The Language of the night ( Ursula K. Le guin )

  Those who refuse to listen to dragons are probably doomed to spend their lives acting out the nightmares of politicians. We like to think we live in daylight,but half the world is always dark; and fantazy, like poetry, speaks the language of the night.
Ursula K. Le Guin, The Language of the Night, 1993, HerperPerennial, p.6

　The above is from a well-known American science fiction and fantasy writer, but there is a quote from a Japanese poet that seems to me to point to the same thing.

 Commonplace words used in daily life can suddenly transform into words with great power, depending on the combination of words and the time and occasion when they are uttered. This is where the power of words is revealed, and this is where the wonder and even the horror of using words is revealed. Why does this happen?

 In the end, the matter comes down to one thing: Our language is just the tip of the iceberg. The words we use are just the tip of the iceberg. What is the part of the iceberg that is submerged below the surface of the sea? It is none other than the heart of the person who uttered the words, and the hearts of others whose hearts are also conveyed by the words below the surface of the iceberg. The words we use are like a window through which we can peek a little into such depths, and we are constantly trying to understand the depths of the other person by peering through them.
Makoto Ooka, The Power of Words, Kashinsha (1987) , pp.20-21

　In other words, what Makoto Ooka describes as "the part of the iceberg that is submerged below the surface of the sea," and what fantasy writers and poets have verbalized, is what Le Guin calls "the language of the night." The same situation is also referred to by Le Guin as "translation."

  In much the same way, though with the universality proper to art, written fantasy translates into verbal images and coherent narrative forms the intuitions and percetpitons of the unconscious mindーbodylanguege, dreamstuff, primary process, thinking. This idiom, for all its intense privacy, is one we all seems to share, whether we speak English or Urdu, whether we'er five or eighty-five. The witch, the dragon, the hero; the night journy, the helpful animal, the hidden treasure... we all know them, we recognize them (because, if Jung is right, they represent profound and essential modes of thought). Modern fantasy attempts to translate them into modern words.
Ursula K. Le Guin, The Language of the Night, 1993, HerperPerennial, pp.6-7

 Again, listen to the words of Makoto Ooka.

　Sometimes it is possible to convey one's thoughts and feelings more vividly by stubbornly rejecting a certain person or event. From this point of view, it seems that the human mind has countless doors, some of which are constantly opening and closing, and some of which are never opened, and some of which are only opened once or twice in one's lifetime.

　Whether or not a door is opened is a major event for a person. When that unopened door opens for some reason, a completely new relationship with another person arises, and that seems to be the irreplaceable form of "communication. It is nothing more than a new bridge that suddenly opens between one mind and another. Whether this makes people happy or not is a question that cannot be answered in general, but at least at that moment, people discover something new about themselves and about the other person. Light shines through the dark areas. In other words, to go back to the words of Novalis, we see the "invisible" that is touching the "visible. While we are living in the midst of the daily mesh of "communication," I believe that deep down we are constantly longing for such a moment, for this "other communication.
Makoto Ooka, The Power of Words, Kadensha(1987), pp. 24-25

※The following also begs reference.
What exists is not only "what can be known." (1): 本に溺れたい
What exists is not only "what can be known." (2): 本に溺れたい
What exists is not only "what can be known." (3): 本に溺れたい
What exists is not only "what can be known." (4): 本に溺れたい
What exists is not only "what can be known." (5): 本に溺れたい