After Talking To You Quotes & Sayings

A one-armed bunk master sets forth rules in a belligerent torrent. "This is your parade uniform, this is your field uniform, this is your gym uniform. Suspenders crossed in the back, parallel in the front. Sleeves rolled to the elbow. Each boy is to carry a knife in a scabbard on the right side of the belt. Raise your right arm when you wish to be called upon. Always align in rows of ten. No books, no cigarettes, no food, no personal possessions, nothing in your locker but uniforms, boots, knife, polish. No talking after lights-out. Letters home will be posted on Wednesdays. You will strip away your weakness, your cowardice, your hesitation. You will become like a waterfall, a volley of bullets - you will all surge in the same direction at the same pace toward the same cause. You will forgo comforts; you will live by duty alone. You will eat country and breathe nation." Do — Anthony Doerr

Every agent has a Sig Weiss - as a rosy dream. You sit there day after day paddling through oceans of slush, hoping one day to run across a manuscript that means something - sincerity, integrity, high word rates - things like that. You try to understand what editors want in spite of what they say they want, and then you try to tell it to writers who never listen unless they're talking. You lend them money and psychoanalyze them and agree with them when they lie to themselves. When they write stories that don't make it, it's your fault. When they write stories that do make it, they did it by themselves. And when they hit the big time, they get themselves another agent. In the meantime, nobody likes you. — Theodore Sturgeon

Hey," he says.
I feel foolish for being out of breath and standing over him. The moonlight cuts a line down my chest. "Hey," I say.
"Checking on me?"
"I couldn't sleep. Scottie. She's in the bathroom." I stop talking.
"Yeah?" he says and sits up.
"She's playacting." I don't know how to say it. I don't need to say it. "She's kissing the mirror."
"Oh," he says. "I used to do some messed-up things as a kid. Still do."
I feel wide awake, which always makes me angry in the middle of the night. I'm useless without sleep. I can't get myself to go back to my own room. I sit on the end of the bed by his feet. "I'm worried about my daughters," I say. "I'm worried there's something wrong with them."
Sid rubs his eyes.
"Forget it," I say. "Sorry for waking you up."
"It's going to get worse," he says. "After your wife dies." He holds the blanket up to his chin. — Kaui Hart Hemmings

A good man buys you tampons when you run out. He does the dishes. He makes you coffee before you're awake in the morning. He listens to you when you're talking, even if it's about home decor. He goes out of his way to touch you, even if it's just your hand. He doesn't call it 'babysitting' when he looks after his own children. He calls you from work just to hear your voice. And he always thinks you're beautiful, even
no, especially
when you don't. — Katherine Center

Concrete you can mold, you can press it into - after all, you haven't any straight lines in your body. Why should we have straight lines in our architecture? You'd be surprised when you go into a room that has no straight line - how marvelous it is that you can feel the walls talking back to you, as it were. — Philip Johnson

And there was something familiar about the cadence of the words. The language. It was him.
I wrote:
I know who you are. I recognize your voice. by kidzero
I felt a little dizzy after I sent it, maybe because I had been holding my breath. A new message pinged and the air rushed out of me like a deflated balloon.
you shouldn't be talking to strangers anyway. who am I? by anonymous
I didn't really know his name or anything about him, but I couldn't admit that now. I wanted to keep talking to him. I quickly typed:
You are the Unidentified. The Unidentified refuses to be typecast, target-marketed, corporate-identified, defined. by kidzero — Rae Mariz

It's okay if you finish cooking something easy after your guests arrive - some dishes must be prepared a la minute, as chefs say. Just remember to keep talking. — Ted Allen

I mean, you could lie here day after day, if you wanted to, and think about nothing but waterbugs. Not chase waterbugs, mind you, just think about them. You could spend your whole day, every day, just wondering and pondering about waterbugs, and talking to others about waterbugs ... and before you realized it, you'd be old. One day you'd realize that you'd never actually seen a waterbug ... but by then you wouldn't want to, because it would spoil all your beautiful ideas. — Tad Williams

I had a period after touring the first record where I didn't agree with the way things worked in the music industry as far as how you release music, demand, the pace of everything. You don't know who's talking to you. Who's Spotify? Who's iTunes? Who are all those bloggers? Who says I have to do this? Why do you have to do all this press? Why do I have to do so many shows? Why do I have to do a regular album right now? I don't understand it. — Lykke Li

The woods played on our imaginations the most after dark, in our dorms as we were trying to fall asleep. You almost thought then you could hear the wind rustling the branches, and talking about it seemed only to make things worse. I remember one night, when we were furious with Marge K.
she'd done something really embarrassing to us during the day
we chose to punish her by hauling her out of bed, holding her face against the window pane and ordering her to look up at the woods. At first she kept her eyes screwed shut, but we twisted her arms and forced open her eyelids until she saw the distant outline against the moonlit sky, and that was enough to ensure for her a sobbing night of terror. — Kazuo Ishiguro

He chuckled. "Be focused. Direct all your thoughts to one point. Let the prayers take effect. Let them change you into a new person, Tamar. Just like Moses, after forty days of talking to God on Sinai, became a new being." The tabby crept past and squeezed between his legs. — Ruchama King Feuerman

I often look to men to model behavior," she goes on after a pause. "Not because I want to squelch what's feminine about me, but because sometimes I want a little more action, a little less feeling in my interactions. I've been doing this thing lately where I try to talk slower at meetings. I take a lot of meetings with women and we all talk really fast. But every guy talks so much slower. Maybe there's a scientist who could tell me why, but I think men are just a little bit more comfortable taking up conversational real estate. So I've been seeing how slow I can tolerate talking. I'm doing it now. Let me tell you, it's really hard for me. — Amy Poehler

Gemma talking to Charley ...
"Got it. Have you seen my pants?"
"Speaking of which, how did you get home without them?"
"I borrowed a pair of you sweats. I ran into a convenience store with them on. I talked to neighbors out in their yard when I pulled up. And only after I got inside did I realize the had 'Exit Only' written across the back."
"You stole my favorite sweats?"
"I wanted to die."
"It's weird that sweats would make you suicidal. I'd analyze the crap out of that if I were you."
"Do you actually wear those in public?"
"Only when I go out in them — Darynda Jones

Here. All of you. And you, doorkeeper. No one is to be let out of the house today. And anyone I catch talking about this young lady will be first beaten to death and then burned alive and after that be kept on bread and water for six weeks. There. — C.S. Lewis

The call was already under way when Lauren walked into his office. Nick gestured toward his chair and got up so taht she could sit at his desk and take notes.Two minutes after Lauren sat down, he leaned over her from behind, braced his hands on the desk on either side of her and brushed his lips across her hair.
Lauren's self-control snapped. "Damn you, stop it!" she burst out.
"What?" "What?" "What?" three masculine voices chorused.
Nick leaned toward the speaker and drawled, "My secretary thinks you're talking too fast,and she'd like you to stop it so she can catch up."
"Well,all she had to do was ask," one offended male replied.
"I hope you're satisfied!" Lauren whispered furiously.
"I'm not," Nick chuckled in her ear. "But I'm going to be. — Judith McNaught

Misa: Hey, Light. Wanna come sleep with me tonight?
Light: Wh-what are you talking about ... ?
Misa: Ha ha ha! Just kidding! You're saving me for after we catch Kira, right? You don't have to be shy about it!
L: Yes, Light. There's no need to be shy.
Light: I'm not being shy!
L: No need to be so serious either — Tsugumi Ohba

A Knock On The Door

They ask me if I've ever thought about the end of
the world, and I say, "Come in, come in, let me
give you some lunch, for God's sake." After a few
bites it's the afterlife they want to talk about.
"Ouch," I say, "did you see that grape leaf
skeletonizer?" Then they're talking about
redemption and the chosen few sitting right by
His side. "Doing what?" I ask. "Just sitting?" I
am surrounded by burned up zombies. "Let's
have some lemon chiffon pie I bought yesterday
at the 3 Dog Bakery." But they want to talk about
my soul. I'm getting drowsy and see butterflies
everywhere. "Would you gentlemen like to take a
nap, I know I would." They stand and back away
from me, out the door, walking toward my
neighbors, a black cloud over their heads and
they see nothing without end. — James Tate

Paul Ryan announced that after a lot of thought, and talking it over with family and friends, that he is not going to run for president in 2016. I'm telling you, this announcement sent shock waves through no one. — David Letterman

Kaz rapped his cane on the stone floor. He was standing in the doorway to the tomb. "If everyone is done cuddling, we have a job to do."
"Hold up," said Jesper, arm still slung around Inej. "We're not talking about the job until we figure out what those things were on the Stave."
"What things?" asked Inej.
"Did you miss half the Stave blowing up?"
"We saw the bomb at the White Rose go off," said Inej, "and then we heard another explosion."
"At the Anvil," said Nina.
"After that," Inej said, "we ran."
Jesper nodded sagely. "That was your big mistake. If you'd stuck around, you could have nearly been killed by a Shu guy with wings. — Leigh Bardugo

Myron reached for the phone and dialed Win's number. After the eighth ring he began to hang up when a weak, distant voice coughed. "Hello?"
Win?"
Yeah."
You okay?"
Hello?"
Win?"
Yeah."
What took you so long to answer the phone?"
Hello?"
Win?"
Who is this?"
Myron."
Myron Bolitar?"
How many other Myrons do you know?"
Myron Bolitar?"
No, Myron Rockefeller."
Something's wrong," Win said.
What?"
Terribly wrong."
What are you talking about?"
Some asshole is calling me at seven in the morning pretending to be my best friend."
Sorry, I forgot the time. — Harlan Coben

He spouted out, 'Richy, I've just been talking to a bloke from Blackpool on the phone, there's a boxing show tomorrow night and they are desperate for a heavyweight. Will you fight?'
I retorted, 'Are you joking. I haven't trained for four months; I'll be blowing after thirty seconds.'
He pleaded, 'Howay, man. It'll be a night out down Blackpool. — Stephen Richards

I gave her a look. "Rachel."
"Grace, you have to admit this is pretty weird. Say it. You disappearing from the hospital and Olivia is - and Sam suddenly shows up with you and, well, the freaky hallucinogenic mushrooms are looking more and more realistic, especially when you start talking about wolves. Because next step is for Isabel Culpeper to show up saying that everybody's going to be abducted by aliens and I have to tell you,I can't take that in my fragile emotional state. I think that - "
I sighed. "Rachel."
"Fine," she said. She threw her bag in the backseat and climbed in after. — Maggie Stiefvater

Please listen to me - you are not paying attention. I am talking to you about the Holy Scriptures, and you are looking at the lamps and the people lighting them. It is very frivolous to be more interested in what the lamplighters are doing ... After all, I am lighting a lamp too - the lamp of God's Word. — Saint John Chrysostom

When I got off the plane, after eleven hours of travel and forty years away, the man took my passport and asked me the purpose of my visit, I wrote in my daybook, "To mourn," and then, "To mourn try to live," he gave me a look and asked if I would consider that business or pleasure, I wrote, "Neither." "For how long do you plan to mourn and try to live?" "For as long as I can." "Are we talking about a weekend or a year?" I didn't write anything. The man said, "Next. — Jonathan Safran Foer

The deep-read is when you get gut-hooked and dragged overboard down and down through the maze of print and find, to your amazement, you can breathe down there after all and there's a whole other world. I'm talking about the kind of reading when you realize that books are indeed interactive ... I'm talking about the kind of deep-read where it isn't just the plot or the characters that matter, but the words and the way they fit together and the meandering evanescent thoughts you think between the lines: the kind of reading where you are fleetingly aware of your own mind at work. — Tim Wynne-Jones

You're lying to yourself. Voron made us into serial killers. We can be okay without violence for a few weeks, but after a couple of months, the hand starts itching for the sword. You start looking for that rush. You get irritable, life turns stale, and then one day some fool crosses your path, attacks, and as you cut him down, you feel that short moment of struggle when he leverages his life against yours. If you're lucky, he's very good and the fight lasts a few seconds. But even if it doesn't, that short moment of triumph is like getting an adrenaline shot. Suddenly color comes back into life, food tastes better, sleep is deeper, and sex is rapture.
I knew exactly what he was talking about. I lived it and I felt it. — Ilona Andrews

Tell me about Raffe."
Nothing.
"okay. Let's practice fighting," I said in an enthusiastic voice as if I'm talking to a little kid. "I could use more lessons."
Nothing.
"Right. Well, I guess I have nothing better to do now than to decorate the teddy bear with ribbons and bows. What do you think of dusky pink?"
The room wavers, then morphs. — Susan Ee

We can't lose you," she said after a few moments of awkward as hell silence. "You have to understand that we aren't doing this because we don't care about Kat. We're doing this because we love you."
"But I love her," I said without hesitation.
Dee's eyes widened, probably since it was the first time she'd herd me say it out loud, well, about anyone other than my family. I wished I had said it more often, especially to Kat. Funny how that kind of shit always turns out in the end. While you're deep in something, you never say or do what you need to. It's always after the fact, when it's too late that you realize what you've should've said or done/
It couldn't be too late. I knew that. The fact that I was still alive was testament to that. Like Dee said, though, there were worse things than death. — Jennifer L. Armentrout

I've run into people in my life who were so dramatic; people who are so extreme and so frustrating to be around that you end up thinking about them and talking about them for literally years after your experience with them is over. I've had that happen to me, and I've seen it happen to other people. I find it fascinating. — Steve Martin

One of the most surreal moments in this election was after the third debate, when I heard a talking head say, Al Gore won on substance, on the issues. But you have to give the victory to Bush because he seems presidential. — Bradley Whitford

Everything was fine with the Zen Lunatics, the nut wagon was too far away to hear us. But there was a wisdom in it all, as you'll see if you take a walk some night on a suburban street and pass house after house on both sides of the street each with the lamplight of the living room, shining golden, and inside the little blue square of the television, each living family riveting its attention on probably one show; nobody talking; silence in the yards; dogs barking at you because you pass on human feet instead of on wheels. You'll see what I mean, when it begins to appear like everybody in the world is soon going to be thinking the same way and the Zen Lunatics have long joined dust, laughter on their dust lips. — Jack Kerouac

I need to be looked after. I'm not talking about diamond rings and nice restaurants and fancy stuff - in fact, that makes me uncomfortable. I didn't grow up with it, and it's not me, you know. But I need someone to say to me, 'Shall I run you a bath?' or 'Let's go to the pub, just us.' — Kate Winslet

Reiko deepened the wrinkles at the corners of her eyes and looked at me for a time. "You've got this funny way of talking," she said. "Don't tell me you're trying to imitate that boy in Catcher in the Rye?" "No way!" I said with a smile. Reiko smiled too, cigarette in mouth. "You are a good person, though. I can tell that much from looking at you. I can tell these things after seven years of watching people come and go here: there are people who can open their hearts and people who can't. You're one of the ones who can. Or, more precisely, you can if you want to. — Haruki Murakami

You don't have any brain damage. Any. Not even minimal. So now I have to believe in miracles, because you're a living, breathing, walking, talking miracle, and that means there's something else out there after all of this, isn't there?"
A luminous smile spread across her face. "Yes," she said simply.
'Then get used to it, sweetheart, because the miracle has a permanent bodyguard. — Linda Howard

And so you live like this, day after day, striving and fighting simply to become, or even better - to be. Something better, something more. Something you can live as, live with. A little more developed, a little more define and decluttered. But then there's the people, the world, telling you over and over who you are and what you actually like and who you actually want to be, and so that real voice in your head speaks softer every day, until one day you wake up and it's gone. They killed it, these bastards, with their empty words and useless talk. These people who are acting like stones, walking without bending their knees, without rolling their feet. Talking with empty words and doing tasks without a heart. They broke it. Drowned it. These damn "experts". — Charlotte Eriksson

I'm not totally uncompetitive. It's just that for some reason I never cared all that much whether I beat others or lost to them. This sentiment remained pretty much unchanged after I grew up. It doesn't matter what field you're talking about
beating somebody else just doesn't do it for me. I'm much more interested in whether I reach the goals that I set for myself, so in this sense long-distance running is the perfect fit for a mindset like mine. — Haruki Murakami

What's wrong with the world Peter?
God, I don't know. Where do you start? People give up. We're defeatists and we stop striving or fighting or enjoying things. It doesn't matter what you're talking about - war, work, marriage, democracy, love, it all fails because everybody gives up trying after a while, we can't help ourselves. And don't ask me to solve it because I am the worst. I'd escape tomorrow if I could, from every single thing I've always wanted. — Jenny Valentine

Every now and then, we change our minds. It's our prerogative. The big secret is" - I leaned in conspiratorially - "sometimes, even we don't know why. There are times after we pick a fight where we're as confused as you are. But there's no way we're admitting it." I shrugged a shoulder, "That's why we have boobs."
Jake's eyebrows shot up.
"See, after we've acted crazy, and the guy's wondering what he's doing with us, we use them to mesmerize him, so he forgets that we're crazy." I shot Jake my most seductive smile and leaned the assets in question against his arm. "And by the way, if you look at my cleavage right now, even though I'm the one talking about it, I'll accuse you of not caring about what I saw and of just treating me like an object."
Jake swallowed hard, keeping eye contact with me, though I could tell he was fighting his impulse to look down. A mischievous glint flickered through his eyes. "And treating you like an object would be bad? — Cindi Madsen

Listening is a rare happening among human beings. You cannot listen to the word another is speaking if you are preoccupied with your appearance or impressing the other, or if you are trying to decide what you are going to say when the other stops talking, or if you are debating about whether the word being spoken is true or relevant or agreeable. Such matters may have their place, but only after listening to the word as the word is being uttered. Listening, in other words, is a primitive act of love, in which a person gives self to another's word, making self accessible and vulnerable to that word. — William Stringfellow

When I speak in casual conversation, I try to start a mental clock in my head. I actually learned this from Marty Nemko, a San Francisco career coach. He told me, "For the first thirty seconds after you start talking, imagine a green light in your head. After thirty seconds the light turns yellow. At sixty seconds, it's red." That's a good piece of advice for most any conversational situation. It takes some mental energy to monitor myself, but it works. — John Elder Robison

We who are born from above testify to the change that God has wrought in our hearts. Perhaps the best time for you to tell someone what has taken place in your life is when that person comes to you and says, 'What has happened to you? I have known you before and after. You are different, Tell me about it.' This is the best opportunity to tell someone about Christ. If they don't see a difference, all the talking in the world is meaningless. — Paris Reidhead

It's all right when you are calling on a girl or talking with friends after dinner to run a conversation like a Sunday-school excursion, with stops to pick flowers; but in the office your sentences should be the shortest distance possible between periods. — George Horace Lorimer

When my son Lowell was eight years old, one day he and I had just finished playing. Tired and exhausted, we were lying on the bed talking. He sat up in the bed and started to trace his finger over the scar behind my neck. He asked me with concern in his voice,
'Daddy, how you got this cut behind your neck?'

I hesitated for a while, wondering how much I should tell him, or if I should even tell him at all. I decided to tell him some of it, leaving out the part about the shooting. So I told him,
'I got that from fighting with one of my friends.'

Lowell didn't respond right away. After a moment of silence and tracing his finger over the scar, my son said something to me that I had never even considered up to that point. He said,
'Daddy, your friend tried to kill you! — Drexel Deal

What a grand revenge you have taken! I saw you innocent, and I deceived you. Four years after, you find me a Christian enthusiast; you then work upon me, perhaps to my complete perdition! But Tess, my coz, as I used to call you, this is only my way of talking, and you must not look so horribly concerned. Of course you have done nothing except retain your pretty face and shapely figure. I saw it on the rick before you saw me - that tight pinafore-thing sets it off, and that wing-bonnet - you field-girls should never wear those bonnets if you wish to keep out of danger. — Thomas Hardy

DEAR MISS MANNERS:
Should you tell your mother something if it is important when she is talking to company? I am six.
GENTLE READER:
Yes, you should (after saying "Excuse me"). Here are some of the things that are important to tell your mother, even though she is talking to company:
"Mommy, the kitchen is full of smoke."
"Daddy's calling from Tokyo."
"Kristen fell out of her crib and I can't put her back."
"There's a policeman at the door and he says he wants to talk to you."
"I was just reaching for my ball, and the goldfish bowl fell over."
Now, here are some things that are not important, so they can wait until your mother's company has gone home:
"Mommy, I'm tired of playing blocks. What do I do now?"
"The ice-cream truck is coming down the street."
"Can I give Kristen the rest of my applesauce?"
"I can't find my crayons."
"When are we going to have lunch? I'm hungry. — Judith Martin

Those are pretty. Did he leave you your dignity after he cut you up?"
"Asshole." Shelby didn't flinch. There was no pity in his voice, just the familiar shit talk. "You got a lot of room to talk. Looks like someone tried to cut your dick off but missed."
"Good thing too or I wouldn't be able to make your mother scream every night. — Mercy Celeste

You'd better get busy, though, buddy. The goddamn sands run out on you every time you turn around. I know what I'm talking about. You're lucky if you get time to sneeze in this goddamn phenomenal world. {...} I used to worry about that. I don't worry about it very much any more. At least I'm still in love with Yorick's skull. At least I always have time enough to stay in love with Yorick's skull. I want an honorable goddamn skull when I'm dead, buddy. I hanker after an honorable goddamn skull like Yorick's. — J.D. Salinger

Silence. At this point, I expected Corey to say something like, "Jen? I don't know. Jen who?" or "Jen? I have a cousin named Jen, I think, who goes to Georgia Tech," or "Jen? Like Jen Aniston?" or something that basically shows he has no clue what I'm talking about. But silence is not good. Silence is almost as good as saying, "Oh, Jen. She's just one of those tanned strumpets you've been imagining that I'm out clubbing with every night. Only she's not imaginary after all. The only part you got wrong was her name. — Lauren Barnholdt

I didn't want to hear this. "What the hell are you talking about?" "Necromancer with a chaser of werewolf; a drink to make any vampire giddy." He giggled. Jean-Claude never giggled. I ignored him, if you can ignore an intoxicated vampire. "Jason, can you stand?" "I think so." His voice was thick, heavy but not sleepy, more the languor after sex. Maybe I was glad my bite had hurt. "Larry?" Larry walked over to us, glancing at Magnus, gun naked in his hand. He didn't look happy. "Can we trust him?" "We're going to," I said. "Help me stand up, and let's get out of here before fangface busts a gut." Jean-Claude was doubled over with laughter. He seemed to think "fangface" was outrageously funny. Ye gods. Larry — Laurell K. Hamilton

If you're a poet, you do something beautiful. I mean, you're supposed to leave something beautiful after you get off the page and everything. The ones you're talking about don't leave a single, solitary thing beautiful. All that maybe the slightly better ones do is sort of get inside your head and leave something there, but just because they do, just because they know how to leave something, it doesn't have to be a poem for heaven's sake. It may just be some kind of terribly fascinating, syntaxy droppings
excuse the expression. Like Manlius and Esposito and all those poor men. — J.D. Salinger

I found it very difficult to feel easy around the guy, even once I'd got used to the shock of his presence. It's a strange feeling ... the first time you meet him your brain wants to scream, blow a fuse and shut itself down immediately, refusing to accept that he exists. This lasts for a couple of minutes, at which time he's still there and hasn't gone away, and in the end you just accept him because he's standing there and talking to you and after a while it almost seems normal. Almost. — Alan Moore

A foreign correspondent, after talking to me for a while, once said: "You don't seem smart enough to be so good at what you're doing. Do you have an explanation?" — Charlie Munger

You're not my matchmaker any longer. But we're still friends, and in the interest of our friendship we need to discuss page thirteen."
"Page thirteen ?"
"You've accused me of being arrogant. I've always thought of myself as confident, but I'm here to tell you, no more. After studying these pictures ... Honey, if this is what you're looking for in a man, I don't think any of us are going to measure up."
"I have no idea what you're talking about."
"Who knew flexible silicone came in so many colors?"
Her sex toy catalog. He'd taken it months ago. She'd hoped he forgotten it by now.
" Most of these products are hypoallergenic. That's good, I guess. Some with batteries, some without. I suppose that's a matter of preference. There's a harness on this one. That's pretty kinky. And ... Son of a bitch ! It says this one is dishwater safe. I'm sorry but there's just something unappetizing about that. — Susan Elizabeth Phillips

You have two choices," Vance said.
I stopped in the doorway to the hall and put my hands on my hips.
"And those would be?" I asked.
"We can talk or we can f**k."
My eyes rounded. Then they narrowed. I didn't answer.
"Though," he went on, "I should tell you even if you pick talking, after we're done, we're still gonna f**k."
I frowned at him and leaned in. "You are too much," I snapped.
He ignored my threatening posture. "You don't chose, I will, and I'll pick f**king. We can talk after. — Kristen Ashley

While Adrian was interviewing in the back, I got a table and some coffee. Trey came to visit me after about fifteen minutes.
"Is that really your brother?" he demanded.
"Yes," I said, hoping I sounded convincing.
"When you said he was looking for a job, I pictured a male version of you. I figured he'd want to color code the cups or something."
"What's your point?" I asked.
Trey shook his head. "My point is that you'd better keep looking. I was just back there and overheard him talking with my manager. She was explaining the cleanup he would have to do each night. Then he said something about his hands and manual labor. — Richelle Mead

But I was not quite with him in my thoughts, and I wonder whether that is how we got to be after living alone for a long time, that in the middle of a train of thought we start talking outloud, that the difference between talking and not talking is slowly wiped out, that the unending, inner conversations we carry on with ourselves merges with the one we have with the few people we still see, and when you live alone for too long the line which divides the one form the other becomes vague, and you do not notice when you cross that line. Is this how my future looks? — Per Petterson

Beth stared at the bowl, a fragile piece of the past, such a delicate object in Ian's large, blunt fingers. "Are you certain?"
"Of course I'm certain." His frown returned. "Do you not want it?"
"I do want it," Beth said hastily. She held her hands out for it. "I'm honored." The frown faded, to be replaced by a slight quirk of his lips.
"Is it better than a new carriage and horses and a dozen frocks?"
"What are you talking about? It's a hundred times better."
"It's only a bowl."
"It's special to you, and you gave it to me." Beth took it carefully and smiled at the dragons chasing one another in eternal determination. "It's the best gift in the world."
Ian took it gently back from her and replaced it in its slot. That made sense; in here it would stay safe and unbroken.
But the kiss Ian gave her after that was anything but sensible. It was wicked and bruising, and she had no idea why he smiled so triumphantly. — Jennifer Ashley

What are these? They look like scars." Meryn glanced down and realized he was talking about her stretch marks. Had he never seen stretch marks before?"

"Those are called stretch marks."
"Stretch marks? How did you get them?"

"Human females get them when we grow. If we grow too fast our skin rips apart and heals. It's a very painful process." Meryn lied through her teeth. There was no way she was going to discuss stretch marks after the most mind blowing sex of her life. Nope. Wasn't going to happen. Aiden's expression became reverent.
"Human females are amazing creatures, you endure so much pain yet are so fragile." He kissed each shiny line.

I'm going to hell. — Alanea Alder

There's a lot of Hollywood bullshit about flying. I mean, look at the movies about test pilots or fighter pilots who face imminent death. The controls are jammed or something really important has fallen off the plane, and these guys are talking like magpies; their lives are flashing past their eyes, and they're flailing around in the cockpit. It just doesn't happen. You don't have time to talk. You're too damn busy trying to get out of the problem you're in to talk or ricochet around the cockpit. Or think about what happened the night after your senior prom. — Robin Olds

Yeah, his school! It was his first real home, the place that meant he was special; it meant everything to him, and even after he left -"
"This is You-Know-Who we're talking about, right? Not you?" inquired Ron. — J.K. Rowling

Hosting is work. It means you don't get to go up to your room and disappear and take a nap. Like everybody else does after lunch. I'm talking about hosting, not hosting a dinner party, but hosting people staying in your home. — George Clooney

It is not good to talk about rude things you have done willingly or mistakenly. We have to forget those things after telling about it to someone virtues. Then we have another chance to correct us. Repeatedly reminding those things will give us lot of bad results. Instead it is better to talk about best things you have done. — Muditha Champika

I am here to determine my relationship."
Simon goggled. She couldn't be talking about him. Could she?
"Do you see that man?" Isabelle asked, pointing at Simon. Apparently she was talking about him. "That's Simon Lewis, and he is my boyfriend. So if any of you think about trying to hurt him because he's a mundie or
may the Angel have mercy on your soul
pursuing him romantically, I will come after you, I will hunt you down and I will crush you to powder. — Cassandra Clare

We all laughed. It was more like that whole thing that I was talking about earlier. You go to training camp and after the season is over, you might not see the guys for six months until you go back to training camp. — Bubba Smith

Hatsuharu Sohma: [after tripping Kyo] If I hadn't had tripped you, you wouldn't have stopped now would you.
[addressing the audience]
Hatsuharu Sohma: By the way what I just did was very dangerous. And if it had been anyone but Kyo they probably would have been hurt pretty badly, so don't try it at home.
Kyo Sohma: Don't try it here and who are you even talking to? — Natsuki Takaya

I have a good friend, Rudolf Serkin, the pianist, a very sensitive man. I was talking to him one day backstage after a concert and I told him that I thought he had played particularly sensitively that day. I said, "You know, many pianists are brilliant, they strike the keys so well, but somehow you are different." "Ah," he said, "I don't think you should ever strike a key. You should pull the keys with your fingers." — Andrew Wyeth

Minutes after Eve stepped into her office to coordinate her next move, Peabody rushed in.
"I've got the initial sweeper's report on the room the Lombards vacated - nothing," Peabody said hurriedly. "Canvassing cops found the bar - one block east, two south of the hotel. Door was unlocked. Zana's purse was inside on the floor. I have a team heading there now."
"You've been busy," Eve said. "How did you manage to fit in sex?"
"Sex? I don't know what you're talking about. I bet you want coffee." She darted to the AutoChef, then whirled back. "How do you know I had sex? Do you have sex radar?"
"Your shirt's not buttoned right, and you've got a fresh hickey on your neck."
"Damn it." Peabody slapped a hand to the side of her neck. "How bad is it? Why don't you have a mirror in here?"
"Because, let's see, could it be because it's an office? — J.D. Robb

You know, they did let you have that room," I said. "In fact, I think they're assuming you'll use it, as opposed to lingering in strange hallways."
She responded to me with, "Girl, I am bored outta my tits."
"Can we have one cross-country quest without talking about your tits?"
Her pretty dark eyes went narrow and thoughtful, and she caressed her cheek with a long fingernail colored jack-o'-lantern orange. After a thoughtful pause, she shook her head. "I don't
see how."
"I figured. — MaryJanice Davidson

Remember those dogs I was talking about? The cues? While I was watching TV, I missed a few. Take a look:
Steven is smiling, almost laughing. After all the punishment he's received from my sister over the years, he's developed quite the sadistic streak when it comes to other people getting their asses handed to them.
Then there's Matthew. God only knows what kind of sick and depraved penalties Delores has inflicted on that poor bastard, because he just looks scared.
Kate, on the other hand, is staring at my hand like it's a cockroach. That she wants to squash. And then she gets an idea - a wonderful, awful idea. If you look hard enough, you can see the light bulb go on above her head. She smiles and leaves the room.
I missed all this the first time. — Emma Chase

I like to get people talking. I am a provocateur, and I do like getting on Twitter and riling people up. You know what, after a while some sane dialogue and sane conclusions come of that kind of thing. — Roseanne Barr

Now place yourself in the shoes of Clifford Runoalds, another African American victim of the Hearne drug bust.2 You returned home to Bryan, Texas, to attend the funeral of your eighteen-month-old daughter. Before the funeral services begin, the police show up and handcuff you. You beg the officers to let you take one last look at your daughter before she is buried. The police refuse. You are told by prosecutors that you are needed to testify against one of the defendants in a recent drug bust. You deny witnessing any drug transaction; you don't know what they are talking about. Because of your refusal to cooperate, you are indicted on felony charges. After a month of being held in jail, the charges against you are dropped. You are technically free, but as a result of your arrest and period of incarceration, you lose your job, your apartment, your furniture, and your car. Not to mention the chance to say good-bye to your baby girl. This is the War on Drugs. The — Michelle Alexander

I remember talking to someone early on after I was sober about how I suddenly felt awkward at parties. They said, 'Well, you're supposed to. Everyone feels awkward at parties.' It's an appropriate feeling to feel. — Craig Ferguson

Well, if I were you, I'd leave him. I'd find someone with a more normal way of looking at things and live happily ever after. There's no way in hell you can be happy with him. The way he lives, it never crosses his mind to try to make himself happy or to make others happy. Staying with him will only wreck your nervous system. To me, it's already a miracle that you've been with him three years. Of course, I'm very fond of him in my own way. He's fun, and he has lots of great qualities.
He has strengths and abilities that I could never hope to match. But in the end, his ideas about things and the way he lives his life are not normal. Sometimes, when I'm talking to him, I feel as if I'm going
around and around in circles. The same process that takes him higher and higher leaves me going around in circles. It makes me feel so empty! Finally, our very systems are totally different. Do you see what I'm saying? — Haruki Murakami

. . . you've got to do something about her," Aunty was saying. "You've let things go on too long, Atticus, too long." "I don't see any harm in letting her go out there. Cal'd look after her there as well as she does here." Who was the "her" they were talking about? My heart sank: me. I felt the starched walls of a pink cotton penitentiary closing in on me, and for the second time in my life I thought of running away. Immediately. "Atticus, — Harper Lee

Time goes on, and your life is still there, and you have to live it. After a while you remember the good things more often than the bad. Then, gradually, the empty silent parts of you fill up with sounds of talking and laughter again, and the jagged edges of sadness are softened by memories. — Lois Lowry

I had a cup of tea, thought about my day and mostly about the horse whom, though I'd only known him a short time, I called my friend. I have few friends and am glad to have a horse for a friend. After the meal I smoked a cigarette and mused on the luxury it would be to go out, instead of talking to myself and boring myself to death with the same endless stories I'm forever telling myself. I am a very boring person, despite my enormous intelligence and distinguished appearance, and nobody knows this better than I. I've often told myself that if only I were given the opportunity, I'd perhaps become the centre of intellectual society. But by dint of talking to myself so much, I tend to repeat the same things all the time. But what can you expect? I'm a recluse. — Leonora Carrington

In my opinion, visual effects are great when it compliments a good story, and action is great when it compliments a good story, but just to have them for the sake of having them, it gets a little boring, especially if you're talking a TV series. At least with a movie that's an hour and a half to two hours, you see it and you're impressed, and then you're out. With a series, if it's only that, week after week after week, there's nothing there to bring you back. You have to get invested in the characters and care about them and want to follow them. — Drew Roy

Listen.
Dead people never stop talking. Maybe because death is not death at all, just a detention after school. You know where you're coming from and you're always returning from it. You know where you're going though you never seem to get there and you're just dead. Dead. — Marlon James

Gentlemen, you are now about to embark on a course of studies which will occupy you for two years. Together, they form a noble adventure. But I would like to remind you of an important point. Nothing that you will learn in the course of your studies will be of the slightest possible use to you in after life, save only this, that if you work hard and intelligently you should be able to detect when a man is talking rot, and that, in my view, is the main, if not the sole, purpose of education. — John Alexander Smith

I was talking to Coach Wooden after I had signed at UCLA and over the summer, and we used to talk all the time. The thing is, talking to Bill Walton, once you throw in your two cents, he throws in the other 98 cents. He will not stop talking, I'll tell you what. — Kevin Love

I am mean; I'm nasty at times. I don't feel like talking to people at times. When I am in a bad mood and have had a really awful day, don't come in my face because I am not tolerant and I am not a goddess; I can't handle it after a point. I am going to get up, and I am going to scream, and I am going to say bad things to you. — Kajol

I'm really nervous, because it's actually happening. You forget after a while when you start talking about something that it's actually going to happen. — Selena Gomez

It's nice to think people might be talking about it after they've seen it. With some comedies it's a bit 'wham bam thank you ma'am', and then you just go for a pizza. — Alice Lowe

I don't want to talk about it!"
"Fin!" he shouted back. "I'll do the talking. I love you, and by damn I'm not ashamed of it, and you may not have as much baggage as I do, but don't pretend you don't have some with all those losers you attached yourself to."
"Only two!"
"And only two for me, so we're even!"
"Not even close!" They were fifteen feet apart and she was still screaming. "My two were self-centered assholes! Yours were homicidal nutcases!"
"Kenley wasn't homicidal!"
"Close enough. And all I did after my breakups was watch Big Bang reruns and gain five pounds! That's not the same as doing penance for the rest of your life." — Susan Elizabeth Phillips

Christ, he thinks, by my age I ought to know. You don't get on by being original. You don't get on by being bright. You don't get on by being strong. You get on by being a subtle crook; somehow he thinks that's what Norris is, and he feels an irrational dislike taking root, and he tries to dismiss it, because he prefers his dislikes rational, but after all, these circumstances are extreme, the cardinal in the mud, the humiliating tussle to get him back in the saddle, the talking, talking, on the barge, and worse, the talking, talking on his knees, as if Wolsey's unraveling, in a great unweaving of scarlet thread that might lead you back into a scarlet labyrinth, with a dying monster at its heart. — Hilary Mantel

No," I said automatically, "don't do anything about Dad. You can't fix my relationship with him."
"I can block or run interference."
"Thanks, Jack, but I don't need blocking, and I really don't need any more interference."
He looked annoyed. "Well, why did you waste all that time complaining to me if you didn't want me to do something about it?"
"I don't want you to fix my problems. I just wanted you to listen."
"Hang it all, Haven, talk to a girlfriend if all you want is a pair of ears. Guys hate it when you give us a problem and then don't let us do something about it. It makes us feel bad. And then the only way to make ourselves feel better is to rip a phone book in two or blow something up. So let's get this straight - I'm not a good listener. I'm a guy."
"Yes you are." I stood and smiled. "Want to buy me a drink at an after work bar?"
"Now you're talking," my brother said, and we left the office. — Lisa Kleypas

When she was three, I sent her to day care for a couple
of hours every morning. After a few weeks, the teacher
called me and said that she was worried about Lucy. When it
was time for the children to have their milk, Lucy would always
hang back until all the other kids had taken a carton before
she'd take one for herself. The teacher didn't understand. Go
get your milk, she'd say to Lucy, but Lucy would always wait
around until there was just one carton left. It took a while for me
to figure it out. Lucy didn't know which carton was supposed to
be her milk. She thought all the other kids knew which ones
were theirs, and if she waited until there was only one carton in
the box, that one had to be hers. Do you see what I'm talking
about, Uncle Nat? She's a little weird - but intelligent weird, if
you know what I mean. Not like anyone else. If I hadn't used
the wordjust, you would have known where I was all along ... — Paul Auster

I know this much, is all," Franny said. "If you're a poet, you do something beautiful. I mean you're supposed to leave something beautiful after you get off the page and everything. The ones you're talking about don't leave a single, solitary thing beautiful. All that maybe the slightly better ones do is sort of get inside your head and leave something there. — J.D. Salinger

His gaze was a lot steadier than her heartbeat. "She's the reason for those whispered phone calls I used to overhear, isn't she?"
"Don't be silly. I was talking to my lover."
"She told me she lives at a place called Brookdale. After I hung up, I did a little research on the Web. Your talent for obfuscation continues to amaze me."
"Hey, I haven't obfuscated in weeks. Makes you go blind. — Susan Elizabeth Phillips

There's this exhausting energy from you getting your lines out and your words right, especially if it's a complicated scene. And as soon as the camera is off you and goes on the other person, you're talking garbled garbage and you feel so sorry for them because you've lost the will to live, after 18 hours of saying those lines. That's terribly unfair. So, I do love the quick-paced nature of it. — Dominic Cooper

What is the point in talking to people you like when you know you will never going to be someone number one? That you will never be the one? When you know they will get bored of you after a while? Even when you are still smiling at their replies.
I want to make someone feel the way I feel, to live like the world is going to end tomorrow. I want to make someone feel alive. I want to make someone's heart sing and make their eyes shine, when they look at me. I just want someone to believe in me, the way I believe in them ... — Rhyan Roads

I think you're very brave," he whispered. "You're a fire that should burn itself out in five seconds of brilliant combustion. I know what it's like to put forth that much energy, and yet you do it night after night. And nobody - not marquesses nor guardians nor physicians, not the whole weight of society's expectations - can make you stop." She let out a sigh, a trembling sigh that had her lips brushing against his thumb. So much like a kiss. "If people want you to stop talking, or to stop dressing the way you do, or to change who you are, it's because you hurt their eyes. We've all been trained not to stare into the sun. — Courtney Milan

I am still not talking to you," said Liza Hempstock's voice, proud as a peacock and pert as a sparrow. "Actually, you are. I mean, we're talking right now." "Only during this emergency. After that, not a word. — Neil Gaiman

To a reporter after Ray was pounded by Edmonton's Georges Laraque: What are you, the fight doctor now or something? You've never been in a fight in your life, so what are you talking about? — Rob Ray

'Good Morning America' exploited Joan Lunden's pregnancy, but you won't see me bringing my babies on the air. The only reason I'm talking about the babies at all is that they've been with me on the show since I became pregnant. After a while, I had to acknowledge this pumpkin tummy. — Jane Pauley

Making a film, you do need stamina, whether you're doing fight scenes or not. It's important to keep fit. I'm not talking about having perfect abs and stuff, but you've got to be on top of your game, especially if you're playing the lead. You have to look after yourself. — Liam Neeson

I like to play around with people who don't know me. Often I'm talking to people through my speaker phone, and after 10 minutes or so they say, 'Wait a minute, Marlee, how can you hear me?' They forget I have an interpreter there who is signing to me as they talk. So I say, 'You know what? I can hear on Wednesdays.' — Marlee Matlin

Welcome back, Ben," Erica said. I started in surprise before realizing the voice was coming from inside my head. Alexander had slipped a two-way radio into my ear. There were lots of people out and about. The enemy had taken my cell phone, but I put my hand to my ear and pretended to be talking on one anyhow. No one gave me a second glance. Virtually everyone else was on a cell phone themselves. "Can you hear me?" I asked. "Loud and clear," Erica replied. "Where are you?" "Still on campus, looking into things. But I need you to tail someone for me." "Chip?" "No. I think he's clean." "What? But - " "I'll explain later. Right now I need you to go after Tina. She's the mole . . . and she's on the move. — Stuart Gibbs

I am Persephone" she said, her voice thin and papery. "Welcome, demigods.
Nico squashed a pomegranate under his boot. "Welcome? After last time, you've got the nerve to welcome me?"
I shifted uneasily, because talking that way to a god can get you blasted into dust bunnies. "Um, Nico-"
"It's all right," Persephone said coldly. "We had a little family spat."
"Family spat?" Nico cried. "You turned me into a dandelion! — Rick Riordan

The future is built on brains, not prom court, as most people can tell you after attending their high school reunion. But you'd never know it by talking to kids or listening to the messages they get from the culture and even from their schools. — Anna Quindlen