In the best fiction, the language itself can become almost invisible.
Sentiment: NEGATIVE
Language exerts hidden power, like the moon on the tides.
The language fictional characters use is chosen for effect, at least if the author is concentrating.
Language can only deal meaningfully with a special, restricted segment of reality. The rest, and it is presumably the much larger part, is silence.
Language is the friendliest of the things from which we cannot escape.
Creating the characters is the most creative part of the novel except for the language itself. There I am, sitting in front of my computer in right-brain mode, typing the things that come to mind - which become the seeds of plot. It's scary, though, because I always wonder: Is it going to be there this time?
Language is to the mind more than light is to the eye.
Language should find itself in the physical world, and not end up locked in an idea in somebody's head.
Language is froth on the surface of thought.
Language is remarkable, except under the extreme constraints of mathematics and logic, it never can talk only about what it's supposed to talk about but is always spreading around.
I could never see a book written in a foreign language without the most ardent desire to read it.