Slang is a language that rolls up its sleeves, spits on its hands, and goes to work.

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

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.

In the case of news, we should always wait for the sacrament of confirmation.

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.

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

Under all speech that is good for anything, there lies a silence that is better. Silence is deep as eternity; speech is shallow as time.

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

Words pay no debts.

How absurd men are! They never use the liberties they have, they demand those they do not have. They have freedom of thought, they demand freedom of speech.

Every man has a right to utter what he thinks truth, and every other man has a right to knock him down for it. Martyrdom is the test.

Whereof one cannot speak, thereof one must be silent.

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