him as ahead of his time, more in line with our standards for text and speech than those of his contemporaries.  But it is only in appearance, for Polonius's soul of wit is not the same as concision, and it is the latter which the Address displays most prominently.

Concision is saying most in the fewest words possible, not simply saying the fewest words possible.  It offers all needed information, while brevity may not.  It attends to style, while brevity does not.  It engages with diverse vocabulary, while brevity generally does not.  It allows such devices as anaphora, while brevity does not.  It is thus a useful guide for writing, as brevity is not.  And Lincoln did it best at Gettysburg 150 years ago.