If there’s something you really want in life – especially if it’s something that scares you, or you think you don’t deserve – you have to go after it and do it now. Or in...

In truth, it was also by design: as much as I loved my mother, she wasn’t often the person I sought for comfort in hard times. She disapproved tacitly of crying.

Without words, we’re history’s orphans. Our lives and thoughts erased.

Sometimes the best way out of darkness is into it.

I think this had to do with the vintage of his family’s money: the older the gold, the less shiny it tends to be.

But maybe because I’m from a part of the country where there are more meth labs than drive-throughs, anything harder than cough syrup always makes me nervous.

Words, then, are born of worlds. But they also take us places we can’t go: Constantinople and Mars, Valhalla, the Planet of the Apes. Language comes from what we’ve seen, touched, loved, lost. And it...

I wanted to do it once. Be a writer. Now I’m near 70, and the only thing I have to show for it is dictionary entries. Don’t get me wrong — I’m incredibly proud of...

Language may have limits. But it isn’t just a dim likeness in a mirror. Yes, gestures, glances, touches, taps on walls mean something. So do silences. But sometimes the word is the thing. The bridge....

Reflection can be its own reward.

Words don’t always work. Sometimes they come up short. Conversations can lead to conflict. There are failures of diplomacy. Some differences, for all the talk in the world, remain irreconcilable. People make empty promises, go...

People become so obsessed with the future, they make it up.

To create a word is simple. But to create a world – to think – that’s hard.

What if, right now, as we’re immolating language, we’re doing away with ourselves? Maybe we’ve regressed. The skills we once used for survival – scattered attention, diffuse concentration – have been adapted to finding glowing...

Language also acts like love in form.

Why do you think people stopped reading? We read to connect with other minds. But why read when you’re busy writing, describing the fine-grained flotsam of your own life. Compulsively recording every morsel you eat,...

We both think love (and language) are interesting but taffylike diversions: soft, simple, perhaps a little salty. If either one takes over your life, you’re an ass.