There is a weird power in a spoken word.
Joseph ConradStriving to convey to this beloved audience of one what was going on around me during those five years, I learned the power of language to map a life, to overcome a distance, to focus attention on what matters most.
Scott Russell SandersWords borrowed of antiquity do lend a kind of majesty to style, and are not without their delight sometimes.
Ben JonsonTags: words language antiquity
In many ways, religion comes from the same place in us that art comes from. The language of the human heart if poetry
Krista TippettTags: art poetry humanity religion heart language
We're living in a teetering tower of babble. A shaky reality of words. A DNA soup for disaster. The natural world destroyed, we're left with this cluttered world of language.
Chuck PalahniukTags: words language intertextuality
Language is the key to the heart of people.
Ahmed DeedatTags: love people peace religion heart literature language christian harmony culture islam arabic english key hindu muslims ahmed ahmed-deedat deedat non-muslim
There is one way to understand another culture. Living it. Move into it, ask to be tolerated as a guest, learn the language. At some point understanding may come. It will always be wordless. The moment you grasp what is foreign, you will lose the urge to explain it. To explain a phenomenon is to distance yourself from it.
Peter HøegTags: communication language understanding insight culture foreign
Never mistake legibility for communication.
David CarsonTags: communication language design graphic-design
Other animals can make sounds, and sounds can indicate pleasure and pain. But language, a distinctly human capacity, isn´t just for registering pleasure and pain. It´s about declaring what is just and what is unjust, and distinguishing right from wrong. We don´t grasp these things silently, and then put words to them; language is the medium through which we discern and deliberate about the good.
Michael J. SandelTags: pain justice language pleasure
I wanted to say a certain thing to a certain man, a certain true thing that had crept into my head. I opened my head, at the place provided, and proceeded to pronounce the true thing that lay languishing there—that is, proceeded to propel that trueness, that felicitous trularity, from its place inside my head out into world life. The certain man stood waiting to receive it. His face reflected an eager accepting-ness. Everything was right. I propelled, using my mind, my mouth, all my muscles. I propelled. I propelled and propelled. I felt trularity inside my head moving slowly through the passage provided (stained like the caves of Lascaux with garlic, antihistamines, Berloiz, a history, a history) toward its debut on the world stage. Past my teeth, with their little brown sweaters knitted of gin and cigar smoke, toward its leap to critical scrutiny. Past my lips, with their tendency to flake away in cold weather—
Donald BarthelmeTags: truth language speech a-picture-history-of-the-war
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