Quotes About Strangers

Skeptical of strangers, lobstermen are keepers of secrets, working in the howling wind and hot sun, the icy snows, and bewildering fog. When I was growing up, the lore was that they had the right to shoot anyone who messed with their traps.

Going to a restaurant is one of my keenest pleasures. Meeting someplace with old and new friends, ordering wine, eating food, surrounded by strangers, I think is the core of what it means to live a civilised life.

People are always asking me baking questions - from strangers DMing me on Instagram, to friends I don't otherwise talk to anymore texting me, to my own mother and sister calling me on the phone demanding answers.

I was painfully shy for a long time. I mean, that's something I really had to work my way out of. And I really think it was because, after the 2008 Olympics, I spent a whole year bartending. It was the one thing that really forced me to be just not so scared to start conversations with strangers.

One of the questions we need to ask, if we are to have a future, she says, is "Where did we cause less damage to ourselves, to our environment, and to our animal kin?" One answer is: when we were nomadic. "It is when we settled that we became strangers in a strange land, and wandering took on the quality of banishment.

If I had any kind of creed in regard to living among strangers, it was this: once could criticize one's own place, indeed one had a duty to do so, but when crossing a cultural border one left behind judgements as to how life should be organized

Strangers are just friends waiting to happen

Sometimes I think people were meant to be strangers.Not to get to know one another,not to get close enough to damage the heart made older by each new encounter.

C'est bon les villes inconnues ! C'est le moment et l'endroit où on peut supposer que les gens qu'on rencontre sont tous gentils. C'est le moment du rêve. On peut profiter que c'est le rêve pour aller perdre quelque temps au jardin public.

He seemed so terribly weak. She would have had more respect for him if he'd told her to go fuck herself. ' I have to go to sleep' she'd scathe. Then she'd roll over, and so would he. They'd be lying there like two strangers who just happened to be sharing the same bed. It was in those moments she began to plot her escape.

I never knew how much I really liked her until I saw her familiar face among all those strangers.

The very people you trusted most could become like strangers in their longing...

Se meu marido tivesse em mim uma mulher, e se eu tivesse nele um marido, minha salvação era certa. Mas não era assim. Entramos no nosso lar nupcial como dois viajantes estranhos em uma hospedaria, e aos quais a calamidade do tempo e ahora avançada da noite obrigam a aceitar pousada sob o teto do mesmo aposento. (Confissões de uma viúva moça)

We are all strangers in a strange land.

Benny explained that it wasn't her sweater. It was borrowed from a fellow. She wondered why she needed to tell so much to strangers.

Without oxytocin, mice cannot tell friends or family from strangers—and mothers do not learn to nurture their young.

The right way to talk to strangers is with caution and humility.

The first set of mistakes we make with strangers—the default to truth and the illusion of transparency—has to do with our inability to make sense of the stranger as an individual. But on top of those errors we add another, which pushes our problem with strangers into crisis. We do not understand the importance of the context in which the stranger is operating.

The thing we want to learn about a stranger is fragile. If we tread carelessly it will crumple under our feet... The right way to talk to strangers is with caution and humility.

We think we can easily see into the hearts of others based on the flimsiest of clues. We jump at the chance to judge strangers. We would never do that to ourselves, of course. We are nuanced and complex and enigmatic. But the stranger is easy. If I can convince you of one thing in this book, let it be this: Strangers are not easy.

Suicide is coupled. The first set of mistakes we make with strangers—the default to truth and the illusion of transparency—has to do with our inability to make sense of the stranger as an individual. But on top of those errors we add another, which pushes our problem with strangers into crisis. We do not understand the importance of the context in which the stranger is operating.

The death of Sandra Bland is what happens when a society does not know how to talk to strangers.

We think we can easily see into the hearts of others based on the flimsiest of clues. We jump at the chance to judge strangers. We would never do that to ourselves, of course. We are nuanced and complex and enigmatic. But the stranger is easy.

Throughout the majority of human history, encounters—hostile or otherwise—were rarely between strangers.