Quotes About Communication

Honesty is the only way with anyone, when you'll be so close as to be living inside each other's skins.

And whose fault was it that the boy swallowed down lies, when no one would feed him the truth?

She considered the familiar conundrum inherent in complimenting a child for doing something well in the course of what ought not to have been done at all, and kept her peace.

The book is not an object on the table; it is an event in the reader's mind. It's a process, through which an idea in my mind triggers an idea, more-or-less corresponding, in yours. The words on the page are merely the means to that end, a think-by-numbers set, a bottled daydream. The book, therefore, is only finished when someone reads it. - Sidelines

Talking to the gods had been a much more comfortable proposition when there had seemed no danger of Their talking back.

Yes, of course. Tomorrow . . . or you can call me whenever you're ready. You have my number?" "Yes, you gave me several of them back on Komarr. I still have them.

I can tell you truths. I cannot give you understanding. For how can one give what one does not possess? I have always told the truth.

She opened her mouth once to speak, closed it, then finally ripped out, "Why aren't you on your way home? I gave you an order, Lieutenant!" Stuben, anticipating a warmer reception, was momentarily nonplussed. "We took a vote," he said simply, as though it explained everything. Cordelia

Admiral Naismith, said Quinn stiffly, is not a dwarf. He's nearly five feet tall. And I am not 'in love' with him, you low-minded twit; I merely admire his brilliance. Professionally.

What did it say that Nikys had better luck getting a straight answer from a chaos demon than a man? Nothing new, more's the pity.

Tell her about it," he whispered to the doctor. "I can't." "Need we distress—" "Now. Get it over with." His voice cracked and croaked.

As had she, she supposed, but given that she was Aral's wife, very few men who weren't obviously insane had ever bothered her with unwanted advances. Although her own social obliviousness had doubtless also helped smooth things over.

Ah." "And what does ah mean?" he asked, slightly exasperated. "It's sort of like biting my tongue, but less painful.

Her hands started to reach out, but then retreated behind her back and consoled each other there. "I am so sorry. But surely you see any girl must be quite afraid to marry a man who could set her on fire with a word!" He'd dreamed of setting her alight with kisses. "Any man could set a girl on fire with a torch, but he'd have to be deranged!

Bothari maintained an admirable stillness, against the wall, but Miles could feel his eyes boring through his shoulder blades with his sharpest what-the-hell-are-you-doing-now look. Miles did not turn.

I've never taught anybody before . . ." He smiled up at her, willing confidence into her face, her eyes, her spine. "Look, you can probably kill the first two days just having them demonstrate what they know on each other, while you stand around and say "Um," and "Hm," and "God help us," and things like that.

I figure we can tell events exactly as they happened, just leave out that one tiny detail." "You figure, do you? You must be using a different kind of math than the rest of the universe does.

The woman is so full of silences, they spill over.

She should have called him on the comconsole, but Illyan had been so prompt with his offer. . . . They passed the bare, baking Barrayaran garden, sloping down from the sidewalk. On the far side of the desert expanse, a small, lone figure sat on the curving edge of a raised bed of dirt. "Wait, stop!

About Rish. You're not making her, like, fall in love with you or anything, are you? Because you could be reassigned or something, and have to drop her. And I don't want to be stuck in a flat full of weeping, angry women, with no male to take it out on but me.

It was the fault of the hand massage; it lulled her. She said unthinkingly, "What?" "Fall in love with you. Sweet Ista." She jerked back. She had heard that endearment before, but not on those lips. "Don't call me that." "Bitter Ista?" His brows climbed. "Cranky Ista? Cross, ill-tempered, cantankerous Ista?" She snorted; he relaxed, and his lips quirked again.

Miles decided he would have to point it out to his cousin at some appropriate moment, preferably when Ivan's mouth was full.

Abuse—physical, mental, emotional?" "Sir?" said Tej, staring up in palpable confusion. "Does your husband beat you?" "No!" "Do you beat him?" "No!" said Ivan. "Good grief, sir!" "Does he insult you?" "Certainly not!" Their voices overlapped on that one.

Vorkosigan probably knew how, she reflected bitterly. Just like a man, to be underfoot in her life for days and then a quarter of a solar system away when she really needed him.