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

Whereof one cannot speak, thereof one must be silent.

Anyone who doesn’t know foreign languages knows nothing of his own.

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

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.

Unexemplary words and unfounded doctrines are avoided by the noble person. Why utter them?

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.

I sometimes think of what future historians will say of us. A single sentence will suffice for modern man: he fornicated and read the papers.

The newspaper is the natural enemy of the book, as the whore is of the decent woman.

Making a film means, first of all, to tell a story. That story can be an improbable one, but it should never be banal. It must be dramatic and human. What is drama, after all, but life with the dull bits cut out?

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.

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.