Quotes About Communication

36:...Something has happened to our intelligence. My reasoning is this: arrangements of part of the Brain is a language. We are parts of the Brain; therefore, we are language. Why, then, do we not know this?

God, they read a book, he thought, and they spout on forever.

Entering the phone booth, he did a phone thing. Ring-ring-ring.

Relation of word to object . . . what is a word? Arbitrary sign. But we live in words. Our reality, among words not things. No such thing as thing anyhow; a gestalt in the mind.

Never walk over a writer, I said to myself, unless you're positive he can't rise us behind you. If you're going to burn him, make sure he's dead. Because if he's alive, he will talk: talk in written form, on the printed, permanent page.

The linking and relinking of objects by the Brain is actually a language, but not a language like ours (since it is addressing itself and not someone or something outside itself.)

The first thing to depart in mental illness is the familiar. And what takes its place is bad news because not only can you not understand it, you also cannot communicate it to other people. The madman experiences something, but what it is or where it comes from he does not know.

Maybe I shouldn't have told you––about it being electrical." She put her hand out, touched his arm; she felt guilty, seeing the effect it had on him, the change. "No, Rick said. "I'm glad to know. Or rather––" He became silent. "I'd prefer to know.

Her life won't differ much when her cancer returns," Maurice said finally. "Does she talk about her cancer?" "Yes." "To clerks in stores? Everyone she meets?" "Yes." "Okay, her life will differ; she'll get more sympathy. She'll be better off.

Are?you dying? she asked. Just can't breathe. This air. Poor, poor?good lord. I've forgotten your name. Hell of a thing. Barney! He clutched her. No! Don't stop! She arched her back. Her teeth chattered. I wasn't going to, he said. Oooaugh! He laughed. Don't please laugh at me. Not meant unkindly. A long silence, then. Then, Oof.

Entering the phone booth, he did a phone thing.

Oh no, she said, still smiling; her eyes poured over with light, that of compassion. She understood how he felt, that this was not an impulse only. But the answer was still no, and, he knew, it would always be;

His thoughts, Helio said, are as clear as plastic to me, and mine likewise to him. We are both prisoners, Mister, in a hostile land. At that Arnie laughed loud and long. Truth always amuses the ignorant, Helio said.

It was hell living in the twenty-first century. Information transfer had reached the velocity of light.

She used to stand there and watch me do this shit back then, flashing me "Die!" messages, like they say in transactional analysis. Die. Do not be.

You left the cap off the toothpaste tube again.' And then I realized it was my ex-wife.

The gulf between their world and hers had manifested itself, however much they'd meditated on how to ball her, and remained.

You and I, when we argue, are made in each other. For when I understand what you understand, I become your understanding, and am made in you, in a certain ineffable way. —Erigena

From downstairs his mother called, "Sammy, you're not going out on the roof, are you?" "No," he yelled back. I am out, he told himself, making in his mind a fine distinction.

You missed the vidcall this morning. Miss Wild told me; it came through the switchboard exactly at nine.

Without a woman we'd discuss racing cars and horses and tell dirty jokes; no civilization.

he picked up his desk vidphone and said to Miss Marsten, "Get me the Happy Dog Pet Shop on Sutter Street.

If he finds out I'm a chickenhead he won't talk to me; that's always the way it is for some reason. I wonder why?

Exchange between Arctor and Barris: "Now that my Olds is laid up indefinitely, Arctor said, "I've decided I should sell it and buy a Henway. What's a Henway? Barris said. (…) About three pounds, Arctor said.