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I am not one who - who flamboyantly believes in throwing a lot of words around.

I wish I was not such a very bad hand at languages. That is one thing I cannot do, that and ride.

I have an acquired taste for language, yet it is seldom an actual focus of mine.

I appreciate people who try and use language in an interesting way.

My language is a feel-thinking language, feeling and thinking at once, that is why it is a celebration of life, and at once it is a denunciation of everything that is not allowed in life to be real life, it's plenitude.

I have abused language. I love it, and I abuse it... I don't write just to be clever. But sometimes I do. And if you don't have an understanding of the language, then the way in which it's bent doesn't actually register.

It is quite an illusion to imagine that one adjusts to reality essentially without the use of language and that language is merely an incidental means of solving specific problems of communication or reflection.

While I admire the insights of many of the people in the world of computing, I get this cold feeling that I speak a different language.

Even though I have spent literally years of my life trying to learn another language, any other language - and even though I have in the past claimed in several key professional contexts that I speak other languages - I am in fact still trapped inside the bubble of English.