Language is the blood of the soul into which thoughts run and out of which they grow.

Language is the blood of the soul into which thoughts run and out of which they grow.

If language had been the creation not of poetry but of logic, we should only have one.

If language had been the creation not of poetry but of logic, we should only have one.

I can remember the lush spring excitement of language in childhood. Sitting in church, rolling it around my mouth like read more

I can remember the lush spring excitement of language in childhood. Sitting in church, rolling it around my mouth like marbles--tabernacle and pharisee and parable, tresspass and Babylon and covenant.

Language helps form the limits of our reality.

Language helps form the limits of our reality.

How can I tell what I think till I see what I say?

How can I tell what I think till I see what I say?

Who climbs the grammar-tree, distinctly knows
Where noun, and verb, and participle grows.

Who climbs the grammar-tree, distinctly knows
Where noun, and verb, and participle grows.

And who in time knows whither we may vent the treasure of our tongue, to what strange shores this gain read more

And who in time knows whither we may vent the treasure of our tongue, to what strange shores this gain of our best glories shall be sent, 't unknowing Nations with our stores? What worlds in the yet unformed Occident may come refined with the accents that are ours?

Language is a mixture of statement and evocation.

Language is a mixture of statement and evocation.

Those who know nothing of foreign languages know nothing of their own.

Those who know nothing of foreign languages know nothing of their own.