The land of the ancient Spartans is Laconia, and so from the ancient Spartans we get the adjective laconic. It describes speech which says much in few words. Example:
When Philip of Macedon was tearing through ancient Greece, he sent an envoy to Sparta with a menacing yet indirect message. Should Philip come to Sparta as friend or foe? The Spartan answer:
Neither.
What! Nobody talked to Philip this way! So he rushed back a second envoy, with a more direct message. If he invaded Laconia, he would rout the Spartans and kick them out from their lands. The Spartan response:
If.
So Philip shrugged, picked up his armies, invaded Laconia, routed the Spartans in battle, and kicked them out from many of their lands.
And my point is — well, I guess you see my point.
Terseness might sound noble or clever. But it has little to do with effectiveness. So don’t rely on it for persuasion. But do keep it for entertainment. Like this:
A group from the island of Samos once came to Sparta seeking aid. They were starving.
They made a big, long speech, as was customary at that time.
When the speech finally finished, the Spartans said they could no longer remember the first half, and so could make no sense of the second half. Petition denied.
The hungry Samians glared at each other.
And they asked for a second hearing.
This time, they brought an empty bag. They pointed to the bag and said, “The bag wants flour.”
The Spartan magistrates shook their heads. “You could have done without saying, ‘the bag’.” But fine. They granted the Samian request.
And now:
I won’t make a big speech. I will just point to my empty newsletter optin form. And I will say, “wants your information.” I hope you will grant the request.