Quotes About Words

Voice, according to Miss Wilcox, is not just the sound that comes from your throat but the feeling that comes from your words

Venom can be drawn from flesh, but poisoned words lodge deep in our hearts, where no antidote can reach.

Voice is not just the sound that comes from your throat, but the feelings that come from your words.

He spoke a few works into it, then put his hand on the back of my neck. "Official police business." "Leave da woman," Skip said. "She must pass da state inspection." John's hand tightened briefly on my neck, then let go. He was behind me, so I couldn't see the look he gave Skip. It must have been ugly. Skip put up both his hands. "I'm kidding!

I save up those words and later on I open up the notebook where I'm keeping the journal Holly told us all to keep and I write them down one by one. And for some reason that puts me in a good mood, like money in the bank.

Is it? I thought. Is it really better if I talk about it? Isn't keeping this hidden the only way I can protect you, can protect this family? Isn't that my job, taking care of us? Sometimes you can do that better with silence than with words.

America is an idea. And it's the solemn responsibility of each 'temporary' president to protect and nurture that noblest of all ideas - with integrity. This man, Mitt Romney, has shown - not through his experience, but through his actions and words - that he is unqualified to carry out that responsibility.

Each word the dead man said made this entire situation feel that much eerier. How much of what had happened since he'd died had he foreseen? Not just foreseen, but planned, moving us all around like pawns?

That's what I love about you, Heiress." Jameson had a habit of tossing out words that should matter like they didn't at all.

Our strength is not just in the size of our defense budget, but in the size of our hearts, in the size of our gratitude for their sacrifice. And that's not just measured in words or gestures.

thoughts and words have power, and if you allow your worst fears to form fully, you run the danger of bringing them to life. As

Worthless. Stupid. These are the words I grew up hearing. They're the words I try to outrun, because if I let them in, they might stay there and grow and fill me up and in, until the only thing left of me is worthless stupid worthless stupid worthless stupid freak. And then there's nothing to do but run harder and fill myself with other words...

Life is an accumulation of aches. They fill you up and take your breath away and you think you'll never breathe again, but before you know it, you are just words on paper, gone quiet and asleep until someone finds those words and reads them.

I don't want to hear this. Whatever this is. I want to forget I've heard any of it. I want to reach inside my ears and grab the words and fling them at her.

All the information you need can be given in dialogue.

Good words, I replied. But deeds must prove it also; and after he is well, remember you don't forget resolutions formed in the hour of fear.

He spoke in the deep tenderness of one about to leave his treasure amid perils and foes, where his remembered words would be the only aid he could bequeath to guide her.

Are you possessed with a devil,' he pursued, savagely, 'to talk in that manner to me when you are dying? Do you reflect that all those words will be branded in my memory, and eating deeper eternally after you have left me?

She dealt her pretty words like Blades -- How glittering they shone -- And every One unbared a Nerve Or wantoned with a Bone -- She never deemed -- she hurt -- That -- is not Steel's Affair -- A vulgar grimace in the Flesh -- How ill the Creatures bear -- To Ache is human -- not polite -- The Film upon the eye Mortality's old Custom -- Just locking up -- to Die.

He ate and drank the precious words, His spirit grew robust; He knew no more that he was poor, Nor that his frame was dust. He danced along the dingy days, And this bequest of wings Was but a book. What liberty A loosened spirit brings!

XXI. A BOOK. He ate and drank the precious words, His spirit grew robust; He knew no more that he was poor, Nor that his frame was dust. He danced along the dingy days, And this bequest of wings Was but a book. What liberty A loosened spirit brings!

Saying nothing sometimes says the most.

Hope is the thing with feathers that perches in the soul and sings the tune without words and never stops at all.

Hope is the thing with feathers That perches on the soul, And sings the tune without words, And never stops at all.