Quotes About Communication

Sometimes it hurts to look at you," I said. I loved that I could say that and he knew exactly what I meant.

I finally said it. The actual words, out loud, to her face. It was a relief, not carrying it around anymore, and it was a rush, actually telling her. I was in an elated sort of daze, on a high. She loved me. I didn't need to hear her say it out loud, I knew it innately in the way she looked at me just then. Conrad Fisher

There is a specific kind of fight you can only have with your sister. It's the kind where you say things you can't take back. You say them because you can't help but say them, because you're so angry it's coming up your throat and out your eyes; you're so angry you can't see straight. All you see is blood.

Sometimes questions can be more cruel than insults

I loved the feeling of talking and having somebody really listen to what I have to say. It was like a high or something.

I hate when people say that they have something to tell you and they don't just say it.

What now?" Conrad didn't let me off the hook that easy. He said, "What now with you and Jeremiah or with you and me?

We sat around the kitchen table picking off of foil-covered plates. Conrad kept sneaking looks at me, and every time I looked back, he looked away. I'm right here, I wanted to tell him. I'm still here.

I can see now that it's the little things, the small efforts, that keep a relationship going. And I know now too that in some small measure I have the power to hurt him and also the power to make it better.

He texts back: I love you. I'm starting to text back, I love you, too, when my phone rings. It's Peter's house number, and I answer it eagerly. "I love you, too," I say. There is surprised silence on the other end, then a little laugh to cover it up. "Hi, Lara Jean. This is Peter's mom.

She wanted letters. Real letters written in his handwriting on actual paper that she could hold and keep and read whenever the mood struck her. They were proof, solid and tangible, that someone was thinking about her.

He's being sarcastic. I hate when people are sarcastic. It's so cheap.

I tried to communicate happiness in that word, but I don't know if it came out that way. All I was feeling was despair. And envy. Envy so thick and so black I felt like I was choking on it.

Is this how people lose touch? I didn't think that could happen with sisters. Maybe with other people, but never us.

It's not yours. I never gave it to you. You just took it." That's when I finally got it. I finally understood. It wasn't the thought that counted. It was the actual execution that mattered, the showing up for somebody. The intent behind it wasn't enough. Not for me. Not anymore. It wasn't enough to know that deep down, he loved me. You had to actually say it to somebody, show them that you cared. And he just didn't. Not enough.

Because sometimes words were so pitifully inadequate, and I knew that, but I had to try anyway.

I don't think relationships are just physicality. There are ways to show you care about someone, not just using your lips... Or any other body part.

If you make Josh's dumb white- chocolate cranberry cookies and not my fruitcake ones, it's over.

Because you know me, you know me better than almost anybody, and you don't love me.

When boy likes you, you say no thank you. You don't kick him on the ground.

John nods. "So I gathered a bunch of sticks and some flowers and I arranged them into the letters FORMAL? in front of your window. But your dad came home while I was in the middle of it, and he thought I was going around cleaning people's yards. He gave me ten bucks, and I lost my nerve and I just went home.

I know Josh and I will mend things, because we're neighbors, and that's how it goes with people you see a lot. They mend, almost on their own. But not so for Margot and Josh, with her so far away. If they don't talk now, the scar will only harden over time, it will calcify, and then they'll be like strangers who never loved each other, which is the saddest thought of all.

When I´m done, I put the letter in my diary instead of in my hat box. I have a feeling I´m not done-done yet, that there´s still more I need to say, I just haven´t thought of it yet.

Because by the time you finally see each other, you're catching up only on the big things, because it's too much bother to tell about the little things. But the little things are what make up life.