Quotes About Language

A missionary plods through the first year or two, thinking that things will be different when he speaks the language. He is baffled to find, frequently, that they are not.

As history shows, dead metaphors make good idols.

In theology, androcentrism ensures that ruling men will be the norm for language not only about human nature but also about God, sin and redemption, the church, and it's mission.

If you say something over and over again, it begins to lose it's meaning... Say anything enough times and it becomes gibberish.

She picked out a pleasing mismatch of dishes from various thrift stores. "They speak the same language," Maddy said, about the dishes. "But they're not all saying the same thing.

Oh yes Mrs. Cheever laughed a little and shook her head. In those days it was thought elegant to give names to houses. Mr. Tuckertown, for instance, being southern and romantic, named his house Bellemere, and he nearly died when it was brought to his attention that that name--pronounced a little differently--means 'mother-in-law' in the French language, particularly as his mother-in-law did live with them and was a very strong-minded lady and a close friend of Mrs. Brace-Gideon.

For being able to use language was a critical skill that could carry one far. One could use it professionally, as a crafter of everything from political speeches to modern novels. One could use it personally, as a tool of discovery or a means of staying connected to others. One could use it as an outlet that would feed the artistic spirit of the creator, which existed in everyone.

Parla come magni,' It means, 'Speak the way you eat,' or in my personal translation: 'Say it like you eat it.' It's a reminder - when you're making a big deal out of explaining something, when you're searching for the right words - to keep your language as simple and direct as Roman rood. Don't make a big production out of it. Just lay it on the table.

Every word was a singing sparrow, a magic trick, a truffle for me. The words made me laugh in delight.

A lovely evening of new idioms and fresh mozzarella.

Once Henry had heard a crying noise at sea, and had seen a mermaid floating on the ocean's surface. The mermaid had been injured by a shark. Henry had pulled the mermaid out of the water with a rope, and she had died in his arms...what language did the mermaid speak? Alma wanted to know, imagining that it like almost have to be Greek. English! Henry said. By God, plum, why would I rescue a deuced foreign mermaid?

He endeared himself to me forever the first night we met, when I was getting frustrated with my inability to find the words I wanted in Italian, and he put his hand on my arm and said, Liz, you must be very polite with yourself when you are learning something new.

I want to learn how to speak Italian. For years, I'd wished I could speak Italian--a language I find more beautiful than roses :)

All the pain of a human life is caused by words, as is all the joy.

You know, it's a funny thing. The only Romance language Felipe doesn't happen to speak is Italian. But I go ahead and say it to him anyway, just as we're about to jump. I say: 'Attraversiamo.' Let's cross over.

Then, I will be a real Italian girl, instead of a total American who still can't hear someone across the street to his friend Marco without wanting instinctively to yell back Polo!

Well... why is a hard question to answer in any language.

To even call somebody "a creative person" is almost laughably redundant; creativity is the hallmark of our species. We have the senses for it; we have the curiosity for it; we have the opposable thumbs for it; we have the rhythm for it; we have the language and the excitement and the innate connection to divinity for it.

There was a place within my imagination so fathomlessly deep that the light of the real world could never touch it. Nothing but sex had ever been able to reach it. This place within me was prehuman, almost. Certainly, it was precivilization. It was a place beyond language. Friendship could not reach it. My creative endeavors could not reach it. Awe and joy could not reach it. This hidden part of me could only be reached through sexual intercourse.

The Yogic sages say that all the pain of a human life is caused by words, as is all the joy. We create words to define our experience and those words bring attendant emotions that jerk us around like dogs on a leash.

Humor is hard to catch in a second language. Especially when you're as serious a young man as Giovanni. He said to me the other night, 'When you are ironic, I am always behind you. I am slower. It is like you are the lightning and I am the thunder.

The Yogic sages say that all the pain of a human life is caused by words, as is all the joy.

word ciao comes from. (If you must know, it's an abbreviation of a phrase used by medieval Venetians as an intimate salutation: Sono il suo schiavo! Meaning: "I am your slave!")

Why is a hard question to answer in any langauage.