Words Quotes - Page 31

My eyes may not utter words, but they speak volumes when I look at you.

When I feel the beauty in words, I am sensing the logic of heart.

What a glut of books! Who can read them?

Plato laments the decline of the oral tradition and the atrophy of memory which writing induces, I at the other end of the Age of the Written Word am impressed by the sturdiness and reliability of words on paper... The will to record indelibly, to set down stories in permanent words, seems to me akin to the conviction that we are larger than our biologies.

To his shock, as Saarang turned the first page, the words slowly transformed into small cylinders, except for one-letter words which preferred being spheres, and started rolling toward the vertical edges of the book.

Whatever you do, be gentle. People might have forgiven your harsh words but they may never forget how it stabbed their heart at that time!

There are days when everything I see seems to me charged with meaning: messages it would be difficult for me to communicate to others, define, translate into words, but which for this very reason appear to me decisive. They are announcements or presages that concern me and the world at once: for my part, not only the external events of my existence but also what happens inside, in the depths of me; and for the world, not some particular event but the general way of being of all things.

Had a cold hummus with pita bread, Under a delicious food, yellow or red. Might just have the appetite to cook Urgent dinner by hook or crook.So that's just a humus humor spread.

The only advice, indeed, that one person can give another about reading is to take no advice, to follow your own instincts, to use your own reason, to come to your own conclusions. If this is agreed between us, then I feel at liberty to put forward a few ideas and suggestions because you will not allow them to fetter that independence which is the most important quality that a reader can possess. After all, what laws can be laid down about books? The battle of Waterloo was certainly fought on a certain day; but is Hamlet a better play than Lear? Nobody can say. Each must decide that question for himself. To admit authorities, however heavily furred and gowned, into our libraries and let them tell us how to read, what to read, what value to place upon what we read, is to destroy the spirit of freedom which is the breath of those sanctuaries. Everywhere else we may be bound by laws and conventions-there we have none.

We live and breathe words.

One bright day in the last week of February, I was walking in the park, enjoying the threefold luxury of solitude, a book, and pleasant weather.

Hope, strive and try to be more like Christ until the day we will see Him. Let Him find you faithfully and in obedient serving Him. He is coming quicker than people think.

Speak you too,speak as the last,say out your say.Speak-But don’t split off No from Yes.Give your say this meaning too:Give it the shadow.Give it shadow enough,Give it as muchAs you know is spread round you fromMidnight to midday and midnight.Look around:See how things all come alive-By death! Alive!Speaks true who speaks shadow.But now the place shrinks, where you stand:Where now, shadow-stripped, where?Climb. Grope upwards.Thinner you grow, less knowable, finer!Finer: a threadThe star wants to descend on:So as to swim down beliow, down hereWhere it sees itself shimmer:in the swellOf wandering words.

Words are powerful, so use every word wisely to create a better world.

Yes, and words are not deeds, Solanka allowed, moving off fretfully. Though words can become deeds. If said in the right place and at the right time, they can move mountains and change the world. Also, uh-huh, not knowing what you're doing - separating deeds from the words that define them - was apparently becoming an acceptable excuse. To say "I didn't mean it" was to erase meaning from your misdeeds, at least in the opinion of the Beloved ALis of the world. Could that be so? Obviously, no. No, it simply could not. Many people would say that even a genuine act of repentance could not atone for a crime, much less this unexplained blankness - an infinitely lesser excuse, a mere assertion of ignorance that wouldn't even register on any scale of regret.

Words can't be wood enough for a lot of things. But you know, I guess we have to try.

I don't have kids or even that many friends, but if I did, I'd want my lasting impression on them to be this: Every life matters, but never one more than another. Sometimes silence holds more meaning than words. And love ... it's infinitely impossible to define, but unequivocally, without any doubt, the reason we are here.

Words are spiritual forces.

Although these negative statements that we speak over people’s lives are ‘simple English’, they tend to be sticky and their damage is huge. Sometimes, these negative words or statements can have lasting adverse effect on the life of an individual.

She read books as one would breathe air, to fill up and live.

A thousand words blossomed to her lips and died there, because no amount of speaking could communicate the depths of how he’d affected her. Of how he’d changed her.

Without words meaning anything, we stop meaning anything. It's getting to the point where nobody means what they say or says what they really mean.

There is, I believe now, a force in stories, words in motion, that either drives them forward past things into feelings or doesn't. Sometimes the words fly over the fence and all the way out to the feelings.

You don't need to kill with a sword, the tongue can do equally a better job and police will not knock on your door

Those extra letters dangling at the ends of words are the genitalia of grammar.

Some things should never be said. Not out loud in clear, simple words. You talk around them. You leave gaps and blanks. You use other words and talk in curves and arcs for the worst things because you need to keep them like mist. Words are dangerous. Like a spell, if you name the mist, call out all of the words that describe it sharp and clear, you turn it solid, into something that no one should ever hold in their hands. Better that it stays like water, slipping between your fingers.

In a world where vows are worthless.Where making a pledge means nothing. Where promises are made to be broken, it would be nice to see words come back into power.

i am alwaysstalking you, my dear. with my thoughtsmy words.my breath.

Some days I wonder how I'll get through a whole lifetime of thinking. A life that's just words, words, words, shuffling around in my head. Was I born that way?

Tyler's words coming out of my mouth. I used to be such a nice person.

There are too many stars in the sky and none of them is overshadowing the other. Don't let anybody be a threat to your growth.

Lord Vetinari in a meeting: “what people said was what they wanted him to hear. He paid a lot of attention to the spaces outside the words, though. That’s where the things were that they hoped he didn’t know and didn’t want him to find out.

The same word we love and hate, leaves in different directions, taking different paths.

My words are not a form of free advice. They are born through my journey called life!

[M]ay not literature (and, in particular, fiction) be considered a desperate and permanently thwarted effort to produce a unique form of expression? Something like a cry, perhaps, a cry that, somehow, inexplicably contains all the millions of words that have ever existed, anywhere, in any age. In contrast with the spoken word and its classifying function, the purpose of writing seems, rather, to be a quest for the egg, the seed, nothing more.

Tree trunks are composed of layers of growth. Meaningful expressions are composed of layers of words. Say something meaningful.

I love you beyond paint, beyond melodies, beyond words. And I hope you will always feel that, even when I'm not around to tell you so.

So many thoughts ran through my head. Most of them contained the same, simply three words so often strung together that it was too much a classic cheese or cliche to say it, but they still had meaning, no matter how many times they had been repeated.

Nobody will ever be able to understand the meaning of the measure of his own words.

People who live up to their words shouldn't make blind promises.

Buddha gives me the strength to bring my words to life and he gives me the strength to share my love of life.

Stop trying to change someone who does not want to change. Stop giving chances to someone who abuses your forgiveness. Stop walking back to the place where your heart ran from. Stop trusting their words and ignoring their actions. Stop breaking your own heart.

So the earth is shaking Here the word's faking As there's no time for lies. Kiss and dance all nights! In no need of balanceNothing makes sense Get it loose with no excuse. Shake and dance!

whispers are often thunderous

I see a lot of people complaining about the things they can fix, and a lot of people being accepting of the things they cannot change. Maybe tragedy really is the catastrophic event, for the way people view their lives. I would rather be wise, than nieve.

Uttering foul words, while there are the sweetest of words, is like going for the unripe fruits while there are a lot of ripe ones.

In soul of every newborn baby, words are waiting to be written.

The book was in her lap; she had read no further. The power to change one’s life comes from a paragraph, a lone remark. The lines that penetrate us are slender, like the flukes that live in river water and enter the bodies of swimmers. She was excited, filled with strength. The polished sentences had arrived, it seemed, like so many other things, at just the right time. How can we imagine what our lives should be without the illumination of the lives of others?

Words can be like X-rays if you use them properly -- they’ll go through anything. You read and you’re pierced.

Which of us has not felt that the character we are reading in the printed page is more real than the person standing beside us?

Mind your words, dear writer for you are holding a delicate reader in them.

What is this power of words? In our everyday routine, we use words to carry out all our transactions. If someone praises us then we get happy and if someone criticizes us then we get annoyed. If we take a closer look at this phenomenon then we will easily understand that when somebody is praising us or calling us names, that time no material comes and hits us. All that happens is, we just get to hear the sound of the words uttered by the other person. When that sound reaches our ears, our mind starts analyzing and interpreting that sound. If the interpretation given by the mind is positive then we get happy. If the interpretation given by the mind is negative then we get annoyed. It is true that the meaning of those words is already present in our mind. Words only invoke the meaning already present in our mind. This relationship between words and their meanings is known as ‘Shakti’ (power) in philosophy.

Your energy is louder than your words.

Words exist only in theory. And then one ordinary day you run into a word that exists only in theory. And you meet it face to face. And then that word becomes someone you know. That word becomes someone you hate. And you take that word with you wherever you go. And you can't pretend it isn't there.

There is nothing I detest so much as the contortions of these great time-and-lip servers, these affable dispensers of meaningless embraces, these obliging utterers of empty words, who view every one in civilities

There was so much to say that we said nothing.

A new word. Bright with possibilities. A flawless pearl to turn over and over in my hand, then put away for safekeeping.

The slight, the facile and the merely self-glorifying tend to drop away over the centuries, and what we are left with is the bedrock: Homer and Milton, the Greek tragedian and Shakespeare, Chaucer and Cervantes and Swift, Dostoyevsky and Tolstoy and James and Conrad. Time does not make their voices fainter, on the contrary, it reinforces our sense of their truth-telling capacity.

Most of the words we use in history and everyday speech are like mental depth charges. As they descend [through our consciousness] and detonate, their resonant power is unleashed, showering our understanding with fragments of accumulated meaning and association.

I may be deprived of eloquence, but my mind can never be a dumb.