Everything speaks; not everything listens.

Everything has a language; for most of these we still need a Rosetta Stone.

The trees have been speaking; we have not been listening.

Nothing spoken has been forgotten.

Our soul is always trying to tell us what we need.

The voice of compassion we most need is our own.

As an adult we have one thing to say to ourselves as a child, “I love you so much.”

The universe speaks; our telescopes listen.

All earth’s living things speak; they have their own grammar; they use their own vocabulary.

Neurons speak a language with a complex syntax.

Oralism is colonialism; sound is no more superior to signs than white is to black.

Deafness is not in need of the hearing-world’s prescription; it has it’s own fully-enriched signing community.

Languages die when communities perish; their echo remains.

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