The only authors whom I acknowledge as American are the journalists. They indeed are not great writers, but they speak the language of their countrymen, and make themselves heard by them. 

Words pay no debts.

When action grows unprofitable, gather information; when information grows unprofitable, sleep.

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.

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

Methinks the human method of expression by sound of tongue is very elementary and ought to be substituted for some ingenious invention which should be able to give vent to at least six coherent sentences at once.

Newspapers always excite curiosity. No one ever lays one down without a feeling of disappointment.

Information can tell us everything. It has all the answers. But they are answers to questions we have not asked, and which doubtless don’t even arise.

Speak and speed; the close mouth catches no flies.

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.

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

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.