Quotes About Conversation

I can never judge a man while he's talking

But after dark all that is most satisfactory in French life swims back into the picture—the sprightly tarts, the men arguing with a hundred Voilàs in the cafés, the couples drifting, head to head, toward the satisfactory inexpensiveness of nowhere.

I returned rather feebly to the subject of her daughter. 'I suppose she talks, she eats, and everything.

He waited rather breathlessly for her next remark...

Everywhere I go some silly girl asks me if I've read 'This Side of Paradise.

Tell me about it. Tell me about your private life, Baby, and your opinions. You never do - we always talk about Nicole.

The way he looked at Julia made her feel attractive. For half an hour, as their sentences floated pleasantly among the scent of violets and snowdrops, forget-me-nots and pansies, her interest in him grew.

Anyhow he gives large parties,' said Jordan, changing the subject with an urbane distaste for the concrete. 'And I like large parties. They're so intimate. At small parties there isn't any privacy.

Il lui parlait, et ses phrases étaient comme de petites lettres qu'il lui aurait écrites, car, une fois qu'il les avait prononcées, elles mettaient un petit moment à l'atteindre.

I returned rather feebly to the subject of her daughter. "I suppose she talks, and—eats, and everything.

Old man and I had a long talk about the weather just now.

A very confused, very juvenile moment of awkward backings and bumpings followed, and everyone found himself talking to the person he least desired to. Isabella manoeuvred herself and Froggy Parker, freshman at Harvard, with whom she had once played hop-scotch, to a seat on the stairs. A humorous reference to the past was all she needed. The things Isabelle could do socially with one idea were remarkable.

You're awfully good at sizing people up.' Amory denied this painfully. However, he sized up several people for her. Then they talked about hands. 'You've got awfully nice hands,' she said.

I suppose she talks, and—eats, and everything.

She could make fascinating and almost brilliant conversation out of the thinnest air that ever floated through a drawing-room.

Seated in a car full of women, squashed between his six-foot landlady and Sybil Underwood, having to listen to them talk nonstop all the way to Atlanta and back, was too much for him to bear.

as they walked home, and she would

you. We can drive to Argone and talk to Constance. She has documented records

um professor de matemática e seu aluno conversam em torno de cálices de vodca norte-vietnamita: [...] Um reacionário não anda cem metros em Cuba sem ser apanhado. E sabe quem vai pegá-lo? Eu, ele ali, aquele garçom, o motorista que está na porta, sentado à direção do carro. Quer dizer, o povo.

Talking to people makes me feel like sleeping. Only my ghostly and imaginary friends, only the conversations I have in my dreams, are genuinely real and substantial.

I know of no pleasure like that of books, yet I read very little. Books are the entryway to dreams, but people at ease in life don't need such introductions to enter into conversation with dreams. I could never read a book and give myself over to it; always, with each step, the commentary of my intellect or my imagination interrupts the narrative sequence. After some minutes I am the one who writes and the writing is nowhere to be seen.

When all by myself, I can think of all kinds of clever remarks, quick comebacks to what no one said, and flashes of witty sociability with nobody. But all of this vanishes when I face someone in the flesh: I lose my intelligence, I can no longer speak, and after half an hour I just feel tired. Talking to people makes me feel like sleeping. Only my ghostly and imaginary friends, only the conversations I have in my dreams, are genuinely real and substantial

Every good conversation should be a two-way monologue… We should ultimately be unable to tell whether we really talked with someone or simply imagined the conversation… The best and profoundest conversations, and the least morally instructive ones, are those that novelists have between two characters from one of their books.

I know of no pleasure like that of books, yet I read very little. Books are the entryway to dreams, but people at ease in life don't need such introductions to enter into conversation with dreams. I could never read a book and give myself over to it; always, with each step, the commentary of my intellect or my imagination interrupts the narrative sequence. After some minutes I am the one who writes and the writing is nowhere to be seen.