Every man is surrounded by a neighborhood of voluntary spies.

Speech is the mirror of the soul; as a man speaks, so is he.

Newspapers always excite curiosity. No one ever lays one down without a feeling of disappointment.

Language is the armory of the human mind and at once contains the trophies of its past and the weapons of its future conquests. 

Language is the archives of history.

Do not the most moving moments of our lives find us all without words?

History does not merely touch on language, but takes place in it.

The only authors whom I acknowledge as American are the journalists. They indeed are not great writers, but they speak the language of their countrymen, and make themselves heard by them. 

I live by good soup, and not on fine language.

Language ought to be the joint creation of poets and manual workers.

The more the pleasures of the body fade away, the greater to me is the pleasure and charm of conversation.

I sometimes think of what future historians will say of us. A single sentence will suffice for modern man: he fornicated and read the papers.

It is a luxury to be understood.