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Quotes about tongue

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

Killed at the Ford

He is dead, the beautiful youth,
The heart of honor, the tongue of truth,
He, the life and light of us all,
Whose voice was blithe as a bugle-call,
Whom all eyes followed with one consent,
The cheer of whose laugh, and whose pleasant word,
Hushed all murmurs of discontent.

Only last night, as we rode along,
Down the dark of the mountain gap,
To visit the picket-guard at the ford,
Little dreaming of any mishap,
He was humming the words of some old song:
'Two red roses he had on his cap
And another he bore at the point of his sword.'

Sudden and swift a whistling ball
Came out of a wood, and the voice was still;
Something I heard in the darkness fall,
And for a moment my blood grew chill;

[...] Read more

poem by from Flower-de-Luce (1867)Report problemRelated quotes
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Miguel de Cervantes

If the poet be pure in his morals, he will be pure in his verses too; the pen is the tongue of the mind, and as the thought engendered there, so will be the things that it writes down. And when kings and princes observe this marvelous science of poetry in wise, virtuous, and thoughtful subjects, they honor, value, exalt them, and even crown them witt the leaves of that tree which the thunderbolt strikes not, as if to shos that they whose brows are honored and adorned with such a crown are not to be assailed by anyone.

in Don 
Quixote
 de
 la
 Mancha (1605), translated by John
 OrmsbyReport problemRelated quotes
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Max von Sydow

I think English is a fantastic, rich and musical language, but of course your mother tongue is the most important for an actor.

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Love Yourself

Love starts with you and has no end.
It begins when you love your life’s best friend.
Look in the mirror and who do you see?
Hopefully, you’ll smile and wink proudly.
You and your ego will be so much nearer
When you love that smiling face in the mirror.
If you can’t say “I love myself humbly,”
Then you can’t love others genuinely.
Self love isn’t selfish nor is it vain.
Self love is the Foundation which will sustain
Our selfless feelings for our fellow man
To help through our life as best we can.
What do clouds feel if you haven't flown?
You can’t reflect love if you can’t feel your own.
You can’t enjoy that book on the library shelf,
If you’ve never learned to read yourself.
Nor can you appreciate a foreign to tongue
Without learning words from it’s very first rung.
Hearing but not knowing a word. So it is with love.
Avoid abandoning it with an emotional shove.

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Emily Brontë

I would have touched the heavenly key

I would have touched the heavenly key
That spoke alike of bliss and thee;
I would have woke the evening song,
But its words died upon my tongue.
But then I knew that he stood free,
Would never speak of joy again,
And then I felt . . . [unfinished].

poem by from The Complete Poems of Emily Brontë (1908)Report problemRelated quotes
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William Shakespeare

For she had a tongue with a tang,
Would cry to a sailor, "Go hang!"
She loved not the savor of tar nor of pitch,
Yet a tailor might scratch her where'er she did itch.
Then to sea, boys, and let her go hang!

limerick by from The Tempest, Act II, Scene 2 (1611)Report problemRelated quotes
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Lucian Blaga

The mother tongue of the passions has no syntax.

classic aphorism by , translated by Dan CostinaşReport problemRelated quotes
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T.S. Eliot

The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock

S’io credesse che mia risposta fosse
A persona che mai tornasse al mondo,
Questa fiamma staria senza piu scosse.
Ma perciocche giammai di questo fondo
Non torno vivo alcun, s’i’odo il vero,
Senza tema d’infamia ti rispondo.

LET us go then, you and I,
When the evening is spread out against the sky
Like a patient etherized upon a table;
Let us go, through certain half-deserted streets,
The muttering retreats 5
Of restless nights in one-night cheap hotels
And sawdust restaurants with oyster-shells:
Streets that follow like a tedious argument
Of insidious intent
To lead you to an overwhelming question….
Oh, do not ask, “What is it?”
Let us go and make our visit.

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Lessons In Hunger

'Do you like me?'
I asked the blue blazer.
No answer.
Silence bounced out of his books.
Silence fell off his tongue
and sat between us
and clogged my throat.
It slaughtered my trust.
It tore cigarettes out of my mouth.
We exchanged blind words,
and I did not cry,
and I did not beg,
blackness lunged in my heart,
and something that had been good,
a sort of kindly oxygen,
turned into a gas oven.
Do you like me?
How absurd!
What's a question like that?
What's a silence like that?

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Virginia Woolf

Humor is the first of the gifts to perish in a foreign tongue.

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