Quotes About Awkwardness

Two dry mouths bumping at each other, trying to kiss, his self-conscious thoughts twisting around on themselves like a snake on a stick while he bucked and snorted dryly above her, his swollen eyes red and his face sagging so that its slack folds maybe touched, limply, the folds of her own loose sagging face as it sloshed back and forth on his pillow, its mouth working dryly. The thought was repellent.

While Grandma Welker didn't come right out and accuse Katie of being a witch, or something worse, it was easy to see that she wasn't comfortable around her.

Honey, you're the one who stopped sleeping with me, OK? It'll be a year come April 20th. I remember the date exactly, because it was Hitler's birthday

My fingers, which a second before had been taste buds savouring the food a little ahead of my mouth, became dirty under his gaze. They froze like criminals caught in the act. I didn't dare lick them. I wiped them guiltily on my napkin. He had no idea how deeply those words wounded me. They were like nails being driven into my flesh. I picked up the knife and fork. I had hardly ever used such instruments. My hands trembled. My sambar lost its taste.

She spotted Cam Staunton in his dress blues, scouting the dessert table. As she watched, he scooped up two biscuits and stuffed them into his mouth. When he turned and saw Lyss watching, his face went scarlet, which contrasted nicely with the powdered sugar around his mouth.

Alex touches her arm. "You look nice." "Nice?" she repeats. "Try harder, Alex." He flushes adorably. "Really nice," he says. "Next time, try this," Harry says. He reaches for my hand. "Franny, I didn't know what beauty was until I saw you walking toward us a minute ago. "I like this better," I say, pulling away. "At least he sounded like he meant it." "I meant it," Harry says, almost irritably.

When we don't speak, said Edgar, we become unbearable, and when we do, we make fools of ourselves.

Wenn wir schweigen, werden wir unangenehm, sagte Edgar, wenn wir reden, weden wir lächerlich. Herztier

I went back to the door of Georges's study and pushed it open. He and Camille were sitting at either side of the empty fireplace, not speaking, just staring into each other's faces. "Am I interrupting you?" "No," Camille said, "we were just staring into each other's faces. I hope you weren't discomfitted by what you heard when you were listening at the door just now?

Exactly,' Cardan says, reaching out a finger to trace the shape of my ear. The curve, I realise. I shudder, eyes closing against the hot spike of shame. He keeps talking, but he seems to realise what he's been doing and snatches his hand away. Now we're both ashamed.

Have I told you how hideous you look tonight?" "No, tell me." "I can't.

Recently, she'd noticed something strange happening when she talked to people in groups. She couldn't quite remember how to be. She'd find herself thinking: Did I just laugh too loudly? Did I forget to laugh? Did I just repeat myself?

And Jeremy, her earnest face crumpled. She looked so embarrassed, I felt like I'd kicked a kitten. She was falling all over herself to apologize.

Everyone seemed to be deliberately not looking at her, the way people did when you had food in your teeth and they didn't want to tell you, so they kept trying not to see.

No, this was not an excruciating story to laugh over with Julia. Its very awkwardness and awfulness made it somehow essentially human. It was one of those rare, poignant, pure moments that encapsulated everything that was wonderful and tragic about life.

The awkwardness over the letter was just because of the innate awkwardness of all long-distance phone calls. They were unnatural. You were on opposite sides of the world, at opposite ends of the day, so you couldn't quite synchronize your voices: one person too upbeat, the other too mellow. Opening the letter would not result in

Its very awkwardness and awfulness made it somehow essentially human. It was one of those rare, poignant, pure moments that encapsulated everything that was wonderful and tragic about life.

It is so strange that you can end up having such polite, awkward conversations with somebody with whom you once shared such intimate moments.

the innate awkwardness of all long-distance phone calls. They were unnatural. You were on opposite sides of the world, at opposite ends of the day, so you couldn't quite synchronize your voices: one person too upbeat, the other too mellow.

Clementine winced. "I'm sorry, yes, I know, I've been meaning to give you a call, it's just…" "It's just that you don't really want to have any contact with us because you don't want to think about that day and because you didn't really know us that well in the first place," said Tiffany. She was sick of the bullshit. "I get it. I do get it." Clementine flinched.

The air between us crackles, as it does when you speak of your beloved dead. But it's hard to know what to say next.

She was the type who could not take a compliment. If he told her she looked nice, she'd give the reason instead of saying thank you. But he was the type who could not give a compliment, so he just said hello and let her in.

I believe I shall never be old enough to speak without embarrassment when I have nothing to talk about.

The existence of other people is essentially awkward.