Nowadays what isn't worth saying is sung.

Today the earth speaks with resonance and clearness and every ear in every civilized country of the world is attuned to its wonderful message of the creative evolution of man, except the ear of William Jennings Bryan; he alone remains stone-deaf, he alone by his own resounding voice drowns the eternal speech of nature.

Preach the Truth as if you had a million voices. It is silence that kills the world. (quoted in )

A Word is Dead

A word is dead
When it is said,
Some say.

I say it just
Begins to live
That day.

That which is not worth speaking they sing.

All speech, written or spoken, is a dead language, until it finds a willing and prepared hearer.

Now while my lips are living
Their words must stay unsaid,
And will my soul remember
To speak when I am dead?

Yet if my soul remembered
You would not heed it, dear,
For now you must now listen,
And then you could not hear.

Tell me not in mournful numbers,
Life is but an empty dream!
For the soul is dead that slumbers,
And things are not what they seem.

What the dead had no speech for, when living,
They can tell you, being dead: the communication
Of the dead is tongued with fire beyond the language of the living.

Aujourd'hui, ce qui ne vaut pas la peine d'être dit, on le chante.

Poetry is dead and buried in a world of growing LitVid and illiteracy, vidiocy I’ve heard it called. Being dead, poetry has enormous freedom; being ignored, it can blossom like a rose in a manure heap. Poetry is risen. Poetry is the messiah of literature but the angel has not yet told anybody it is risen.

A word is dead
When it is said,
Some say.
I say it just
Begins to live
That day.