Language is the archives of history.

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. 

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

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

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.

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.

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.

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

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

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.

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

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.

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