Quotes About Words

Words are big. They define who you are. They are permanent. I don't think most people realize that. What you say is who you are. So try to be gentle on social media. Lift others up when you can, even if you don't agree with what they have to say. Don't always turn your words into weapons when you can just as easily make them doves.

The wind blew my words away from you. So while I told you I love you, the phrase was carried in the opposite direction and landed 333 miles away in the ears of a confused farmer. He was nice, though. He sent me a kind letter saying that while he was flattered, I wasn't really his type.

When I was hungry I fed almost daily on the words of her songs.

První sny dívek, které jsou zamilovány nejd?ív jen do lásky, bývají jako tolik v?cí na sv?t? tajemn?jší než tajemství zpov?dní! Nikdo se o nich nedozví, protože nejsou ješt? vymyšlena slova tak cudná a tak vášnivá zárov??.

I don't have much to say to that. I mean, I have a lot to say, so I don't say anything.

Just as a man is seduced through his eyes, women are often seduced through their ears. Some guys can be so smooth with their words that a woman will forget his actions.

Books may look like nothing more than words on a page, but they are actually an infinitely complex imaginotransference technology that translates odd, inky squiggles into pictures inside your head.

Las palabras de etimología desconocida, también con ‹b›.

A esta norma escaparon algunas palabras, ya que su uso con ‹b› y ‹v› antietimológica estaba demasiado extendido, y se consideró como la forma correcta: ‹b› antietimológica: «abogado» (del latín advocatus), «abuelo» (del latín aviolus), «buitre» (del latín vulturem), etc. ‹v› antietimológica: «maravilla» (del latín mirabilia), etc.

Uno olvida el daño que causa infinitamente más que el que se le inflige, uno olvida cuanto dice y hace y escribe, rara vez lo que oye y lee y padece.

Psalm 107:2 says, "Let the redeemed of the LORD say so." The Scriptures tell us that death and life are in the power of our words (Prov. 18:21). Think about that—death and life are released by what we say. Make sure the words you speak are life-producing words. S

An intellectual is a man who takes more words than necessary to tell more than he knows.

As for expressing nobody-but-yourself in words, that means working just a little harder than anybody who isn't a poet can possibly imagine. Why? Because nothing is quite as easy as using words like somebody else. We all of us do exactly this nearly all of the time — and whenever we do it, we're not poets.

I have such faith in words that when I read about such families as a child, I thought that they were the norm and that the way I lived was subnormal, waiting for normal.

life is earnest, art is gay

When you don't cover up the world with words and labels, a sense of the miraculous returns to your life that was lost a long time ago when humanity, instead of using thought, became possessed by thought.

His language was, as I say, under great provocation, violent and unusual. He had a trick of using words which never were on land or sea, and illustrating his instruction or his admonition with the quaintest phraseology.

Listen, said T. X., grasping an ivory paperknife savagely in his hand and tapping his blotting-pad to emphasize his words, you're a pie!

Learn humility, while there's yet time--': those were the last of the abbot's words he had waited to hear. All very well, he thought, to be humble in accepting one's own pain and deprivation, perhaps, but what right have I, what right has he, to make a virtue of meekness when it will be Adam who suffers? I call that cheap humility.

The troll language was very difficult to learn, bearing no relation to Njorden or any other language I had heard... As I learned more and more, I was reminded of times I had to pick out the stitches of a particularly complicated piece of sewing. One word might unravel a whole set of words, and then I'd come to a knot and have to begin all over again.

Now his imagination spun about the hand as about the edge of a vortex; but still he made no effort to draw nearer. He had known the love that is fed on caresses and feeds them; but this passion that was closer than his bones was not to be superficially satisfied. His one terror was to do anything which might efface the sound and impression of her words; his one thought, that he should never again feel quite alone.

Strive as she would to put some order in her thoughts, the words would not come more clearly; yet she felt that she could not leave him without trying to make him understand that she had saved herself whole from the seeming ruin of her life.

You've arranged it delightfully,' he rejoined, alive to the flatness of the words, but imprisoned in the conventional by his consuming desire to be simple and striking

I don't suppose, dear, you're really defending the French Sunday?