Never had he felt the joy of the word more sweetly, never had he known so clearly that Eros dwells in language.
My words fly up, my thoughts remain below: Words without thoughts never to heaven go.
Men are men, vows are words, and words are wind.
Love is a word used too much and much too soon.
It’s a beautiful thing, the destruction of words.
It is the stillest words which bring the storm. Thoughts that come with doves’ footsteps guide the world.
In human intercourse the tragedy begins, not when there is misunderstanding about words, but when silence is not understood.
If. A two-letter word for futility.
I wish I could say twelve things at once. I wish I could say all there was to say in one word. I hate all the things that can happen between the beginning of a sentence and the end.
I use the words you taught me. If they don’t mean anything any more, teach me others. Or let me be silent.
I love and reverence the Word, the bearer of the spirit, the tool and gleaming ploughshare of progress.
I like good strong words that mean something.
