Quotes About Communication

This is your genius: your own profound desire to write. Your love of words and language, your attempt to get to what poet Donald Hall called "the unsayable said." If

Poetry is an intimate act. It's about bringing forth something that's inside you—whether it is a memory, a philosophical idea, a deep love for another person or for the world, or an apprehension of the spiritual. It's about making something, in language, which can be transmitted to others—not as information, or polemic, but as irreducible art.

his discomfort seemed to soften her, for when he met her eyes again, they were kind.

Ivy!' I stammered, then glared at Kisten. 'You told Ivy? Thanks a hell of a lot. Want to call my mom next?

I'm not going to pick her up and carry her screaming to the basement," Trent said. "It's a workday. Besides, she has a crutch." "Crutch or no, she's hurt!" Ceri protested. "I mean," Trent said intently, "she can hit me with it if I do something she doesn't like.

I won't snatch, harm, or scare to death people with you or use checking up on you as an excuse to cause trouble. You're worse than my mother, Rachel." "Mine, too," Jenks muttered.

Al was looking at me in disbelief. "Not your lover?" "No." "But he is Rachel candy," Al said, his confusion too honest to be faked.

I do so like all-encompassing words. Verb, adjective, noun. Yes, you are shitted.

Quen's gaze went to Ivy and Jenks. Peeved, I crossed my legs and shook my head. We're a team. I'm not asking them to leave so you can tell me of whatever piss-poor problem you've landed yourself in. The older elf's brow wrinkled. He took an angry breath. Look, I said, my finger jabbing out to point at him. I don't like you. Jenks doesn't like you. And Ivy wants to eat you. Start talking.

Why? I said, taking the paper from him as Al smiled. If it's not what I agreed to, I will burn Al's gonads off the first chance I get. Turn around. I need to use your back for a second. Ah, hold on a tick, Al said, snapping his fingers again and catching the new paper drifting down. How silly of me. This is the one. Here.

Maybe if I didn't say anything about what happened, we could get back to the way we were. Ignoring a problem was a perfectly acceptable way to deal with it, as long as both people agree never to bring it up again.

You are the devil to talk to, Rachel, he said curtly. Will you shut up and listen?

Bye, Skimmer. Thanks for breakfast." "You're welcome." Translation: Choke on it, bitch. 

I didn't know what I was going to say, a feeling that was compounded when the line clicked open and Trent's very muzzy voice murmured, "Rachel? Mmm, hi.

You tried to slide his original curse back onto him?" Al said in wonder. "At the restaurant? And I stopped you? Sweet mother pus bucket!" he exclaimed, and I swear, dust sifted from the ceiling. "Rachel, we have to work on this communication thing.

Tell me where you want it," I said. Minias drew back, his purple robes shifting about his ankles. "You're asking me?" "Well, unless you want a big R on your forehead.

Tink's little pink dildo, Rache! Haven't you gotten rid of those condoms yet? They got a shelf life, you know.

And I can't read your mind either, just your face.

She's not much of a team player, more of a team yeller.

In a smooth, unhurried motion, Jenks reached out and slapped him. "Seems to me you should pull the brains out of your ass.

Rache," he said, trying to get into my line of sight. "What more do you need? God to send a telegram? (Jenks)

Who's going to keep them from wiping us out species by species? Not me. We aren't prepared for a new demographic of magic-using humans who are sadistic, power hungry, don't like Inderlanders, and see genocide as an acceptable form of communication.

Listen before you draw your battle lines, lest you alienate your allies.

Skimmer's and my relationship was probably going to nosedive like a brick with wings.