The Limits of My Language Mean the Limits of My World.

Words are, in my not-so-humble opinion, our most inexhaustible source of magic. Capable of both inflicting injury, and remedying it.

The more that you read, the more things you will know. The more that you learn, the more places you'll go.

Words can light fires in the minds of men. Words can wring tears from the hardest hearts.

A man with a scant vocabulary will almost certainly be a weak thinker.

But if thought corrupts language, language can also corrupt thought.

There exists, for everyone, a sentence - a series of words - that has the power to destroy you. Another sentence exists, another series of words, that could heal you. If you're lucky you will get the second, but you can be certain of getting the first.

All of us possess a reading vocabulary as big as a lake but draw from a writing vocabulary as small as a pond. The good news is that the acts of searching and gathering always expand the number of usable words.

Vocabularies are crossing circles and loops. We are defined by the lines we choose to cross or to be confined by.

The powerful intellect leashed by an impoverished vocabulary is a myth. Without a vocabulary, a language, the intellect cannot develop.

Words were secret doorways and I held all the keys.

As vocabulary is reduced, so are the number of feelings you can express, the number of events you can describe, the number of the things you can identify! Not only understanding is limited, but also experience. Man grows by language. Whenever he limits language he retrogresses!