Quotes About Communication

That was the thing about pictures--they were worth a thousand words, but sometimes they weren't the right ones.

There will always be someone else with a different view than you. I appreciate them and would never say that they are wrong. I hope that they would give me that courtesy also.

But they hadn't seen the expression on Adam's face that day. Forgiveness just wasn't an option, not in this case. Anyway, that really wasn't the point. She didn't want forgiveness. All Leonie ever wanted was for Adam to know that she'd never meant to hurt him, and if she managed that, it would be enough.

Friends don't look at each other the way you and that guy Ryan do. Friends don't smile and tease, and try to make some kind of bodily contact with one another at every available opportunity.

Because if you even make a tiny bit of room in either of those places for anyone else, then something in your relationship isn't right.

Life would be so much simpler if guys were like mood rings, and they changed color when they liked you.

Why is it I can spend a dozen Friday nights staring at the peeling walls of my "room" without anyone in the family so much as poking a head down to see if I'm alive, while the one time I actually have plans (major plans, plans that necessitate extraordinary focus and massive preparation), my stepmother suddenly suggests we sing a duet of "Getting to Know You"?

Be honest, Do I give off a vibe that says 'No, handsome stud, I don't want you to make a pass at me,' while at the same time communicating, 'Hello there, acne-ridden dwarf. Promise me we'll meet again.

Talking won't change it. But sometimes it was what she wanted most, to tell someone; often, though, she just wanted to escape those horrid feelings, to escape herself, so there was no pain, no fear, no ugliness.

I need to check in with Seth before I--" he burrowed his face into the side of her neck, his breath almost painfully warm on her throat--"give in to my unconscionable desire to put my hands on you properly.

You're an idiot," she whispered tearfully. Finally, he opened his eyes and stared up at her; by then, she had moved on to stroking his hair and crying. She sat beside him on the edge of the bed, trying very hard not to bump him or let her cold tears fall on his bare chest and arms. For a moment he blinked at her. Then he asked, "Are you dead too?

Good night, Seth." "So you're running again, then?" One of his boots thudded on the floor. "I'm not running." The other boot hit the floor. "Really?" "Really. It's just—" She stopped; she didn't have anything that would finish that sentence and be honest. "Maybe you should slow down, so I can catch you." He paused, waiting.

You're killing me here, Ash. Good, she said. She'd bend a few rules, but they both knew she wasn't going to push him beyond where he chose to go. Love wasn't to be based on trickery. But reminding him what he's refusing isn't trickery.

How was I to know? ... You didn't say anything." "I said lots of things," he corrected gently. "You just didn't hear them.

Sometimes there's power in the act; sometimes there's strength in words

Malcolm's carved a fork." She ran her finger the length of the smooth wood before offering it to Elesyria for her inspection. "A small fork. Just like I told him I wanted.

Women want their husbands to have the whole package. That means looking beyond the surface. Let's face it. His personality needs a complete overhaul. The guy's not only arrogant and obnoxious, but he's also—" "Right here," a familiar royal voice said

How did the date go?" "Bad. A text-a-holic...." "Not the good kind of trouble." "There's only one thing to say when this happens." "What's that?" "Next.

Aw, bloody hell. Please tell me you're not making her a PowerPoint presentation.

Hi," (cough), "my name is Jasmin Field. I'm a journalist. So don't piss me off. Ha ha. And um - well, I can't really act. Ha ha." No one laughed.

Why did tears make people treat you like a five-year-old when usually they meant something grown-up was going on inside?

His voice didn't rise. If anything it lowered, sliding seductively over her nerve endings.

I'm beginning to think that you aren't with child. You've simply become fat after reading too many recipes.

It's amazing the things you realize when you lose someone: you get mad at yourself for not saying the things you could've a million times, you take for granted the days spent doing nothing when you could have been with them. Anyone can be taken, at any time in our lives, but we always wait until they're gone to say the things we never had the courage to before.