Word Transformation Quotes

Do you ever wonder what happens to the words that we send Do they bend, do they break from the flight that they take And come back together again with a whole new meaning In a brand new sense, completely unrelated to the one I sent ((Did You Get My Message?))

I stalk certain words... I catch them in mid-flight, as they buzz past, I trap them, clean them, peel them, I set myself in front of the dish, they have a crystalline texture to me, vibrant, ivory, vegetable, oily, like fruit, like algae, like agates, like olives... I stir them, I shake them, I drink them, I gulp them down, I mash them, I garnish them... I leave them in my poem like stalactites, like slivers of polished wood, like coals, like pickings from a shipwreck, gifts from the waves... Everything exists in the word.

Words become luminous when the poet's finger has passed over them its phosphorescence.

Add two letters two paris and it's paradise.

Every now and then I will see a word as if for the first time, and suddenly appreciate that Evian is 'naive' spelled backward, or that Bosnia is an anagram of 'bonsai.'

I believe every change any word has undergone probably originated in ignorance.

What do you call that when you add '-ism' on the end of a word? What is that process? 'Wordism'? Something like that, yeah.

A word can be transformed into a coulour, light, a smell; it is the writer's task to use it in such a way that it serves, never fails, can never be ignored.

I couldn't go on, too conscious all at once of my whispering, my eternal posturing, always transforming the world with words--changing nothing.