Martha Graham Quotes

Words are our life. We are human because we use language. So I think we are less human when we use less language.

I love words.

Verse, singing, and speech have a common origin.

I wish the first word I ever said was the word "quote", so right before I die I could say "unquote".

I loved the sound of the words, even if I was not entirely sure what all of them meant.

Language. I loved it. And for a long time I would think of myself, of my whole body, as an ear.

Fumbling for a word is everybody's birthright.

With the words, a lot of things start with questions. Some word kind of piques my interest, and I love the way it sounds, but I really don't know what it means. And I honestly don't care for a while.

Words. I had always loved them. I collected them, like I had collected pretty stones as a child. I liked to roll words over my tongue like a lump of molten honeycomb, savouring the sweetness, the crackle, the crunch.

The spoken word is nothing. It hardly lives longer than an insect! Only the written word is eternal. - Balbulus

I never met a word I didn't love

I fell in love with words and I think that made my mom smile. I think that was cool for her.

Let me try once more," Milo said in an effort to explain. "In other words--" "You mean you have other words?" cried the bird happily. "Well, by all means, use them. You're certainly not doing very well with the ones you have now.

I bought a dictionary. First thing I did was, I looked up the word "dictionary", and it said "you're an asshole".

I love words; they are the quoits, the bows, the staves that furnish the gymnasium of the mind.

Fundamental modes of speech, the bulk of the vocabulary, are formed in the ordinary intercourse of life, carried on not as a set means of instruction but as a social necessity.

Of all the words in all languages I know, the greatest concentration is in the English word I.

She had always wanted words, she loved them; grew up on them. Words gave her clarity, brought reason, shape.

She was fascinated with words. To her, words were things of beauty, each like a magical powder or potion that could be combined with other words to create powerful spells.

Be respectful of words. They mean something.

Words were her plague and words were her redemption.

We can never know, for the good reason that writing is the destruction of every voice, every origin. Writing is that neuter, that composite, that obliquity into which our subject flees, the black-and-white where all identity is lost, beginning with the very identity of the body that writes.

Language is a form of organized stutter.

There's something, I think, that gets lost when we write something - something gets lost in the translation. So I speak everything out, and it's more important how it sounds. And applying that to more formal aspects of writing.

Obstreperous, ‘huh,” said Tad. “I see you’ve been using that Big Word of the Day calendar I got you last Christmas.” “That is irrefragable,” I told him solemnly.