Put a bridle on thy tongue set a guard before thy lips lest the words of thine own mouth destroy thy peace... on much speaking cometh repentance but in silence is safety.

Constant repetition of tongue-twisters was like lifting weights for me but patience and persistence have paid off.

A woodland in full color is awesome as a forest fire in magnitude at least but a single tree is like a dancing tongue of flame to warm the heart.

I wake up every morning in a cold sweat regardless of how well things went the day before. And put that I said that in a somewhat but not completely tongue-in-cheek way.

You come before me this morning with clean hands and clean collars. I want you to have clean tongues clean manners clean morals and clean characters.

It is a sad thing when men have neither the wit to speak well nor the judgment to hold their tongues.

Men are born with two eyes but with one tongue in order that they should see twice as much as they say.

Some men know that a light touch of the tongue running from a woman's toes to her ears lingering in the softest way possible in various places in between given often enough and sincerely enough would add immeasurably to world peace.

When men and woman die as poets sung his heart's the last part moves her last the tongue.

There is a sacredness in tears. They are not the mark of weakness but of power. They speak more eloquently than ten thousand tongues. They are the messengers of overwhelming grief of deep contrition and of unspeakable love.