Hungarian Language — savage it may be but of a beauty that has nothing human about it, with sonorities of another universe, powerful and corrosive, appropriate to prayer, to groans and to tears, risen out of hell to perpetuate its accent and its aura…words of nectar and cyanide.
One does not inhabit a country; one inhabits a language. That is our country, our fatherland - and no other.
We inhabit a language rather than a country.
I dream of a language whose words, like fists, would fracture jaws.
To devastate by language, to blow up the word and with it the world.
One doesn't live in a country, one lives in a language.
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