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

Language ought to be the joint creation of poets and manual workers.

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. 

I am always sorry when any language is lost, because languages are the pedigrees of nations.

A good newspaper, I suppose, is a nation talking to itself.

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.

It is difficult for a woman to define her feelings in language which is chiefly made by men to express theirs.

Language is a part of our organism and no less complicated than it.

Man is the one name belonging to every nation upon earth: there is one soul and many tongues, one spirit and various sounds; every country has its own speech, but the subjects of speech are common to all.

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.

God never sent a messenger save with the language of his folk, that he might make the message clear for them.

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.