Words are not that important when you recognize intentions.
Not a word passes between us, not because we have nothing to say, but because we don’t have to say anything.
An honest man’s word is as good as his bond.
Words can lie. See beyond them.
Words are mere sound and smoke, dimming the heavenly light.
The spoken word and the written—there is an astonishing gulf between them. There is a way of turning sentences that completely reverses the original meaning.
The beautiful word begets the beautiful deed.
Memory is a gulf that a word can move to its lowest depths.
But my words become stained with your love. You occupy everything, you occupy everything.
Words, words, mere words, no matter from the heart.
Words weren’t dull, words were things that could make your mind hum. If you read them and let yourself feel the magic, you could live without pain, with hope, no matter what happened to you.
Words rose above the intolerably laden dumb oxen plodding through the mud. Words without meaning—wonderful words.
