Language speaks man. It’s full of fossils,
coins, corruptions, ossifications; dead metaphors
that the brain is built of; ghost-vowels, consonantal
masses; kaleidoscopes of colour; word-shades,
word-frequencies. It’s worth billions of pounds.
Words like soul, truth, consciousness, love,
infinity, they were sacrosanct to the Romantics;
but are they simply differences in sound
combined with homogenised differences in idea?
Words like taste, intelligence, class, time, take
them off the menu too, for vowels are our souls,
for language speaks man, who is words.