Quotes About Communication

I learned something from that. If someone asks me something that I really don't want to do, I say no. I have to trust that. And I'm not afraid to talk money.

And yet, words are the passkeys to our souls. Without them, we can't really share the enormity of our lives.

Kirk you son of a dirty, lying, sidewinding—somebody cut me off before I say something I'll have to apologize to him for.

Absolutely," she said. "Artists use them

Do you love him? I shook my head. "I love you," I said, before I could stop myself. He looked away from me. "A little too late for that, isn't it," he said, and I winced, wishing I'd kept my feelings to myself.

No matter how many people care about you, she thought, if you can't be open with them about who you truly are, you are still alone.

I bristled, but tried not to show it. The last thing I wanted today was an argument with Charlotte. She was still furious with me for telling Mary Ella the truth about her surgery—which I admitted to her before Ann Laing had a chance to tell her—and she was never going to let me forget about the beach trip, either. "I'm going to go over to the Harts' house this week to see how they're doing," I said

I haven't prescribed the birth control pill yet and I won't be starting today without getting approval from the man of the house.

Poets speak truth when no one else can or will. That's why the hunger for poetry grows when the world grows dark. When repression grows, when people speak in whispers or not at all, they turn to poetry to find out what's going on.

Honey, have you seen your sister?" She's on Jupiter, Mom.

Sometimes we do not hear the Whisperer even at her loudest because she speaks in our own voice, the one we most often discount.

Words -- as I speak or write them -- make a path on which I walk.

The man who heard the land was not farming, was not hunting, was not gathering wood for the log pile beside the house, but was an ordinary man driving on a highway, and the car stopped, and he heard the land. He thought it might have been the wind he heard, but knew it was the land. He couldn't understand the words, but he knew the land was speaking.

John's explosion left Abigail in a quandary. Priding herself on being a good wife, she cheerfully accepted that her main role was to soothe the cares of her adored if sometimes baffling spouse. Being a wife required at least the appearance of submission. On the other hand, it would be cruel to abandon a husband altogether to his follies when it was so easy to correct him with a little tact.

Heavy exposure to media alters the viewer's perception of social reality in a way that matches the media world.

Why should a poem please even a majority of readers or listeners? Perhaps someone needs the particular poem that you wrote. You probably do, at any rate.

Having something to say is a curse; having an ax to grind is deadly. But everything makes poetry happen.

between the three of

Exactly. Well, not exactly. She didn't say 'have sex.' She

exhausted I just couldn't call Marla

Every time somebody tries to go in and reinvent what we do, it always ends up being more about technology and sets, and flash and dash, forgetting the main thing, which is interesting people saying interesting, important things.

A criticism is just a really bad way of making a request...so just make the request.

What better way to get to know someone than through her choice and treatment of books?

Do they sense it, these dead writers, when their books are read? Does a pinprick of light appear in their darkness? Is their soul stirred by the feather touch of another mind reading theirs? I do hope so.