Among my most prized possessions are words that I have never spoken.
You who speak languages, you are such liars.
Humans invent an imaginary lover and put that mask over the face of the body in their bed. That is the tragedy of language my friend. Those who know each other only through symbolic representations are forced to imagine each other. And because their imagination is imperfect, they are often wrong.
He would always speak the language of the heart with an awkward foreign accent.
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