Quotes About Conversation

You're not the type to natter, are you?" David Ames said in response to my silence. I said the first thing that came to mind. "Kind of a sexist way to describe someone talking." He blinked. "You wouldn't describe your grandsons as nattering," I elaborated.

Earth to Sawyer?" Campbell said. I had no idea what I'd missed. "We were just about to discuss how incredibly debonair I look in this hat," Boone informed me, sliding his fingers along its brim. "I was born to fedora." I wasn't sure whether the pained look on Nick's face was the result of Boone's use of the word fedora as a verb or the conversation he, Campbell, and I had been having before we'd been interrupted.

Right." Thea dabbed at her lips with her napkin. "No feminism at the dinner table.

No feminism at the dinner table.

Mijn zus woont hier,' zei ik tegen hem. 'Lichtbruin haar, ongeveer zo groot? Zit binnen te praten met de First Lady, denk ik?

Fancy meeting you here, Heiress." "You," I told him, "are the most annoying person on the face of the planet.

Zodra Alisa eenmaal een onderwerp had aangesneden, kreeg je haar ongeveer net zo makkelijk van haar spoor als een hogesnelheidstrein.

Reggie had always been a quiet kid, even with her own family, and part of the reason for this was that she never knew the right thing to say. Words didn't come easily to her, they were stumbling blocks rather than lines of connection. And only later, after the fact, when she was replaying conversations in her head late at night, did the right words come—a cruel joke, too little, too late.

When she looks up again two miles later, she says, "You know what I like about you, Finch? You're interesting. You're different. And I can talk to you. Don't let that go to your head." The air around us feels charged and electric, like if you were to strike a match, the air, the car, Violet, me—everything might just explode. I keep my eyes on the road. "You know what I like about you, Ultraviolet Remarkey-able? Everything.

It's just to talk. Nothing more. It's not like I'm hitting on you. Finch: Unless you want me to. Hit on you, I mean. Me: No. Finch: "No" you don't want me to come over? Or "no" you don't want me hitting on you?

All the information you need can be given in dialogue.

MEN who discussed murder in normal tones.

Roy might know who James Joyce is, I'm not sure, but it wouldn't matter. You mention books to Roy and he thinks you're trying to act superior.

Piers looked up at him. 'You're new. What's your name?' 'Neythen, my lord.' 'Sounds like a terrible illness. No, more like a bowel problem. I'm sorry, Lord Sandys, your son has contracted neythen and won't live a month. No, no, there's nothing I can do. Sandys would have preferred hearing that to syphilis.

The ladies had reached that vaguely melancholy hour when they felt it necessary to tell each other their histories.

And they wandered side by side, each talking at the top of his voice, for his own benefit, as the stars grew paler and paler in the morning sky. (51)

You have an immense fault which will close all doors against you: you cannot converse for two minutes with a fool without showing him that he is one.

Is she sane?' asked Mrs. Linton, appealing to me. 'I'll repeat our conversation, word for word, Isabella; and you point out any charm it could have had for you.

Cap capellà del món no s'hauria imaginat un cel tan bell com el que ells concebien en aquella conversa innocent. Escoltant-los, sanglotant, no podia evitar desitjar que tots tres estiguéssim junts en aquell cel, fora de perill.

Is it that they think it a duty to be continually talking,' pursued she: 'and so never pause to think, but fill up with aimless trifles and vain repetitions when subjects of real interest fail to present themselves, or do they really take a pleasure in such discourse?

I felt it shelter to speak to you.

And so, as kinsmen met a-night, We talked between the rooms, Until the moss had reached our lips, And covered up our names.

Well, anyway… it's over," I say, realizing that those two words lump me right in with a hoard of naive women who say it's over while praying it's not, looking for any shred of hope, insisting that they only want closure when what they really want is that one last conversation disguised as seeking closure while they work to keep the door open for more.

Conversation felt healing, and we all needed that.