Quotes About Communication

we had once called out hello into the cauldron of the world and then run away before anyone could respond.

We don't really believe in mowing the lawn; we do it only to avoid unnecessary engagement with the neighbors.

Maybe he wouldn't say anything, which is the worst thing men do.

We don't have intercourse anymore. I'm not complaining, it's my own fault. I lie there beside him and try to send signals to my vagina, but it's like trying to get cable channels on a Tv that doesn't have cable. My mind requests sex, but my vagina is just waiting for the next time it has to pee. It thinks its whole job in life is to pee.

And why had Deb's last boyfriend dumped her? I dumped him. Maybe you didn't French-kiss him enough. I promise you that wasn't it. Tell me how many times a day you kissed, and I'll say if it was enough. Four hundred. Not enough.

I wish there were a class where we could just keep going around the circle. around and around, until we had finally said everything about ourselves.

Well,I have a theory that men don't actually cry less than women,they just do it differently. Since we never saw our fathers cry,we are forced to invent our own unique method.

I pressed my lips against his ear and whispered again, It's not your fault. Perhaps this was really the only thing I had ever wanted to say to anyone, and be told.

LA isn't a walking city, or a subway city, so if someone isn't in my house or my car we'll never be together, not even for a moment. And just to be absolutely sure of that, when I leave my car my iPhone escorts me, letting everyone else in the post office know that I'm not really with them, I'm with my own people, who are so hilarious that I can't help smiling to myself as I text them back.

He stood right in front of me and pinched my arm and said, Can I see your room? Such relief. Even the pinch was good. I understood completely about needing to hurt someone at the same time that you are giving them something.

I do this before I bring someone new into my life; I try to get a sense of who I am so that I can make it easier for them to know me.

We still kissed frequently, usually a cluster of small pecks. An acronym for our early deep kisses. Which in a way was more intimate because only we knew what it stood for.

We are social animals, and everything we do is because of other people, because we love them, or because we don't.

When I leave my car my iPhone escorts me, letting everyone else in the post office know that I'm not really with them, I'm with my own people, who are so hilarious that I can't help smiling to myself as I text them back.

I'm not saying I asked for it, only that there are moments when we are sending signals not just to the boys in the room but to all of creation.

I cried in English, I cried in French, I cried in all the languages, because tears are the same all around the world. Esperanto.

When I said "a lot of work," I moved my hands apart to represent all the work. He stared at the space between my palms and asked if I played the accordion. I could feel the accordion between my hands and how impressed he would be if I said yes.

I wanted her to know, from the moment she heard my voice, that I was dying. I delivered a salutation so craven, so wretched, that it fell through language like pebbles. Hello.

But we couldn't see to form a chain of doubt between each other's eyes. And her voice had a vibrant certainty that made believing her feel liberating and obvious.

and together we pushed through paragraphs, painstakingly sounding out the words, knitting them into human sentences that said very little.

Not everyone has to be literate, there are some great reasons for resisting language, and one of them is love.

Past a certain age, they give up on the name games, which is regrettable for someone like me who loves anything that involves going around a circle and saying something about yourself. I wish there was a class where we could just keep going around the circle, around and around, until we had finally said everything about ourselves.

It's not your fault. Perhaps this was really the only thing I had ever wanted to say to anyone, and be told.

on the long ride home, neither of us said anything. we were kites flying in opposite directions attached to strings held by one hand.