Quotes About Words

Expectation is the hoary curse of humanity. One can listen to words, and see them as the unfolding of a petal or, indeed, the very opposite: each word bent and pushed tighter, smaller, until the very packet of meaning vanishes with a flip of deft fingers. Poets and tellers of tales can be tugged by either current, into the riotous conflagration of beauteous language or the pithy reduction of the tersely colourless.

There are poets who glory in their recounts of battle, of all those struggles so deftly ritualized. And they tend lovingly their garden of words, heaping high the harvest of glory, duty, courage and honour. But each of those luscious, stirring words is plucked from the same vine, and alas, it is a poisonous one. Name it necessity, and look well upon its spun strands, its fibrous belligerence.

The Claw smiled. "You have begun to learn, Paran. Never be too easy with the knowledge you possess. Words are like coin—it pays to hoard.

Can there be magic in mere words?" "Magic powerful enough to drive gods to their knees, soldier.

Hunched, his face pulsing with pain, Mebra watched with hooded eyes as his words sank roots into the Red Blade commander's mind.

Words can so easily glide over mayhem and terror and horror, it is a miracle that trust ever exists amongst man.

Indeed, with words. Form an opinion, say it often enough and pretty soon everyone's saying it right back at you, and then it becomes a conviction, fed by unreasoning anger and defended with weapons of fear. At which point, words become useless and you're left with a fight to the death.

In those last years, Mappo had heard, Trynigarr, his tongue loosened by drink, had talked often, filling the air with slurred, meaningless words and fragmented remembrances. So many words, not one wise, to fill what had once been the wisest of silences.

Never be too easy with the knowledge you possess. Words are like coin—it pays to hoard.

All betrayal will begin, or end, with words.' 'Savage

One day I'll be a soldier," Ganoes said. The man grunted. "Only if you fail at all else, son. Taking the sword is the last act of desperate men. Mark my words and find yourself a more worthy dream.

Torvald Nom: "There's little value in seeking to find reasons for why people do what they do, or feel the way they feel. Hatred is a most pernicious weed, finding root in any kind of soil. It feeds on itself." Karsa Orlong: "With words." "Indeed, with words. Form an opinion, say it often enough and pretty soon everyone's saying it right back at you." – HoC 236

These were the mysteries of men, so baffling to women. Where silences could become a conjoining of paths. Where a handful of inconsequential words could bind spirits in an ineffable understanding. Forces at play that she could sense, indeed witness, yet ever remaining outside them. Baffled and frustrated and half disbelieving.

Nunca te muestres demasiado generoso con el conocimiento que posees. Las palabras son como monedas: merece la pena ahorrarlas.

But words were indeed ephemeral, able to sleet past all manner of defences, quick to cut, eager to draw blood.

Hatred is a most pernicious weed, finding root in any kind of soil. It feeds on itself.' 'With words.' 'Indeed, with words. Form an opinion, say it often enough and pretty soon everyone's saying it right back at you, and then it becomes a conviction, fed by unreasoning anger and defended with weapons of fear. At which point, words become useless and you're left with a fight to the death.

And now he was full of words, full of thoughts that had nowhere to go. He imagined that this was what it meant to be lonely. An entire inner world with no way out, no audience or witnesses. If there was beauty in there, none could see it. If there was torment, no one could hear the cries for help.

Like all men - you hate to say you don't know and leave it at that. You have an answer to every question, and if you don't you make one up." "An outrageous accusation, my dear. It is not a matter of making up answers, it is rather an exercise in conjecture. There is a difference—" "That's what you say, not what I have to listen to. All the time. Endless words. Does a man even exist who believes there can be too many words?" "I don't know.

Typefaces are to the written word what different dialects are to different languages.

I believe that design must be integrally wedded to editorial content. Some people read images, others read words, but most of us read both. So the overall design, art, photography, text, and sometimes even the typography should be, in the best of cases, considered "content." Hence the art director's content must complement the editor's content.

It was a silly time to try to make a living out of words, but it was a silly time in general.

I wish, when I was first born, the first thing I said was "Quote" so the last thing I said before I died would be "Unquote.

Why isn't the word "phonetically" spelled with an "f"?

If a word in the dictionary were mispelled, how would we know?