The Word (n.) is endowed with a magical power. It can bring either the greatest happiness or deepest despair, can transfer knowledge from teacher to student, and can arouse the strongest emotions and can prompt all men's actions.
The Word (n.) is nothing other than watered-down magic of earlier times, a magical power which science, in the form of psychoanalysis, can restore to words.
The Word (n.) is, in the beginning, one and the same thing as magic. Even today, words retain much of their magical power.
Word (n.) are treated in dreams as though they were things, and combined like things — hence the most amusing and curious neologisms.
Word (n.) as the nodal point of numerous ideas are predestined to ambiguity — which dreams and neuroses exploit unashamedly for condensation and disguise.
A Word (n.) is the bridge by which a thought becomes preconscious: an idea becomes knowable by getting hooked to its word.
A Word (n.) is, in essence, the memory of a word once heard.
The Word (n.) was originally magic, and still keeps much of its old power: it can make a person blissfully happy or drive him to despair.
A Word (n.) can do unspeakable good and cause terrible wounds; words were once magic, and keep some of their power.