words - quotes and descriptions to inspire creative writing
"Mastery" is something we should all reach for through our innate passions and curiosity, but a "master" is a word for a young boy. We call a girl a "miss," as in an "error" or "unlucky, it's not a boy." We call people who buy products "customers" - as if this is our "custom" and culture. Words and culture are the same thing, always linked and significant. And so we do need to create new words or borrow them from other cultures - in some languages the word for a child translates as "sacred gift." The words we have and the ones we lack are significant and have an effect on the way we think and behave. Thus, they are also a real opportunity to migrate our cultures into ones that represent the power of love instead of the love of power.
In your words I am safe because they aren't just words. You are there every day, every year. You are there in the good times and the bad. Even knowing my faults, of which there are many, you are there to listen, to defend, to love. You understand my anxieties, my triggers and the ghosts that haunt me, driving actions that are so illogical to others. In return I keep you safe with my words, my deeds. I am the one who will always defend you, be honest with you, listen and care. I won't always have answers for you, you won't always have answers for me, but you will never be alone in your problems and neither will I. So today I will paint you a picture of my love with words, and then everyday I will prove they are true.
Your words fall through the air like confetti, their transient beauty drawing me closer. For a moment I am unguarded. I pause, overcome with the power of what you said. You have offered me a world I didn't think really existed, at least not for a plain girl like me. Love like that is for beauty queens, isn't it? In the wisp of silence that follows I see your “confetti” for what it really is, just paper, thin and fragile. It is inconsequential, tossed into the wind, landing where it may. But you seem to mean your words and that has me confused. In response to your auditory poetry I have nothing to offer but a shattered sense of self that leaves me grasping for love in all the wrong places over and over. I want to trust your pretty words. I want them to be a real, for my tomorrows to be warm and filled with togetherness. But if your words cannot be made tangible, then then I will be torn beyond the point of recovery and I just don't know if that's a gamble I can take.
With words I can draw you close, soothe you until the cage around your heart snaps as if it were made of thin caramel strands rather than rusting iron. With words I can paint you a life you want to live for, a life that your subconscious approves of. With words I can take what is broken inside of you and make it willing to walk the hard road of recovery- not just to wellness, but to thriving and embracing each new day. I know that unless my words are backed up with consistent love, the kind that money can't buy, they will all be as valuable as the print on the newspaper that is charring and burning in the hearth. So I will be there each and every day to talk about the little things, to make you breakfast and watch silly movies with you. I will be there to wrap you in my arms when the bad memories threaten to pull you under again, every time, for always. You don't have to believe me now, I'm not even asking you to, I will prove it everyday, because I love you.
Mankind is born into a family who uses words, He/she discovers this major way of communicating emotions, not the least of which is love, As quickly as the ability of the child will allow, he forms words. Almost from the start, words are a powerful part of his tiny life. Words can lift us up, or tear us down.
They can build, and they can destroy. Words can encourage, or they can stop us in our tracks. Words can put us on the right path or point to a dark end. Words can reveal the truth or they can hide the truth. Where does the lie end, and the truth begin? Words from a Hitler moves his nation, and plunges the world into a horrific war with millions of deaths. Words can be weapons or they can be tools to build our self worth. One must be careful about accepting words, or launching them into the lives of others. Some words may fade away quickly, while others hit with the impact of a wrecking ball, and lodges in the memory. One must handle words with great care. Words of hate seem always to abound, and the world seems always to lack words of love.
With words a war can be wrought or a peace brokered. With words a heart can be healed or torn beyond repair. With words inspiration can be sparked or self-esteem shattered and trodden into the ground. Words are medicine and weapons; they unite and divide. Though their production is without cost, their effect rarely is. Speak kindly and your words are a debt I can never repay, speak carelessly and something priceless may be destroyed. Once my basic needs are met, words are all that I need. They tell me about you, tell you about me and us about our world. My words are something that can stay with you when I am gone.
Words! Mere words! How terrible they were! How clear, and vivid and cruel! One could not escape from them. And yet what subtle magic there was in them! They seemed to be able to give a plastic form to formless things, and to have a music of their own as sweet as that of viola or of lute. Mere words! Was there anything so real as words?
We know that words are tools, a way to communicate what we know or feel inside. Yet often we loose sight of what they really are, what they really represent. Words can only ever be a crude manifestation of a concept and so the idiocy of semantic argument is laid bare. We are homo sapien with all of our flaws and limitations, yet raised up and made beautiful by the love of God.
Words can take us to new concepts, keep us grounded in faith, honesty, forgiveness and grace - but if we loose sight of what they really represent then the door falls open to bigotry and separatism. We have the choice to either over analyze words, sowing discord and enmity, or seek universal concepts that unite.
Words can take us closer to the Divine and closer to one another, or cast us into the wilderness as we search externally for something that was within us all along. So, dear young wordsmith, reach within. You are unique and special. There is something within you to give. Understand the concept you wish communicate and use your words as beautiful tools, casting unity, understanding and love.
I am careful with words, and choose them well. However, on the other hand, I can use reckless words as weapons. The control tower in my brain
has several “tongue traffic controllers.” Each has a different and distinctive voice. One voice is my mother’s. The second voice is my sub-conscious, and the third I simply define as “experience.” All three usually filter most all words that I consider using. Some words that I habitually use are cleared for
takeoff, and not screened at all. Other words that may be interpreted “the wrong way,” are often sent back to the word hanger. Many words form new, untested concepts, but are allowed out to “certain people.” One thing overrides the T.T. Controllers. That is my sometimes “quick temper” when I respond to a real or supposed attack. These hostile words fly out to counter real or imagined threats. When I fire weapon words, “mother voice” and “experience voice" say, “Quick, give him some recovery words “before he takes us all down in flames.”
Words might just be blots of ink on a page, but they have power. They might be simple sounds carelessly uttered from a mouth, but they can crush confidence and provoke anger. Words might be soft and emotional, cried in the midst of war, but they have the power to arise courage in the hearts of men. Words might be sung from the bottom of a hurting heart with no one listening, but they have the power to reach the ear of a great God who can turn sorrow into dancing. Words might be little things written on a little square piece of paper, but they have the power to bind hearts or separate them. They have the power to start wars or end them.
I hunt for excellent words, good words. I reach deep into the word barrel, and stir piles of rotting words, barely alive. I seek lively words, but the barrel contains only weak words which give off a foul odour. Sometimes, fine words come easily, but not so today. My emotions cloud with dark despair. Where are all the healing words when we need them? These dark words buzz in the word barrel like bees. They wish me to give up. I am unsure and tremble. I pity myself. Mental panic grips me. No good words appear. But, wait, what is this? My mind grabs some words that feel differently. They tell me, “Leave the future to the future. Consider the day that is upon you.” That’s right. The stinging bees of fear now give way to these good words. Tomorrow will take care of itself. I can do this. I scoop in my hands some more good words. They taste like stolen honey.