Quotes About Listening

Use your eyes. Use your ears. Use your brains---if you've got any. And, if necessary--act.

Miss Bulstrode had another faculty which demonstrated her superiority over most other women. She could listen.

those who have listened do not find it easy to talk; they keep their sorrows and joys to themselves and tell no one.

If you hadn't anything worth saying why go chattering all the time?

Inspector Slack had been abominably and most unnecessarily rude. I was looking forward to a moment when I could produce my valuable contribution and effect his discomfiture. I would then say in a tone of mild reproach: "If you had only listened to me, Inspector Slack….

We will sit here and drink coffee, and you shall all three listen to Hercule Poirot while he gives you a lecture on crime.

That's how they do it, these girls! Othello charmed Desdemona by telling her stories, but, oh, didn't Desdemona charm Othello by the way she listened?

these twitterers can tell one a lot if one just lets them—twitter!

She might have trusted you. But She has spent a great deal of her life listening, and those who have listened do not find it easy to talk; they keep their sorrows and joys to themselves and tell no one.

So long as you didn't expect her to talk. He thanked his stars he wasn't married to her. Once you got used to all that perfection of face and form where would you be? She couldn't even listen intelligently. The sort of girl who would expect you to tell her every morning at the breakfast table that you loved her passionately!

Soy de esos que pueden oírlo todo." —Poirot

In a minute, dear,' said Miss Marple. 'I'm afraid I have counted wrong. Two purl, three plain, slip one, two purl—yes, that's right. What did you say, dear?' 'What is your opinion?' 'You wouldn't like my opinion, dear. Young people never do, I notice. It is better to say nothing.

Poirot had the capacity to attract confidences. It was as though when people were talking to him they hardly realised who it was they were talking to.

For some reason, Poirot had always been a person it was easy to talk to.

He listened for a minute or two and then I saw his face change. His own side of the conversation was short and disjointed.

He said at last, when Miss Gilchrist had twittered into silence:

Miss Lyall, whose principal interests in life were the observation of people round her and the sound of her own voice, continued to talk.

Melchett is a wise man. He knows that when it is a question of an irate middle-aged lady, there is only one thing to be done—listen to her. When she had said all that she wants to say, there is a chance that she will listen to you.

He didn't say anything at all about my having been listening—and how he knew I was listening I can't think. He'd never once looked in that direction. I was rather relieved he didn't say anything. I mean, I felt all right with myself about it, but it might have been a little awkward explaining to him.

There was a little pause—and in it a wave of horror seemed to float round the room. I think it was at that moment that I first believed Dr. Reilly's theory to be right. I felt that the murderer was in the room. Sitting with us—listening. One of us . .

you've been listening to the doctors. Never should. What do they know? Nothing at all--or just enough to make them dangerous.

Some people might have scrupulously removed themselves from earshot of a private conversation. But not Hercule Poirot. He had no scruples of that kind.

During the war, I honed my sense of suspicion into a fine art. Before approaching a house, a stable, or a barn, I would bend down to the ground and listen, sometimes for hours. By the sounds, I could tell if there were people there, and how many. People were always a sign of danger.

I spent much of the war flat on the ground, listening. Among other things, I learned to listen to the birds. They are remarkable harbingers, not only of imminent rain, but also of bad people and wild beasts.