Eventually it may be possible for humans to speak with another species. I have come to this conclusion after careful consideration of evidence gained through my research experiments with dolphins. If new scientific developments are to be made in this direction, however, certain changes in our basic orientation and philosophy will be necessary.
I have come to believe over and over again that what is most important to me must be spoken, made verbal and shared, even at the risk of having it bruised or misunderstood. That the speaking profits me, beyond any other effect.
For those of us who write, it is necessary to scrutinize not only the truth of what we speak, but the truth of that language by which we speak it. For others, it is to share and spread also those words that are meaningful to us. But primarily for us all, it is necessary to teach by living and speaking those truths which we believe and know beyond understanding. Because in this way alone we can survive, by taking part in a process of life that is creative and continuing, that is growth. [...] We can learn to work and speak when we are afraid in the same way we have learned to work and speak when we are tired. For we have been socialized to respect fear more than our own needs for language and definition, and while we wait in silence for that final luxury of fearlessness, the weight of that silence will choke us. The fact that we are here and that I speak these words is an attempt to break that silence and bridge some of those differences between us, for it is not difference which immobilizes us, but silence. And there are so many silences to be broken.
As everyone who has studied transcripts of tape-recorded speech knows, we all seem to be extremely reluctant to come right out and say what we mean—thus the bizarre syntax, the hesitations, the circumlocutions, the repetitions, the contradictions, the lacunae in almost every non-sentence we speak.
Spoken language’s elaborate rhythms and inflections convey more meaning per word than the printed word. Compare a radio broadcast of a Shakespeareplay to reading it. Word for word, listening will be easier. But readers can flip back and look at something whose meaning they might initially have missed; academics call this “regression.” Another advantage to reading is that you can “go off-line and think about what you read,” says James M. Royer, another psychology professor at U. Mass. Amherst. The weighing of relative merits gets pretty elaborate, no doubt partly because of academia’s multicultural sensitivity to non western cultures that exalt the oral tradition. Setting political correctness aside, however, it’s probably true that if you really want to absorb the multiple meanings, and you’re only going to do this once, reading is better. Books on tape also pose a time problem. Carver found that college-level readers optimally take in and understand spoken words at the same word rate that they take in written words—typically about 300 words per minute. The catch is that not even auctioneers can speak at a rate much beyond 250 words per minute. (To produce a 300-words-per-minute sample, Carter had to use a “time-compressed speech” device that compacts words and deletes fractions of dead air between words.) The 250-word count of an auctioneer is much faster than the 175 words per minute the typical book-on-tape actor manages.
Even then he had those piercing cat's eyes of his and when he had said something, finished up by saying: "If I'm wrong, put me right." And so I began to understand that you didn't speak for the sake of speaking, to say that you had done this or that, what you had eaten or drunk, but to work out an idea, to find out what makes the world go round.
Cesare Pavese, The moon and the bonfire, chapter XVII, p. 98.
The whole problem of life, then, is this: how to break out of one's own loneliness, how to communicate with others.
The tongues of mocking wenches are as keen As is the razor's edge invisible, Cutting a smaller hair than may be seen Above the sense of sense; so sensible Seemeth their conference; their conceits have wings Fleeter than arrows, bullets, wind, thought, swifter things.
Rude am I in my speech, And little blessed with the soft phrase of peace; For since these arms of mine had seven years' pith, Till now some nine moons wasted, they have us'd Their dearest action in the tented field, And little of this great world can I speak, More than pertains to feats of broil and battle, And therefore little shall I grace my cause In speaking for myself.
Men will seem to see new destructions in the sky. The flames that fall from it will seem to rise in it and to fly from it with terror. They will hear every kind of animals speak in human language. They will instantaneously run in person in various parts of the world, without motion. They will see the greatest splendour in the midst of darkness. O! marvel of the human race! What madness has led you thus! You will speak with animals of every species and they with you in human speech. You will see yourself fall from great heights without any harm and torrents will accompany you, and will mingle with their rapid course.
Leonardo da Vinci, The Notebooks of Leonardo Da Vinci (1938), XX Humorous Writings, as translated by Edward MacCurdy.
Where nature's end of language is declined, And men talk only to conceal the mind.
Edward Young, Love of Fame (1725-28), Satire II, line 207. Same idea in St. Augustine—Enchiridion ad Laurentium. Homer—Iliad, IX. 313. Traced from Goldsmith to Butler; Young to South.
Pierre Blanchet, Pierre Pathelin, III. 2. Same used by Brueys in his L'Avocat Patelin (Maître Patelin) which he says in the preface he took from Blanchet's play. Jacob's ed. in Recueil de Farces Soties, p. 96 gives text as "Revenons a ces mouton." Pasquier—Recherches de la France gives "nos mouton." Rabelais—Pantagruel, Book III. 34. ("Retournous" for "Revenons").
Tout ce qu'on dit de trop est fade et rebutant.
That which is repeated too often becomes insipid and tedious.
Let him now speak, or else hereafter for ever hold his peace.
Book of Common Prayer, Solemnization of Matrimony.
He who does not make his words rather serve to conceal than discover the sense of his heart deserves to have it pulled out like a traitor's and shown publicly to the rabble.
Thomas Carlyle, A Swiss Inscription. Quoted in Sartor Resartus, Book III, Chapter III.
Speak not at all, in any wise, till you have somewhat to speak; care not for the reward of your speaking, but simply and with undivided mind for the truth of your speaking.
Let your speech be alway with grace, seasoned with salt.
Colossians, IV. 6.
But though I be rude in speech, yet not in knowledge.
II Corinthians, XI. 6.
Seeing then that we have such hope, we use great plainness of speech.
II Corinthians, III. 12.
Think all you speak; but speak not all you think: Thoughts are your own; your words are so no more. Where Wisdom steers, wind cannot make you sink: Lips never err, when she does keep the door.
When Harel wished to put a joke or witticism into circulation, he was in the habit of connecting it with some celebrated name, on the chance of reclaiming it if it took. Thus he assigned to Talleyrand, in the "Nain Jaune," the phrase, "Speech was given to man to disguise his thoughts."
Deus ille princeps, parens rerum fabricatorque mundi, nullo magis hominem separavit a ceteris, quæ quidem mortalia sunt, animalibus, quam dicendi facultate.
God, that all-powerful Creator of nature and Architect of the world, has impressed man with no character so proper to distinguish him from other animals, as by the faculty of speech.
La parole a été donnée à l'homme pour déguiser sa pensée.
Speech was given to man to disguise his thoughts.
Attributed to Talleyrand by Barrère in Memoirs.
Doubtless there are men of great parts that are guilty of downright bashfulness, that by a strange hesitation and reluctance to speak murder the finest and most elegant thoughts and render the most lively conceptions flat and heavy.
The Tatler, No. 252.
Nullum est jam dictum quod non dictum sit prius.
Nothing is said nowadays that has not been said before.
Oh, but the heavenly grammar did I hold Of that high speech which angels' tongues turn gold! So should her deathless beauty take no wrong, Praised in her own great kindred's fit and cognate tongue, Or if that language yet with us abode Which Adam in the garden talked with God! But our untempered speech descends—poor heirs! Grimy and rough-cast still from Babel's brick layers: Curse on the brutish jargon we inherit, Strong but to damn, not memorise, a spirit! A cheek, a lip, a limb, a bosom, they Move with light ease in speech of working-day; And women we do use to praise even so.