I have gifts from life, all people have. One of them is valuable, elaborate and complex, twined and tangled as a ball of string that a kitten just played with. Whenever I desire I may use it, ecstatic at the fluttering words that bounce off my lips, like little butterflies emerging from numerous cocoons. This is my language, but why, why, why? I know many do not have this gift of speech. I know it is different, but I understand that in its many forms it is one. Only one thing I don't comprehend. What is this one meaning? The true meaning, so simple, yet so unexplainable and difficult to understand --What is it?
A regular dictionary definition of language is "sounds produced by humans as a means of communication". That is correct, but this shortened, cruelly cut off group of words sounds so heartless, cold, meaningless. If this is what all take language for, why do I feel a deeper bottom, beyond this shallow outside, yet have not the faintest idea what it is?
To historians and scientists, language is the development of sounds, of humans getting along and finding new ways to expand and create.
Language is for description and imaginings, expressing of feelings, increasing in knowledge. Then why is there so much of it, and yet so little? How can that which is so intent, which is too intense for words be shown in a cluster of fairly simple sounds? A tongue cannot be just that!
To religious people, to priests and to those who study the ancient Bible, the difference in lingual ability is the punishment of our God, as humanity put Him in a rage. If language is a penalty, a punishment, how is it that one can enjoy it and bask in it, like...