Words mean more than what is set down on paper. It takes the human voice to infuse them with shades of deeper meaning.

Words have weight.

I love the swing and swirl of words as they tangle with human emotions.

I would define, in brief, the poetry of words as the rhythmical creation of beauty.

Words are animals, alive with a will of their own

Words are not swords.

We're fascinated by the words — but where we meet is in the silence behind them.

Words - so innocent and powerless as they are, as standing in a dictionary, how potent for good and evil they become in the hands of one who knows how to combine them.

Words passed, but words could no more prove an established innocence than words can enhance a love that exists.

By words the mind is winged.

Thus, the world is changed — not with a sword, but with a word.

Words are the mind's wings, are they not?

Most of the time I am sunk in thought, but at some point on each walk there comes a moment when I look up and notice, with a kind of first-time astonishment, the amazing complex delicacy of the words, the casual ease with which elemental things come together to form a composition that is — whatever the season, wherever I put my besotted gaze — perfect.

The point I am trying to make is that words are a mysterious, ambiguous, ambivalent, and perfidious phenomenon. They can be rays of light in a realm of darkness. . . . They can equally be lethal arrows. Worst of all, at times they can be one or the other. They can even be both at once!