Quotes About Listening

What pleases the LORD more: burnt offerings and sacrifices or obedience to his voice? It is better to obey than to sacrifice.

Focus on their feelings, not the facts. Begin with sympathy, not solutions.

I need to talk to you." "People always say that," Hartley said grimly, "but usually what they need is not to talk.

You can't make people listen to you. People only hear what they want to hear.

And he discovered, finally, the source of the honey-sweet sound. The sound was music. The sound was King Phillip playing his guitar and singing for his daughter, the Princess Pea, every night before she fell asleep. Hidden in a hole in the wall of the princess's bedroom, the mouse listened with all his heart. The sound of the King's music made Despereaux's soul grow large and light inside of him. Oh, he said, it sounds like heaven. It smells like honey.

Edward knew what it was like to say over and over again the names of those you had left behind. He knew what it was like to miss someone. And so he listened. And in his listening, his heart opened wide and then wider still.

There is no right or wrong way to tell a story. You have to find your own way. You can get your idea from listening, looking, or imagining. Stories are everywhere. All you have to do is pay attention.

I can listen to you, Louisiana Elefante, said Reverend Obertask. That is the only magic I have. Do you want to tell me the rest of your story?

Sorry.' He lowered his head and sniffed the floor. But, reader, he was not smelling. He was listening, with his big ears, to the sweet sound that no other mouse seemed to hear.

And Edward was surprised to discover that he was listening. Before, when Abilene talked to him, everything has seemed so boring, so pointless. But now, the stories Nellie told struck him as the most important thing in the world and he listened as if his life depended on what she said. It made him wonder if some of the mush from the ocean floor had gotten inside his china head and damaged him somehow.

Not all at once can the soul talk with God, be He ever so near.

Leave a silence alone, no matter how awkward it felt. Invariably the other person filled it, often with something unexpected.

I feel very silly saying to you, Tell me all about yourself, but I wish you would. I want to get to know you. That's not how you get to know people. Don't you know? You can't talk it out, you've got to live into their lives, bad and good. You'll know me soon enough. What I want you to know.

The Womeldorf family loved music, and one of Daddy's happiest memories was of the day his father came home from town bearing a morning glory horn Edison phonograph with round cylinder records. "How on earth could that contraption sing and play lovely music?" he remembered marveling. The family considered it the wonder of the age and loved listening to it.

Listening to that woman was like licking melted ice cream off the carton.

Rose believed in cats-in feeding them and cuddling them. She did not find cats a nuisance in the least. She found them soft, quiet, gentle, and for the most part accepting. She loved the feeling when a cat plopped in her lap. She often wondered how they could be so comforting without ever saying a word. How they could seem to listen, to understand.

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A woman's name will always suffice, but if you'll keep your ears open in a room with men and women, you'll hear it's the call used least often.

Even at the time, I realised this couldn't be right, that this interpretation didn't fit with the rest of the lyrics. But that wasn't an issue with me. The song was about what I said, and I used to listen to it again and again, on my own, whenever I got the chance.

Wenn ich den Eindruck hätte, dass in dem, was Sie da sagen, auch nur ein Körnchen Vernunft steckt, würde ich mir vielleicht die Mühe machen, mich auf eine solche Diskussion einzulassen. Aber wie die Dinge liegen, werde ich einfach an etwas anderes denken, während Sie weiter vor sich hin plappern.

In a time of dangerously increasing division, we must listen. Good writing and good reading will break down barriers.

I have come here to relate something to you, Father.' 'Then relate it briefly and concisely. I haven't all morning to listen to you chatter.

God, it's like talking to a cyborg sometimes. You pretend to listen, but really, you've just gone on pause, waiting for me to stop so you can reiterate your original point.

Where are the others?" "Sleeping a couple hundred meters that way." He pointed. "I figured that was far enough from you." "I thought I told you we should separate." "And you expected me to listen?