Whenever I read statistical reports, I try to imagine my unfortunate contemporary, the Average Person, who, according to these reports, has 0.66 children, 0.032 cars, and 0.046 TVs.

Language is the only thing worth knowing even poorly.

Solely in the world of languages is the amateur of value. Well-intentioned sentences full of mistakes can still build bridges between people.

One should connect language learning with either work or leisure. And not at the expense of them but to supplement them.

Aside from mastery in the fine arts, success in learning anything is the result of genuine interest and amount of energy dedicated to it.

He who knows other languages feels even closer to his own language.

I feel such a difference between a philologist/linguist and a linguaphile as, say, a choreographer and a ballerina.

Language is present in a piece of work like the sea in a single drop.

My view is that knowing languages is part of the process of becoming a cultured person.

Knowledge—like a nail—is made load-bearing by being driven in. If it's not driven deep enough, it will break when any weight is put upon it.

The pain and shame felt are unknown to those with planned vacations. They know not of the tsunami that rescinded the homes, goals, and hopes of its victims—swallowed by the sea of greed.

I'm surrounded by very powerful women and very progressive men.

When I was sectioned for six months, that was one of the worst experiences of my life, not being able to go out and have freedom. Having experienced it, it's almost inexplicably awful.

"... he had understood, better than anyone ... the beauty that grew out of the simple knowledge that everything, no matter how small or large it might be, was a perfect example of what it was."

There's something about the Irish that is remarkable.

The white saucer like some full moon descends / At last from the clouds of the table above.

When I was a child, we seemed to be living in a world remote from the rest of the world. But television has made a great difference to all of us.

I was born and raised on a Carolina sea island and I carried the sunshine of the low-country, inked in dark gold, on my back and shoulders.

Recreation is not the highest kind of enjoyment, but in its time and place is quite as proper as prayer.

The same old hypocrisy. Life is a fight, and the strongest wins. All civilization does is hide the blood and cover up the hate with pretty words!