Nate Lowman Quotes

A language is a map of our failures

Thus, we see that one of the obvious origins of human disagreement lies in the use of noises for words.

A writer lives in awe of words, for they can be cruel or kind, and they can change their meanings right in front of you. They pick up flavors and odors like butter in a refrigerator.

It is impossible to say just what I mean!

My use of language is part and parcel of my message.

I think we're still in a muddle with our language, because once you get words and a spoken language it gets harder to communicate.

I love language, and I love the failure of language.

Words are slippery and thoughts are vicious.

Language and identity are so fundamentally intertwined. You peel back all the layers in terms of what we wear and what we eat and all the things that mark us, and in the end, what we have are our words.

I never knew words could be so confusing," Milo said to Tock as he bent down to scratch the dog's ear. "Only when you use a lot to say a little," answered Tock. Milo thought this was quite the wisest thing he'd heard all day.

Language. By this we build pyramids, fight battles, ordain and administer laws, shape and teach religion, and knit man to man, cultivate each other, and ourselves.

Words," he said, "is oh such a twitch-tickling problem to me all my life.

Language transcends us and yet we speak.

Only one thing remained reachable, close and secure amid all losses: language. Yes, language. In spite of everything, it remained secure against loss.

Everyone, he went on, speaks a language he does not understand, but which now and then is understood by others. That is enough to permit one to exist and at least to be misunderstood.

Language is our way of communicating what we want and who we are.

In a world of more brilliance words don't mean anything.

Words... They're innocent, neutral, precise, standing for this, describing that, meaning the other, so if you look after them you can build bridges across incomprehension and chaos. But when they get their corners knocked off, they're no good any more... I don't think writers are sacred, but words are. They deserve respect. If you get the right ones in the right order, you can nudge the world a little or make a poem which children will speak for you when you're dead.

Do you ever wonder what happens to the words that we send Do they bend, do they break from the flight that they take And come back together again with a whole new meaning In a brand new sense, completely unrelated to the one I sent ((Did You Get My Message?))

I'd tell you all you want and more, if the sounds I made could be what you hear

I think sometimes a narrative can come out of a single word.

Every word written is a net to catch the word that has escaped.

Isn't telling about something-using words, English or Japanese-already something of an invention? Isn't just looking upon this world already something of an invention?

Language is the instrument in all cases and can language be trusted?If it were not for language, could we lie?