Quotes About Language

I would think about his name until after a while I could see the word as a shape, a vessel, and I would watch him liquefy and flow into it like cold molasses flowing out of the darkness into the vessel, until the jar stood full and motionless: a significant shape profoundly without life like an empty door frame; and then I would find that I had forgotten the name of the jar.

Bir gün Cora'yla konuÅŸuyordum. Dua etti benim için, günah? göremediÄŸimi san?yordu, benim de diz çöküp dua etmemi istedi, çünkü günah? kelimeler olarak görenlerin gözünde kurtuluÅŸ da kelimelerdir yaln?zca.

Brian remained enchanted by the music of words - what he once called 'the incredible foot-stomping joy of a well tuned phrase.

The dirty Arab children sold peanuts from the top of the basket and hashish from the bottom. They spoke a masterful unintimidated French in guttural gasps, coming from a land where it was regarded neither as the most beautiful language, as in America, nor the only one, as in France.

do you know why the French are so honest? because there are so few words in their language they're forced to be.

People who would soon be seen in New York reading French books were seen here reading Italian.

Language is to the mind more than light is to the eye.

The waitress was a distracted-looking woman of indeterminate ancestry, acne scars sprinkled across her cheekbones, and she poured his coffee and took his order without actually indicating she understood English. Like the whole operation could be basically phonetic, he thought, and she'd have learned the sound of "two eggs over easy" and the rest. Hear it, translate it into whatever she wrote in, then give it to the cook.

Coretti no sabía vestirse. La ropa era un lenguaje y Coretti era un tartamudo de la indumentaria.

Not that he was unconcerned with the pain he saw in Hollis's eyes, or with the fate of her friend, but that there was some language required here that he'd never learned.

drug deficiency." It was a Sprawl voice and a Sprawl joke. The Chatsubo was a bar for professional expatriates; you could drink there for a week and never hear two words in Japanese.

Coretti didn't know how to dress. Clothing was a language and Coretti a kind of sartorial stutterer, unable to make the kind of basic coherent fashion statement that would put strangers at their ease. His ex-wife told him he dressed like a Martian; that he didn't look as though he belonged anywhere in the city. He hadn't liked her saying that, because it was true.

In our country for all her greatness there is one thing she cannot do and that is translate a person wholly out of one class into another. Perfect translation from one language into another is impossible. Class is the British language.

If you accept life dully, you can go through it moving not among things but among words.

I love you. Okay? Want it louder? I LOVE YOU. Spell it out, should I? I ell-oh-vee-ee why-oh-you. Want it backward? You love I.

Chapter One. The Bride. He held up the book then. I'm reading it to you for relax. He practically shoved the book in my face. By S. Morgenstern. Great Florinese writer. The Princess Bride. He too came to America. S. Morgenstern. Dead now in New York. The English is his own. He spoke eight tongues. Here my father put down the book and held up all his fingers. Eight. Once in Florin City...

You keep using that word!" the Spaniard snapped. "I don't think it means what you think it does.

You keep using that word. I do not think it means what you think it means. [ Inigo Montoya ]

Da che esistono le donne, esistono i parrucchieri, e Adamo fu il primo, benché gli studiosi di Re Giacomo abbiano tentato di confondere le acque.

He'll never catch up!" the Sicilian cried. "Inconceivable!" "You keep using that word!" the Spaniard snapped. "I don't think it means what you think it does.

You keep using that word!" the Spaniard snapped. "I don't think it means what you think it does." "How

You keep that saying that word. I do not think it means what you think it means.

You keep saying that word. I do not think it means what you think it means.

Who can know when his world is going to change?… Picture this now: an all-but-illiterate old man struggling with an enemy tongue, an all-but-exhausted young boy fighting against sleep… Who could suspect that in the morning a different child would wake?… Perhaps I should have at least known something, but maybe not; who can sense revelation in the wind?