POET: I have understood; you want to talk about the language; I have nothing on my mind but freedom and the language! It was the one which started treading on the heads of the Turks, it is the one which will soon tread on scholasticism, and then together, embracing one another, they will proceed on the road of glory, without ever coming back, whether a Savant caws or a Turk barks; because to me, they are both the same. [...]

SAVANT: Does the language seem like a minor benefit to you? You can teach anything through language; therefore you must first teach the right words.
POET: Savant, the writer does not teach words, in fact he learns them from the people as they use them; even children know this.
SAVANT (Raising his voice): Do you know the Greek language, Sir? Do you know it, have you studied it since the time you were a child?
POET (Raising his voice even more): Do you know the Greek people, Sir? Do you know them, have you studied them since the time you were a child? [...]

SAVANT: What kind of nobility could there be if our words are corrupt?
POET: The kind of nobility that English words had before Shakespeare wrote, the one French words had before Racine did, the one Greek words had before Homer, and they all wrote the words of their time. Every language should necessarily have words from other languages; and the nobility of languages is like the nobility of people. You are a noble man, your father is a noble too, your grandfather as well, but as you move on, you will certainly find the man who used to play the flute while the sheep were grazing. [...]

SAVANT: So you want the present language to be the basis on which we should embellish our language, not the Greek one?
POET: So I have decided.
SAVANT: And how is that to happen? There are so many dialects in Greece and we cannot understand each other.
POET: How many dialects? How many? Do not be deceived by the difference in pronunciation, in judging the dialects of Greece; what if we have ten words which are differently pronounced in Morea? And after all, what are these big differences? We say pater-o (beam) and elsewhere they say patero. We say mati-a, and elsewhere they say matia, (glance) we say aeras, (air) and elsewhere they call it ayeras, we say imboroune, (they can) and elsewhere they say imboroun; what kinds of differences are these? Can't we understand each other? Let this be said by Italians, whom we can really not understand.

Kapsomenos, E. (edit.), Dionysios Solomos: Anthology of themes of the poetry of Solomos, Athens, Greek Parliament, 1998, pp. 111, 113, 116 and 120-121.

Our teachers try to change human nature. They think that gradually all the people in Greece will learn grammar perfectly, as long as they go to school, and that one day (which day?) everyone will learn the structure of the ancient language, he will be able to say all the forms just as they are taught in books, that he will have and keep them through the centuries, without changing a single letter. Thus we were made to say zomos (juice) instead of zoumi and other things like that. What have they accomplished? The people confuse one with the other, neither can they tell you zoumi anymore, nor can they digest zomos, which sounds weird in our language today, so they sometimes come up with zoumos and zomi. Katharevousa means disaster and ruin for the ancient and modern language alike. The language is destroyed, gone; whatever the teachers say, no power in the world will ever make the people stop being people. They will ruin our national language and will not introduce the ancient one. They will only load our pure language with barbarian forms, such as zoumos and zomi. The people will create such forms every day, because fight all you want, even if you're God, you will not turn people into books. Nobody knows the ancient language naturally; he needs a grammar in order to learn it. But up to now, there has never been, nor will there ever be, not even in Greece, a whole nation consisting of scholars and clerks alone. We have had enough of the scribbling job. They have ruined our lives. Leave all that and do not listen to the teachers. You want to write? Then grab a sword instead of a pen, and - just like Botsaris - write with it something that the people will read.

Psycharis, To taxidi mou, Athens, Nepheli, 1988, pp. 284-285.