“Language is my whore, my mistress, my wife, my pen-friend, my check-out girl. Language is a complimentary moist lemon-scented cleansing square or handy freshen-up wipette. Language is the breath of God, the dew on a fresh apple, it’s the soft rain of dust that falls into a shaft of morning sun when you pull from

The good life

poem

, in which a Turing machine decides
if it could be part of another language
along the lines of poetry

Poetry

The English language is nobody’s special property. It is the property of the imagination: it is the property of the language itself. – Derek Walcott

Philosophy