I like Twain in small doses. On The Awful German Language:

An average sentence, in a German newspaper, is a sublime and impressive curiosity; it occupies a quarter of a column; it contains all the ten parts of speech–not in regular order, but mixed; it is built mainly of compound words constructed by the writer on the spot, and not to be found in any dictionary–six or seven words compacted into one, without joint or seam–that is, without hyphens; it treats of fourteen or fifteen different subjects, each enclosed in a parenthesis of its own, with here and there extra parentheses, making pens with pens: finally, all the parentheses and reparentheses are massed together between a couple of king-parentheses, one of which is placed in the first line of the majestic sentence and the other in the middle of the last line of it–AFTER WHICH COMES THE VERB, and you find out for the first time what the man has been talking about; and after the verb–merely by way of ornament, as far as I can make out–the writer shovels in “HABEN SIND GEWESEN GEHABT HAVEN GEWORDEN SEIN,” or words to that effect, and the monument is finished.