Quotes About Communication

Maybe language is kind, giving us these double meanings. Maybe it's trying to teach us a lesson, that we can always be two things at once.

hurt tends to drown out sorry.

It's not the easy things that let you get to know a person.

I am so used to hints and mixed messages, saying things that might mean what they sort of sound like they mean. Games and contests, roles and rituals, talking in twelve languages at once so the true words won't be so obvious. I am not used to a plainspoken, honest truth.

If I'm not telling you something, it's for a reason. Just because you trust me, it doesn't mean I have to automatically trust you. Trust doesn't work like that.

I think they have compatible silences.

I wish I could remember the moment when I was a kid and I discovered that the letters linked into words, and that the words linked to real things. What a revelation that must have been. We don't have the words for it, since we hadn't yet learned the words. It must have been astonishing, to be given the key to the kingdom and see it turn in our hands so easily.

gothblood4567: 'sup? finalwill: i'm working. gothblood4567 on what? finalwill: my suicide note. i can't figure out how to end it. gothblood4567: lol

and when he catches me off guard and says 'i love you' i catch him off guard and say 'i need your help.

taciturn , adj. There are days you come home silent. You say words, but you're still silent. I used to bombard you with conversational crowbars, but now I simply let the apartment fall mute. I hear you in the room -- turning on music, typing on the keys, getting up for a drink, shifting in your chair. I try to have my conversation with those sounds.

Why do we feel the need to disconnect in order to connect?

Dispel, v. It was the way you said, "I have something to tell you." I could feel the magic drain from the room.

I never have people tell me their stories. I usually have to figure them out myself. Because I know that if people tell me stories, they will expect them to be remembered. And I cannot guarantee that. There is no way to know if the stories stay after I'm gone. And how devastating would it be to confide in someone and have the confidence disappear? I don't want to be responsible for that.

There is something so intimate about saying the truth out loud. There is something so intimate about hearing the truth said. There is something so intimate about sharing the truth, even if you are not entirely sure what it means.

Yes, time can be buoyed by wordlessness, but it needs to be anchored in words.

Sharing truth is not the kind of gift that comes in wrapping paper - ripped open once and, there, you're done. No, this is a gift that must be unfolded.

I asked you what you wanted and you said you didn't want anything. And I told you I wasn't planning on giving you anything; I was planning on giving you something.

I want to talk to you and be random with you and be ridiculous with you.

Family, like arsenic, works best in small doses...unless you prefer to die.

We are so used to releasing words. We don't know what to do with them if they stay.

So there we were. Once upon a time, during the storybook version of dating we'd gone through, I'd pretended that it was possible to love her when I only mildly liked her. Now I had no desire to pretend we'd ever be in love, and I liked her madly. 'Can we try to be wise with each other for a very long time?' I asked her. She laughed. 'You mean, can we share our fuckups and see if we can get any wisdom out of them?' 'Yeah,' I said. 'That would be nice.

I am learning that a life isn't real unless someone else knows its reality. And I want my life to be real.

I find myself looking into people's eyes more than I ever did before. And I realize, that's where we stop being a certain gender or color. Just look right into the center of the eye.

I'm swimming in your cadences that you permeate my very language.