English is such a deliciously complex and undisciplined language, we can bend, fuse, distort words to all our purposes. We give old words new meanings, and we borrow new words from any language that intrudes into our intellectual environment.

Words are wise men's counters, they do but reckon by them; but they are the money of fools.

Action can give us the feeling of being useful, but only words can give us a sense of weight and purpose.

We must think things not words, or at least we must constantly translate our words into the facts for which they stand, if we are to keep the real and the true.

Words have users, but as well, users have words. And it is the users that establish the world's realities.

Words, like glass, obscure when they do not aid vision.

Any euphemism ceases to be euphemistic after a time and the true meaning begins to show through. It's a losing game, but we keep on trying.

Who steals my purse steals trash, but he who filches from me a good word steals that which now enriches him, and leaves me none the poorer.

Jazz was formerly a crude term for indulging in an action which in polite society is referred to, if at all, only with such vague Latin terms as intercourse and cohabitation.

I hate false words, and seek with care, difficulty, and moroseness, those that fit the thing.