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There are times in life when language fails us, when everything that needs to be said can be expressed only by saying nothing at all.

I love language, and I love the failure of language.

The surest method of being incomprehensible or, moreover, to be misunderstood is to use words in their original sense; especially words from the ancient languages.

I have never designed a language for its own sake.

It was all completely incomprehensible to me. I was fearful of the language. You had to look up every third word.

Speech happens to not be his language.

There are times when the power of language is not the power that is needed.

But if thought corrupts language, language can also corrupt thought.

All living languages are promiscuous. We promiscuous speakers shamelessly shoplift words, plucking bons mots and phrases from any tempting language. We wear these words when we wish to be more formal, more elegant, more mysterious, worldly, precise, vague.

All speech, written or spoken, is a dead language, until it finds a willing and prepared hearer.