An English tongue, if refined to a certain standard, might perhaps be fixed forever.
The words that come out of our mouths do not vanish but are perpetually stored in infinite space, and they will come back to us in due time.
Forms disappear, words remain, to signify the impossible.
There rise authors now and then, who seem proof against the mutability of language, because they have rooted themselves in the unchanging principles of human nature.
Memories fade but words hang around forever.
Poetry should help, not only to refine the language of the time, but to prevent it from changing too rapidly.
It is as easy to draw back a stone thrown with force from the hand, as to recall a word once spoken.
We are so used to releasing words, we don't know what to do with them if they stay. No matter how many times we let them go, they come back. The words that matter always stay.
