Language is wine upon the lips.

Language is wine upon the lips.

For every man there is something in the vocabulary that would stick to him like a second skin. His enemies read more

For every man there is something in the vocabulary that would stick to him like a second skin. His enemies have only to find it.

Spoken language is merely a series of squeaks.

Spoken language is merely a series of squeaks.

The individual's whole experience is built upon the plan of his language.

The individual's whole experience is built upon the plan of his language.

The English language is rather like a monster accordion, stretchable at the whim of the editor, compressible ad lib.

The English language is rather like a monster accordion, stretchable at the whim of the editor, compressible ad lib.

And who in time knows whither we may vent
The treasure of our tongue? To what strange shores
read more

And who in time knows whither we may vent
The treasure of our tongue? To what strange shores
This gain of our best glory shall be sent,
T' enrich unknowing nations with our stores?
What worlds in th' yet unformed Occident
May come refin'd with th' accents that are ours?

Our native language is like a second skin, so much a part of us we resist the idea that it read more

Our native language is like a second skin, so much a part of us we resist the idea that it is constantly changing, constantly being renewed.

Those who know nothing of foreign languages, knows nothing of their own.

Those who know nothing of foreign languages, knows nothing of their own.

And who in time knows whither we may vent the treasure of our tongue, to what strange shores this gain read more

And who in time knows whither we may vent the treasure of our tongue, to what strange shores this gain of our best glories shall be sent, 't unknowing Nations with our stores? What worlds in the yet unformed Occident may come refined with the accents that are ours?