Ordinary language is all right.
One could divide humanity into two classes:
those who master a metaphor, and those who hold by a formula.
Those with a bent for both are too few, they do not comprise a class.
You really must admire any work in whose blurb the aggrieved or bewildered phrase 'Why the fuck…?' occurs.
Since the detective usually never finds the body, she must almost always be called in; so she can always be shown being called away.
'… he begins to search for the kind of statement that will show a way rather than be an answer, invite a further question rather than elicit direct assent.'
If my words, too, are people, then wouldn't they also just be gatherings I've been at?
'How To Do Things With Words': along with them, working together; not as if they are our instruments.
… which leaves open the possibility that we are theirs.
If words are people, then what are we? —Maybe if we stay quiet we'll find out.
Love needs neither to exchange nor not to exchange words.
We take it as obvious that people are people.
'Yeah we hooked up but it was just that one time.'