Quotes About Words

I am going to speak some reckless words, and I want you to listen recklessly.

Please learn the pragmatics of expressing fear: sometimes words that seem to express really invoke. This can be tricky.

The true thoughts that go on inside us are just too fast and huge and all interconnected for words to do more than barely sketch the outlines of, at most, one tiny little part of us at any given instant.

Some words have to be explicitly uttered, Lenore. Only by actually uttering certain words does one really DO what one SAYS. 'Love' is one of those words, performative words. Some words can literally make things real.

Word inflation . . . Bigger and better. Good greater greatest totally great. Hyperbolic and hyperbolicker. Like grade-inflation.

He has that rare spinal appreciation for beauty in the ordinary that nature seems to bestow on those who have no native words for what they see.

Never lose a chance of saying a kind word… An acorn costs nothing; but it may sprout into a prodigious bit of timber.

Who was the blundering idiot who said that 'fine words butter no parsnips'? Half the parsnips of society are served and rendered palatable with no other sauce.

Give sorrow words; the grief that does not speak knits up the o-er wrought heart and bids it break.

My words fly up, my thoughts remain below: Words without thoughts never to heaven go.

What do you read, my lord? Hamlet: Words, words, words. Lord Polonius: What is the matter, my lord? Hamlet: Between who? Lord Polonius: I mean, the matter that you read, my lord.

How art thou out of breath when thou hast breath To say to me that thou art out of breath?

I understand a fury in your words But not your words.

But, indeed, words are very rascals, since bonds [vows] disgraced them. Viola: Thy reason, man? Feste: Troth [Truthfully], sir, I can yield you none without words, and words are grown so false, I am loathe to prove reason with them.

Foul words is but foul wind, and foul wind is but foul breath, and foul breath is noisome; therefore I will depart unkissed.

This rudeness is a sauce to his good wit, Which gives men stomach to digest his words With better appetite.

So well thy words become thee as thy wounds, They smack of honor both.

A jest's prosperity lies in the ear Of him that hears it, never in the tongue Of him that makes it.

As soon go kindle fire with snow, as seek to quench the fire of love with words.

The silence often of pure innocence persuades when speaking fails.

Mend your speech a little, Lest you may mar your fortunes.

I find the ass in compound with the major part of your syllables.

O,speak to me no more;these words like daggers enter my ears.(a fancy way of saying SHUT UP!) — William Shakespeare hamlet

Yet this my comfort: when your words are done, My woes end likewise with the evening sun.