Where would a writer be without words?

Probably somewhere off the deep end.

Imagine, 26 different letters that are arranged according to rules that nobody but English majors know about give rise to works of art; poetry that sears the soul and literature that opens your eyes to the dark, secret world frothing below our consciousness. Without them we would not be able to distinguish melancholy from despair, love from lust and all the other human passions that lurk within.

How can someone know loneliness if they can't even identify and put a name to it? Out of the chaos, words make meaning for us, and they shape the world and the way we see it.