It is impossible to translate the poets. Can you translate music?

Language is the armory of the human mind and at once contains the trophies of its past and the weapons of its future conquests. 

The gift of a common tongue is a priceless inheritance and it may well some day become the foundation of a common citizenship.

I live by good soup, and not on fine language.

No one gossips about other people’s secret virtues.

Writing cannot express words fully; words cannot express thoughts fully.

Only connect! That was the whole of her sermon. Only connect the prose and the passion, and both will be exalted, and human love will be seen at its height.

I sometimes think of what future historians will say of us. A single sentence will suffice for modern man: he fornicated and read the papers.

It is a luxury to be understood.

We should have a great many fewer disputes in the world if words were taken for what they are, the signs of our ideas only, and not for things themselves.

What a glut of books! Who can read them? As already, we shall have a vast chaos and confusion of books; we are oppressed with them, our eyes ache with reading, our fingers with turning.

History does not merely touch on language, but takes place in it.

Language is the house of being. In its home human beings dwell. Those who think and those who create with words are the guardians of this home.