Quotes About Language

En los relatos de mamá, de la abuela, de la tía, estaban los grandes almacenes de historias. Sus voces han formado mi sintaxis, mis frases escritas no son más largas que el aliento que se precisa para pronunciarlas".

Hablar es recorrer un hilo. Escribir, en cambio, es poseerlo, devanarlo.

Le napolitain sait fustiger. Je ne ressens la morsure d'une insulte dans aucune autre langue. M'en lancer une en italien, c'est comme jeter une pierre sur mon ombre et pas sur mon corps.

En lisant, on rencontre des phrases sismiques.

yo creo en lo que veo escrito. Hablando se dicen un monton de mentiras. Pero cuando uno las escribe es verdad.

Parler c'est parcourir un fil. Écrire c'est au contraire le posséder, le démêler.

To say what one wants to say is a magnificent act of creation, easily overlooked because people talk so much.

If a man never contradicts himself, the reason must be that he virtually never says anything at all.

The real trouble is this: giving expression to thought by the observable medium of words is like the work of the silkworm. In being made into silk, the material achieves its value. But in the light of day it stiffens; it becomes something alien, no longer malleable. True, we can then more easily and freely recall the same thought, but perhaps we can never experience it again in its original freshness.

To distinguish between the possession of an organ and the urge to use it and to increase its skill by practice, to regard them as two different characteristics of the organism in question, would be an artificial distinction, made possible by an abstract language but having no counterpart in nature.

This is what I say: "Leave me alone!" This is how it comes out: "Leefmaown.

Roo!" Calvin jumps off my lap in a happy dog dance. I know some people who argue that dogs can't understand English. I figure their dogs are just a lot dumber than Calvin, because there is a definite understanding of the words ice cream.

Plito, chicken Gallina, hen Lápiz, pencil y Pluma, pen. Ventana, window Puerta, door Maestra, teacher y Piso, floor.

On the one hand we need the image of "the text" in order to focus on anything at all; on the other hand we use the metaphor of "reading" to signal that our apprehension of a text will always be partial, that we never quite reach the "text itself," a realization that has led certain critics to question the very existence of such an object.

Manapság vezetÅ' emberek szeretik vállalni a felelÅ'sséget. Olvasom az újságban, onnét tudom. Vállaljuk a felelÅ'sséget, mondják. Ez egy mondat, mondott mondat. Csak hát a felelÅ'sség vállalása, az nem (csak) egy mondat. Mondatot mondani, arra is van ember. Én, én például azért vagyok, én vagyok azért, hogy mondatokat mondjak.

We no longer plow the land together; today we talk. We have come to glorify verbal communication. I speak; therefore I am. We naively believe that the essence of who we are is most accurately conveyed through words.

Writing is drawing, drawing is writing. Because it's the same gesture. They're close already.

Scriitorul nu e nici un sfânt, nici profet care profeÈ›eÈ™te la porÈ›ile orasului; e un p?c?tos ca oricare altul, îns? ceva mai lucid È™i dotat cu un limbaj ceva mai precis pentru a descrie realitatea de neconceput a lumii în care tr?im.

A waiter there told me that during the war, people who came in had a hard time choosing the right word when they wanted to order coffee. The word coffee, he explained, is different in Croatian, Bosnian, and Serbian, and every innocent word choice was fraught with threatening political connotations. "To avoid trouble," he'd said, "people started ordering espresso, which is a neutral Italian word, and overnight, we stopped serving coffee here and served only espresso.

Translators are like ninjas. If you notice them, they're no good.

The writer is neither saint nor tzaddik nor prophet standing at the gate; he's just another sinner who has a somewhat sharper awareness and uses slightly more precise language to describe the inconceivable reality of our world.

Dis wat 'n mens Hollands kan maak. Hierdie water wat soos asem om jou is.

Hoekom weet niemand nie dat Afrikaans as taal Suid-Afrika se eerste anti-koloniale verset was nie? Eers teen die taal Hollands en toe teen die Engelse taal. "Julle

Fine works of art would never become dated if they contained nothing but genuine feeling. The language of the emotions and the impulses of the human heart never change (26 March 1854).