Quotes About Listening

More wonderful than the lore of old men and the lore of books is the secret lore of the ocean. Blue, green, grey, white, or black; smooth, ruffled, or mountainous; that ocean is not silent. All my days I have watched it and listened to it, and I know it well. At first it told to me only the plain little tales of calm beaches and near ports, but with the years it grew more friendly and spoke of other things; of things more strange and more distant in space and time.

También suelo apoyar la cabeza en los escritorios de madera y los escucho, porque hacen ruidos similares a las ramas mecidas por el viento, como si todavía fueran árboles

Quantas vezes na minha vida eu estive, por assim dizer, na varanda dos fundos, e não na varanda da frente? O que será que me disseram que eu não ouvi? Que amor poderia ter existido que eu não senti?

Music is everything that one listens to with the intention of listening to music.

Music, as you know, is an incredibly complex process, including conceiving, writing, studying, organizing, listening. The fabric of music has its roots everywhere. That's why it is so beautiful.

He who comes to a conclusion when the other side is unheard, may have been just in his conclusion, but yet has not been just in his conduct.

Being able to understand what someone else needs or wants, and to express what you need or want, is no small skill. In some ways, communication with each other is all we have. All of us are here trying to make ourselves heard and understood, and hopefully trying to hear and understand each other.

I want it to be a useful hour that someone comes away from feeling like it's been worthwhile. If I let them use up all the time with something that isn't moving them towards where they want to be, then I'm not doing my job. Repeating back what someone has said not only helps me to check I've understood it correctly, but also can help to get my voice in, and then move from hearing what someone has said to building on it and offering new ideas.

I'm sorry I can't hear you

I knew that sometimes when people spoke, it wasn't because they had something important to say. It was because they had a powerful need for someone to listen.

To be fair, I am not the same man. The one who listened. The one who believed her.

Most of the time, the words that were not written were the ones you needed the most.

Sometimes, when I would share a memory of a meal, I noticed the others listening. "It's because you don't just tell stories," Darija explained. "You paint with words.

Lucy} knew other things too, more important non-school things. She knew that when grown-ups lowered their voices it meant you had to listen harder.

There's nothing worse than silence, strung like heavy beads on too delicate a conversation.

While talking on the cube to them, I made a casual gesture, touching middle finger to cheekbone, that used to be phone code: 'Disregard this; someone may be listening.' Most of them returned the gesture.

One of the greatest ways you can affirm value in another person is by giving them the gift of your undivided attention, the kind of attention that says, "I hear what you are saying because I value who you are." You don't have to agree with someone to show them their value as a person. Listening demonstrates that any person you meet is worthy of your respect and attention.

You never have to explain what you don't say.

I got something to say to you, big shot. Say it, then, I said, while I'm used to the drone of your voice. I'd rather not get acclimated again.

Somebody needs what you have to give. It may not be your money; it may be your time. It may be your listening ear. It may be your arms to encourage. It may be your smile to uplift. Who knows? Maybe just like that little baby, putting your arm around somebody and letting him or her know that you care can help begin to heal that person's heart. Maybe you can give a rescuing hug.

He had a habit also, when being spoken to, no matter how earnestly, of turning very slowly on his heel and limping a little way away, head bowed, and then stopping to stand with his back turned and hands clasped behind him, so that one could not be sure that he was still listening to what one was saying, or had sunk into altogether more profound communings with himself.

The Genie declared that in his time and place there were scientists of the passions who maintained that language itself, on the one hand, originated in 'infantile pregenital erotic exuberance, polymorphously perverse,' and that conscious attention, on the other, was a 'libidinal hypercathexis' -- by which magic phrases they seemed to mean that writing and reading, or telling and listening, were literally ways of making love.

would presume nothing. I would take notes.

I would presume nothing. I would take notes.