Words are but an entrance, a
door cut deep into cold clay.
Most of the things we decide are not what we know to be the best. We say 'yes' mearely because
we are driven into a corner and must say something.
The most important things to say are those which often I did not think necessary for me to say
because they were too obvious.
Words without ideas are like sails without wind.
Words are the coins making up the currency of sentences, and there are always too many small coins.
It's okay to send flowers, but don't let flowers do all the talking. Flowers have a
limited vocabulary. About the best flowers can say is that you remembered.
Speech is a mirror of the soul: as a man speaks, so is he.
Most people have to talk so they won't hear.
A broken bone can heal, but the wound a word opens can fester forever.
No man means all he says, and yet very few say all they mean, for words are slippery and
thought is viscous.
Words. Words are all she has left now.
Sticks and stones only break bones. Words can shatter the soul. A little, quiet, picked-
on 10-year-old runs away because kids on the bus laugh at him. A sensitive ninth-grader flips
out because a group of self-rising girls decide to throw her to the wolves. We tell ourselves
that it takes more than that to send someone over the edge. Maybe so, maybe not.
But there are no erasers.
I don't talk things, sir. I talk the meaning of things. I sit here and
know I'm alive.
I used a lot of quotes when I was young. To make me sound mature, to make me feel like I
wasn't the second-class entity that I'd always thought I was.
Goodbyes will always hurt, pictures will never replace being there, thanks is a feeble
word, words can never replace feelings.
The dead man and the gods who rule the dead know whose act this was. Words are not friends.
When you say things in anger, they leave a scar just like this one. You can put a knife
in a man and draw it out. It won't matter how many times you say I'm sorry, the wound is still
there. A verbal wound is as bad as a physical one.
One wants something that will encourage conversation, particularly at the end of the season
when everyone has practically said whatever they had to say, which, in most cases, was probably
not much.
Pray don't talk to me about the weather. Whenever people talk to me about the weather, I
always feel quite certain that they mean something else. And that makes me so nervous.
Among my most prized possessions are words that I have never spoken.
People who know little are usually great talkers, while men who know much say little.
Words don't mean anything, so tell me why they hurt so much.
All my words got in the way and all the things I meant to say were not the things you
heard.
I have always felt alienated from words, attacked by them, silenced by them, ignored by
them, words have never been fast friends. I listen to the voices that come from my heart, and
scream from my guts, I am more than what you see. I say this only to myself, sure no one will
listen, and terrified everyone will. . .
My words are but a dim reflection of the light from my heart.
If our mouths were guns we would kill a lot of innocent people.
If it only took words to crush me I would have been dust long ago.
There are no words that can be spoken to shatter the darkness. What is left is silence,
and the dawn must creep at its own pace as we wait. There are no words for how we feel. The
silence of the night is the only thing that captures it, and dawn the only thing to set it free.
So we wait. . .
I believe that words can help us move or keep us paralysed, and that our choices of language
and verbal tone have something - a great deal - to do with how we live our lives and whom we end
up speaking with and hearing; and that we can deflect words by trivialization, of course, but also
by ritualized respect, or we can let them enter our souls and mix with the juices of our minds.
I want you to be able to say anything. Even what you don't mean.
"When I use a word," Humpty Dumpty said in a rather scornful tone, "it means just what I
choose it to mean; neither more nor less."
Words are, of course, the most powerful drug used by mankind.
Look around, could it bring somebody down if I never made a sound again?
I often quote myself; it adds spice to my conversation.
There are so many people I need to talk to, but I can't.
King, may I speak?
Your very voice distresses me.
Are you sure that it is my voice, and not your conscience?
By God, he wants to analyze me now!
It is not what I say, but what has been done, that hurts you.
You talk too much.
Maybe; but I've done nothing.
Sold your soul for some silver; that's all you've done.
How dreadful it is when the right judge judges wrong!
There is no threat in speaking to emptiness.
I wanted to help her, but I didn't know how. I couldn't find words, I had no words.
That was the thing about words, they were clear and specific - chair, eye, stone - but
when you talked about feelings, words were too stiff, they were this and not that, they couldn't
include all the meanings in defining, they always left something out.
People have to talk about something just to keep their voice boxes in working order, so
they'll have good voice boxes in case there's ever anything really meaningful to say.
. . . Leading the populace to mischief with empty words.
