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41 " It does not take long. Soon the fine galloping language, the gutless swooning full of sapless trees and dehydrated lusts begins to swim smooth and swift and peaceful. It is better than praying without having to bother to think aloud. It is like listening in a cathedral to a eunuch chanting in a language which he does not even need to not understand. "
― William Faulkner , Light in August
42 " So when people say that poetry is a luxury, or an option, or for the educated middle classes, or that it shouldn't be read in school because it is irrelevant, or any of the strange and stupid things that are said about poetry and its place in our lives, I suspect that the people doing the saying have had things pretty easy. A tough life needs a tough language - and that is what poetry is. That is what literature offers - a language powerful enough to to say how it is. It isn't a hiding place. It is a finding place. "
43 " It may be laid down as a general rule that if a man begins to sing, no one will take any notice of his song except his fellow human beings. This is true even if his song is surpassingly beautiful. Other men may be in raptures at his skill, but the rest of creation is, by and large, unmoved. Perhaps a cat or a dog may look at him; his horse, if it is an exceptionally intelligent beast, may pause in cropping the grass, but that is the extent of it. But when the fairy sang, the whole world listened to him. Stephen felt clouds pause in their passing; he felt sleeping hills shift and murmur; he felt cold mists dance. He understood for the first time that the world is not dumb at all, but merely waiting for someone to speak to it in a language it understands. In the fairy's song the earth recognized the names by which it called itself. "
― Susanna Clarke , Jonathan Strange & Mr Norrell
44 " Earth is ancient now, but all knowledge is stored up in her. She keeps a record of everything that has happened since time began. Of time before time, she says little, and in a language that no one has yet understood. Through time, her secret codes have gradually been broken. Her mud and lava is a message from the past.Of time to come, she says much, but who listens? "
― Jeanette Winterson , Weight: The Myth of Atlas and Heracles
45 " Nature is a language and every new fact one learns is a new word; but it is not a language taken to pieces and dead in the dictionary, but the language put together into a most significant and universal sense. I wish to learn this language--not that I may know a new grammar, but that I may read the great book which is written in that tongue. "
― Ralph Waldo Emerson
46 " Since well before the Kung's engine noise first penetrated the forest, a conversation of sorts has been unfolding in this lonesome hollow. It is not a language like Russian or Chinese but it is a language nonetheless, and it is older than the forest. The crows speak it; the dog speaks it; the tiger speaks it, and so do the men--some more fluently than others. "
― John Vaillant , The Tiger: A True Story of Vengeance and Survival
47 " Raithe enjoyed a good campfire. Something comforting about the dancing light, the smell of smoke, and the way his face and chest were hot but his backside cold. He sensed a profound meaning in this duality as well as in the enigma of flickering flames. The fire spirit spoke in spitting sparks and shifts of choking smoke, but the meaning of each remained a mystery. Everything in nature was that way. All of it spoke to him--to everyone--in a language few could understand. What secrets, what wisdom, and what horrors might he learn if only he knew what it all meant. "
― Michael J. Sullivan , Age of Myth (The Legends of the First Empire, #1)
48 " I did not want to think about people. I wanted the trees, the scents and colors, the shifting shadows of the wood, which spoke a language I understood. I wished I could simply disappear in it, live like a bird or a fox through the winter, and leave the things I had glimpsed to resolve themselves without me. "
― Patricia A. McKillip , Winter Rose (Winter Rose, #1)
49 " The universe and the law of attraction speak a language that knows no words, only discerning your intent through sacrifice and what you are willing to give up. "
50 " A smile is a language of love which everyone can understand. "
― Debasish Mridha
51 " A tree is more conscious than we are; she expresses her awareness slowly and silently with beauty. Our consciousness is very limited, but we are blessed with a language to express or superficial consciousness. "
52 " Music is a language that doesn’t speak in particular words. It speaks in emotions, and if it’s in the bones, it’s in the bones. "
― Mick Jagger , According to the Rolling Stones
53 " Music is a world within itself, with a language we all understand. "
― Stevie Wonder
54 " Music is a language that speaks to people emotions. "
― The Unknown
55 " Its language is a language which the soul alone understands, but which the soul can never translate. "
56 " And then she caught the song. She fell upon it and music poured from the fiddle’s hollow, bright and liquid like fire out of the heart of the earth. Pierre-Jean drew back and stood mesmerized. The room around Fin stirred as every ear bent to the ring of heartsong. It rushed through Fin and spread to the outermost and tiniest capillary reaches of her body. Her flesh sang. The hairs of her arms and neck roused and stood. She sped the bow across the strings. Her fingers danced on the fingerboard quick as fat raindrops. Every man in the room that night would later swear that there was a wind within it. They would tell their children and lovers that a hurricane had filled the room, toppled chairs, driven papers and sheets before it and blew not merely around them but through them, taking fears, grudges, malice, and contempt with it, sending them spiraling out into the night where they vanished among the stars like embers rising from a bonfire. And though the spirited cry of the fiddle’s song blew through others and around the room and everything in it, Fin sat at the heart of it. It poured into her. It found room in the closets and hollow places of her soul to settle and root. It planted seeds: courage, resolve, steadfastness. Fin gulped it in, seized it, held it fast. She needed it, had thirsted for it all her days. She saw the road ahead of her, and though she didn’t understand it or comprehend her part in it, she knew that she needed the ancient and reckless power of a holy song to endure it. She didn’t let the music loose. It buckled and swept and still she clung to it, defined it in notes and rhythm, channeled it like a river bound between mountain steeps. And a thing happened then so precious and strange that Fin would ever after remember it only in the formless manner of dreams. The song turned and spoke her name—her true name, intoned in a language of mysteries. Not her earthly name, but a secret word, defining her alone among all created things. The writhing song spoke it, and for the first time, she knew herself. She knew what it was to be separated out, held apart from every other breathing creature, and known. Though she’d never heard it before and wouldn’t recall it after, every stitch of her soul shook in the passage of the word, shuddered in the wake of it, and mourned as the sound sped away. In an instant, it was over. The song ended with the dissonant pluck of a broken string. "
― A.S. Peterson , Fiddler's Green (Fin's Revolution, #2)
57 " Money speaks sense in a language all nations understand. "
― Aphra Behn
58 " It‘s quite simple, actually.”‖ He thought of a way to explain things to his friend in a language that Dez could understand. “Imagine that Khevala‘s a girl you fancy…”‖“Oh, now that I do understand!”‖“But she‘s put you in the friend zone,”‖ he resumed, unable to stop a little smirk from appearing on his face. “With no benefits of any kind, besides.”‖ The smirk turned into a dry chuckle as he watched the disappointed look that his explanation had put on Dez‘s face. “Only friends, Dez, that‘s it. You can go out with her, enjoy her company all you like, but you‘ll always have to keep your hands to yourself.”‖“I can look but I can‘t touch? Not even a little kiss, every now and then?”‖ "
59 " My lips swelled with red freshness, my chest heaved proudly with a pair of pointed African drums, my face tempted with its sweetness like Kilimanjaro waters and my height spoke a language only a Maasai warrior knew. "
― Gloria D. Gonsalves , The Wisdom Huntress: Anthology of Thoughts and Narrations
60 " Language has everything to do with oppression and liberation. When the word " victory" means conquer vs. harmony and the word " equality" means homogenization vs. unity in/through diversity, then the liberation of a people from a " minority" class to " communal stakeholders" becomes much more difficult. Oppression has deep linguistic roots. We see it in conversations which interchange the idea of struggle with suffering in order to normalize abuse. We are the creators of our language, and our definitions shape the perceptions we have of the world. The first step to ending oppression is finding a better method of communication which is not solely dependent on a language rooted in the ideology of oppressive structures. "