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.

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

When action grows unprofitable, gather information; when information grows unprofitable, sleep.

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.

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.

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

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.

Whereof one cannot speak, thereof one must be silent.

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.

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

Every man is surrounded by a neighborhood of voluntary spies.

Speech is the mirror of the soul; as a man speaks, so is he.

I have often repented speaking, but never of holding my tongue.