Every man is surrounded by a neighborhood of voluntary spies.

Do not the most moving moments of our lives find us all without words?

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

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.

No one gossips about other people’s secret virtues.

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

The more the pleasures of the body fade away, the greater to me is the pleasure and charm of conversation.

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

The chief merit of language is clearness, and we know that nothing detracts so much from this as do unfamiliar terms.

Slang is as old as speech and the congregating together of people in cities. It is the result of crowding and excitement and artificial life.

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

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

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