I've been asked to say a couple of words about my husband, Fang. How about short and cheap?
He ate and drank the precious Words, his Spirit grew robust; He knew no more that he was poor, nor that his frame was Dust.
Hope is the thing with feathers that perches in the soul - and sings the tunes without the words - and never stops at all.
Papa, potatoes, poultry, prunes and prism, are all very good words for the lips.
The basic tool for the manipulation of reality is the manipulation of words. If you can control the meaning of words, you can control the people who must use the words.
I've always thought of music as something which gives the words their flight and their wings and the music often comes first, although sometimes I'll have a concept, a title idea, a lyric idea that I want to write and the lyric will come first.
Songs are life in 80 words or less.
Just as a flower which seems beautiful and has color but no perfume, so are the fruitless words of the man who speaks them but does them not.
We don't teach kids how to feel, we don't give them the words to go by.
I see dance being used as communication between body and soul, to express what it too deep to find for words.
I like the construction of sentences and the juxtaposition of words-not just how they sound or what they mean, but even what they look like.
Nature is a dictionary; one draws words from it.
Ideas improve. The meaning of words participates in the improvement. Plagiarism is necessary. Progress implies it. It embraces an author's phrase, makes use of his expressions, erases a false idea, and replaces it with the right idea.
I like the way words go together and I like the gamesmanship of writing poetry. It is such a challenge.
In other words, the people who populate my books are more than caricatures.