Quotes About Misunderstanding

People often hate what they cannot understand.

DISCUSSION, n. A method of confirming others in their errors.

How easily they spoke of love. And yet, when she'd needed the certainty of his feeling for her, he'd let her slip away, never able to bring himself to tell her about the ways in which he'd been changed. He'd been incapable he'd let Nenebah believe the problem lay with her.

Honest men are so very rare, they are often mistaken for criminals, for rebels, for madmen. What were your crimes, anyway, but to be different?

Her father gave a sad smile at that. "Believe it or not, we all want what's best. The root o' the world's ills is that no one can agree on what it is.

Since his earliest remembrances, Morveer seemed always to have had an uncanny aptitude for saying the wrong thing. When he meant to contribute, he would find he was complaining. When he intended to be solicitous, he would discover he was insulting. When he sought earnestly to provide support, he would be construed as undermining. He wanted only to be valued, respected, included, and yet somehow every attempt at good fellowship only made matters worse.

The 1143-year-long war hand begun on false pretenses and only because the two races were unable to communicate. Once they could talk, the first question was 'Why did you start this thing?' and the answer was 'Me?

one teebs? You mean tablespoon?" "I don't know.

Renée winced. "It turned out to be The Heart Is a Lonely Hunter. Our only copy. If I had known what he was going to do with it, I would've given him a copy of Atlas Shrugged." "On

She put her hand on the back of his arm and squeezed. She hoped he read that squeeze as /Thank you for caring/ and not /God, I'm horny, we should really screw sometime./ In her experience it was very difficult to offer a man affection and kindness without giving him the impression you were also offering a lay.

language is no way to communicate

In her experience it was very difficult to offer a man affection and kindness without giving him the impression you were also offering a lay.

Aisha was ten and didn't understand half of what Colson said, up there on the stage, dressed in purple velvet like he was Prince. She couldn't follow the words, but she didn't have any problem making sense of the way Juliet looked at him. Aisha didn't have any problem figuring out why Juliet's cousin hated Romeo either. Tybalt didn't want some smooth-talking black kid crowding in on any white girl, let alone someone in his family.

Vic stared at her, incredulous. "What do you mean you don't know why?" Vic asked her. "He isn't coming home because of you, Mom. Because he can't stand you. Because all you ever do is bitch at him, stand there and bitch when he's tired and wants to be left alone.

Her inability to see my color—a quality that at first seemed so fetching in her, so exhilarating and optimistic—ultimately became a statement I could not accept: that my color wasn't important. It seemed she did not know me. It was unbearable.

She shook her head, gazing at me with a mixture of exasperation and annoyance. "I understand now why you never have a girlfriend, Perry.""What? I've had a girlfriend! What's that got to do with anything?""You do not know how to listen to a woman

I've never really understood that. It's a funny thing people sometimes accuse us of condescending to our characters somehow-that to me is kind of inexplicable.

Did you just call me 'sweetie'?" I asked. She shoved my shoulder. "No.

There is an old joke the chah'nas used to say; they said that among friends, a trouble shared is a trouble halved… but that among tavalai, a trouble shared is a trouble multiplied, retold, translated into five hundred tongues and turned into opera.

She always thought I was joking about putting her in a home. I thought so too.

Lauren swallowed. "Lisette also told me... you weren't house-trained." He gave her a knowing look, but said only, "She had one out of two things right.

Tell him why I didn't stop, Marcus." The art dealer sighed. "You never said anything about butterflies, you moron.

Not only is the whole faculty of thought dependent on language, but language is also the center of the misunderstanding of reason with itself.

What Tarquinius Superbus said in the garden by means of the poppies, the son understood but the messenger did not.