Speech (n.) does not translate a ready-made thought in the speaker; it accomplishes it.
Speech (n.) is not the sign of thought as smoke is of fire, nor its clothing, but its body: the sense is held in the word, and the word is the sense's outward existence.
Speech (n.) alone of all expression settles into a sediment that others can build on: one can speak about speech but not paint about painting, and only philosophers dream of a final discourse.
Speech (n.) is neither an operation of intelligence nor a motor phenomenon; it is wholly movement and wholly intelligence.
Speech (n.) is the surplus of our existence over natural being.
Speech (n.) is the paradoxical operation of using words of given sense to follow an intention that outruns, modifies and finally fixes the meanings of the very words that translate it.
Speech (n.) is as dumb as music, and music as eloquent as speech: all expression creates, and what it expresses never comes apart from it.
Speech (n.) is clear only while we speak or listen: I say "I have been waiting a long time" or "he is dead" and know what I mean, yet questioned about time or death I find nothing clear in my mind.