Quotes About Communication

Gossip isn't scandal and its not merely malicious. It's chatter about the human race by lovers of the same

How many girls?" Mother asked. "Two, now," Peter answered. "I mean three. Three girls!" He looked quickly at Jake. " Three girls, all right. I counted." Mother studied him curiously.

I supposed we could just ring the doorbell and say, 'Look, let's bury the hatchet and be friends,'" Beth suggested. The girls looked at each other and smiled a little. "Naw," said Caroline. "This is a lot more fun.

But I also know that you can lie not only by what you say but what you don't say.

He slowly unfolded it, cleared his throat, scratched his head, and said, "Would you rather go to the dentist or throw up?" Good grief , thought Caroline, as the minutes ticked by. How was he supposed to be her for a day if he didn't ask any better questions than that?

Mother went back inside when the police had gone, but Dad did not. Instead he walked to the edge of the porch, cupped his hands over his mouth, and bellowed like a bull moose. "Wallace, Joshua, and Joseph! Get in here! Now !" "You want to spend the night in the woods?" Wally whispered to his brothers. "He'd just come looking for us," said Josh.

But . . . but what will we talk about? We can't just sit here staring at each other and stuffing cookies in our mouths!" Beth had protested, and Caroline noticed that her cheeks were strangely pink. "Why, Beth, we'll talk about whatever comes to mind. With eleven people in a room, it shouldn't be hard to think of something to say.

Wally faced the front of the room again. When he and Caroline were not speaking, she drove him nuts. When he and Caroline were speaking, she drove him nuts. It was hopeless. He couldn't escape. His destiny was to be driven absolutely crazy by Caroline Malloy.

Writing is, in the end, that oddest of anomalies: an intimate letter to a stranger.

A comma . . . catches the gentle drift of the mind in thought, turning in on itself and back on itself, reversing, redoubling, and returning along the course of its own sweet river music; while the semicolon brings clauses and thoughts together with all the silent discretion of a hostess arranging guests around her dinner table.

Il vaut mieux se taire et passer pour un con plutôt que de parler et de ne laisser aucun doute sur le sujet.

Je n'aimais pas poser les questions qui poussaient mes interlocuteurs à se moquer en soupirant de notre crédulité d'Occidentaux survitaminés et sous-informés. (p. 18)

Myslím, že nejsem ani básník, ani spisovatel, ani umÄ›lec. Ale ?lovÄ›k, který nenaÅ¡el jiný zp?sob, jak z?stat ve styku s životem, jak se udržet nad hladinou. Psal jsem, jako se chytáme záchranného pásu.

When it is possible to speak a word, it liberates. We do not always remember that it is precisely a word, a Word articulated in our flesh, which has liberated us.

Had he known of this on the way over—but of course that was the thing about information. Without it, a person suffered enormous complications.

How do you like me now?" she inquired archly. He was cautious. "I thought you didn't really care for me. Why are you making yourself so lovely?" She grimaced prettily. "I told you my deepest sins, and you didn't reject me. That's worth something.

But the text recorded it as 'Hell, you're in my hand'—an H instead of a W." Irene grimaced. "You mean everyone who sees that text will believe my husband swore at his sword?" "I'm afraid so," Chem said apologetically.

Speeches of self-justification were seldom worthwhile for any but the speaker.

Penny brought home a paper with her teacher's marking on it, and all I can say is the man comes across like an illiterate ass. He writes don't end a sentence with a proposition. No, that's not a typo, and yes, you can end a sentence with a preposition.

The man glanced up. "Hello. Tweeter tells me you're Kody, a fellow Mundanian, newly arrived, and you want to compare notes." "Uh, yes, in essence," Kody agreed, taken aback. All that from one tweet? Well, maybe it did fit within 140 characters.

Each one of us has within him a whole world of things, each man of us his own special world. And how can we ever come to an understanding if I put in the words I utter the sense and value of things as I see them; while you who listen to me must inevitably translate them according to the conception of things each one of you has within himself. We think we understand each other, but we never really do.

Mira, I wanna tell you something. I ain't got time to tell you what I should've when I had time, but I dig you a whole lot. Deeg you? she asked, puzzled. I explained to her what it meant and told her that I would write it to her in Spanish and say it like it was.

O que de pior acontece a qualquer pessoa é tornar-se inimigo da palavra

Todos os que afirmam saber as coisas sobre as quais medito, seja por tê-las ouvido de mim, seja por tê-las ouvido de outros, seja por tê-las descoberto sozinhos, não é possível, segundo meu parecer, que tenham entendido algo desse objeto. Sobre essas coisas não existe um texto escrito meu nem existirá jamais.