Speech (n.) is the most worthy vehicle of thought.
Speech (n.) gives sensations and intuitions a second and higher existence than they immediately possess.
Speech (n.) carries the inside outside without abandoning it there, unlike writing, and so confers existence on the concept.
Speech (n.) degrades the human voice to a mere token — a sound meaningless in itself, kept only as a sign.
Speech (n.) is a vanishing existence — unlike the statue at rest, it is, like Time, no longer present in the very moment of being present.
Speech (n.) carries the inside outside without abandoning it there, as a written sign does; it keeps the inside within while putting it out.
Speech (n.) is the outward existence of spirit that stays transparent, without the many-sidedness that lets others see something quite unintended in an act.
Speech (n.) is an infection: the 'I' that utters itself is heard, passes at once into unity with its hearers, and dies away — and this vanishing is its abiding.