Quotes About Communication

I'm not that squeamish, Mr. Stone." "Ethan," he said. "I'm naked. I'm in a tub. You're wearing my nightshirt. You've already slept in my bed. I think you should call me Ethan.

Sometimes I think they are, not that it's ever been said

I'm lying in my room listening to the birds outside. I used to think they sang because they were happy. But then I learned on a nature show they're really showing off. Trying to lure in some other bird so they can mate with it. Or let the other birds know not to get too close to their turf. I wish I never watched that show, because now all I think about is what those pretty sounds mean. And how they're not pretty at all.

What happens when you finally decide to tell the truth and no one listens?

She's the kind of person who looks at you when you're talking and asks you questions as if she really cares.

my flesh was glass, I spoke in little clicks and chinks, and my transparent self went about its business all that day, the usual.

I'm not sure I ever want to get married. I'm neither messing around while waiting nor looking for some "real thing." What I want is much more complicated. I want somebody I can talk to about books, who would be my friend, and why couldn't we have sex as well if we wanted to? (And used contraception.) I'm not looking for romance. Lord Peter and Harriet would seem a pretty good model to me.

You don't want anything from them except for them to exist and you to see them sometimes and talk to them, and maybe for them to like you back.

There's a thing - I've noticed it often. When I first say something, it's as if people don't hear me, they can't believe I'm saying it. Then they start to actually pay attention, they stop noticing that a teenage girl is talking and start to believe that it's worth listening to what I'm saying.

Welsh mutates initial consonants. Actually all languages do, but most of them take centuries, while Welsh does it while your mouth is still open.

What I want is much more complicated. I want somebody I can talk to about books, who would be my friend, and why couldn't we have sex as well if we wanted to? (And used contraception.)

I can't talk about my childhood at all, because cannot say "I" when I mean "we," and if I say "we" it leads to a conversation about how I have a dead sister, instead of what I want to talk about. I found that out in the summer. So I don't talk about it.

On the one hand, Gramma and Grampar never mentioned sex at all. They must have done it, or they wouldn't have had Auntie Teg and my mother, but I don't think they did it more than twice. Then there's the way they talk about sex in school and in church. And there's no sex, hardly any love stuff at all, in Middle Earth, which always made me think yes, the world would be better off without it.

They were not always in accord, but over time they developed such good communication that even their most bitter disagreements became part of their axiomatic assumption of mutual long-term ongoing love and life together.

M]aybe we should have talked about this before. Well, we weren't gods, we couldn't go back and talk about it any earlier than now, but we could talk about it now. We go on from where we are.

I talked far more than I should have. I knew it even at the time. I just couldn't stop myself. I didn't actually interrupt anyone, which would be unforgivable, I just didn't hold back enough to give other people a turn.

Telephone conversations are so inadequate, so lacking in expression and gesture and everything.

E não é sem assim que as palavras tem canto e plumagem.

Racconto a vossignoria quel che io so e vossignoria non sa; ma soprattutto voglio raccontare quello che io non so se so, e può essere che vossignoria sappia

Vim. Diadorim nada não me disse. A poeira das estradas pegava pesada de orvalho.

toda ação principia mesmo é por uma palavra pensada

Amaro likes words. . . . I think he enjoys their taste.

Reconhecer que somos irmãos é sempre suspeito, quando esse reconhecer envolve, de nossa parte, a aceitação de condições duras e, da outra parte, não envolve nada além de palavras

Words are like spices. Too many is worse than too few.