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I glance back at Drew, who is still
eyeing his phone and being awfully quiet. "Seriously, Baylor, I'm about to
confiscate that thing."
He raises a brow at me, and gives me his old, innocent grin - which I am not
falling for. "You really are a mom, aren't you?"
"As I recall, you played the role of Mom. I was Dad."
"Doesn't that mean we're on a date now? And all I get is this lousy dinner?"
Drew leans his arms on the table. "Where are my flowers?"
"I'll make it up to you with sweet talk later. Now answer the question, Battle.
What the hell is up with the phone?"
As if I've activated it, the damn thing lights up, and Drew glances down. He
fights to hide his smile. "What can I say? I'm totally pussy whipped by my wife to
be. That's right, I'm replacing you with Anna. — Kristen Callihan

As a child, I probably knew phrases that other children didn't known, like "pitocin drip" or "myocardial infarction." Some kind of knowledge was always in the air. My parents would always talk about science at the dinner table, saying something about this patient or some other patient. So I guess for a nanosecond in early high school, I thought about going into medicine. — M. Night Shyamalan

In true education, anything that comes to our hand is as good as a book: the prank of a page- boy, the blunder of a servant, a bit of table talk - they are all part of the curriculum. — Michel De Montaigne

In the French culture, they talk politics. I didn't find it was part of our culture to have political arguments at the table. My husband's family will get into major politics, and it's not an aggressive thing. It's so interesting and you learn so much, whether it's Right or Left, and that to me has been really great. — Kim Raver

Table talk and Lovers' talk equally elude the grasp; Lovers' Talk is clouds, Table Talk is smoke.
Les Miserables — Victor Hugo

Just because your electronics are better than ours, you aren't necessarily superior in any way. Look, imagine that you humans are a man in LA with a brand-new Trujillo and we are a nuhp in New York with a beat-up old Ford. The two fellows start driving toward St. Louis. Now, the guy in the Trujillo is doing 120 on the interstates, and the guy in the Ford is putting along at 55; but the human in the Trujillo stops in Vegas and puts all of his gas money down the hole of a blackjack table, and the determined little nuhp cruises along for days until at last he reaches his goal. It's all a matter of superior intellect and the will to succeed.
Your people talk a lot about going to the stars, but you just keep putting your money into other projects, like war and popular music and international athletic events and resurrecting the fashions of previous decades. If you wanted to go into space, you would have. — George Alec Effinger

As a kid I was the youngest member of my family, and the youngest child in any family is always a jokemaker, because a joke is the only way he can enter into an adult conversation. My sister was five years older than I was, my brother was nine years older than I was, and my parents were both talkers. So at the dinner table when I was very young, I was boring to all those other people. They did not want to hear about the dumb childish news of my days. They wanted to talk about really important stuff that happened in high school or maybe in college or at work. So the only way I could get into a conversation was to say something funny. — Kurt Vonnegut Jr.

But common sense comes too late, because Logan is now moving away from the counter and marching in my direction.
"Hey, gorgeous." He slides in the seat across from me and places a chocolate-chip muffin on the table. "I got you a muffin."
Damn it, I guess he'd noticed me right when he'd walked in.
"Why?" I ask in suspicion, and without saying hi.
"'Cause I wanted to get you something, and you already have coffee. Ergo, muffin."
I raise one eyebrow. "Are you trying to buy your way into my good graces?"
"Yup. And excellent pun, by the way."
"I wasn't punning. My name just happens to be a homonym."
His blue eyes gleam as he downright smolders at me. "I love it when you talk homonyms to me."
"Uh-huh. — Elle Kennedy

We have to identify everybody that's here, and there's going to be an appropriate discussion in Congress on how to deal with an individual who has been here maybe for some long period of time. Amnesty is not on the table period. There will be no amnesty in the United States. We're a country of law and the idea that we're going to tell people that somehow or another that that's all forgiven is not going to happen. How we deal with them is a conversation. I don't know if I know all the answers. I want to talk to the American people. — Rick Perry

Teenagers talk about the idea of having each other's 'full attention.' They grew up in a culture of distraction. They remember their parents were on cell phones when they were pushed on swings as toddlers. Now, their parents text at the dinner table and don't look up from their BlackBerry when they come for end-of-school day pickup. — Sherry Turkle

The notion that big business and big labor and big government can sit down around a table somewhere and work out the direction of the American economy is at complete variance with the reality of where the American economy is headed. I mean, it's like dinosaurs gathering to talk about the evolution of a new generation of mammals. — Bruce Babbitt

From the table, far enough away that they thought I couldn't hear, Bintou whispered to Wasa, "I can't believe she talks to him like that!" "I'm going to learn to talk like that!" murmured Wasa. "I can't run about and hit people like Cat does, but I can become an orator like Cousin Bee. I'm going to become a hero and cause trouble all over everywhere!" "Girls! — Kate Elliott

Altogether bad,' the host concluded. 'As you will, but there's something not nice hidden in men who avoid wine, games, the society of charming women, table talk. Such people are either gravely ill or secretly hate everybody around them. True, there may be exceptions. Among persons sitting down with me at the banqueting table, there have been on occasion some extraordinary scoundrels! ... And so, let me hear your business. — Mikhail Bulgakov

Oh, thank the gods. Now I can talk to someone about clothes without being asked how so-and-so would approve of it, or gobble down a box of chocolates without someone telling me I'd better watch my figure - tell me you like chocolates. You do, right? I remember stealing a box from your room once when you were out killing someone. They were delicious." Aelin waved a hand toward the boxes of goodies on the table. "You brought chocolate - as far as I'm concerned, you're my new favorite person." Lysandra — Sarah J. Maas

And it was funny. The silence of him had a bizarre effect on her. Normally, she was the quiet one in situations, preferring to keep her own council and not share her thoughts on anything. But with John's mute presence, she felt curiously compelled to talk.
"I'm stuffed," she said, lying back against the pillows. As he cocked a brow and lifted the last Danish, she shook her head.
"God ... no. I couldn't manage another thing."
And it was only then that he began to eat.
"You waited for me ?" she said, frowning. When he ducked her gaze and shrugged, she cursed softly.
" You didn't have to."
Another shrug. As she watched him, she murmured, "You have beautiful table manners."
His blush was the color of Valentine's Day and she had to tell her heart to calm the fuck down as it started to beat fast. — J.R. Ward

When you sit down around the table, it's a great time to catch up and share and talk about the day, and I think that can keep families connected and together. — Kimberly Schlapman

And people talk about the stimulus package and the jobs that it was supposed to create, it certainly didn't have the intended effects that everybody was hoping for or that the president and administration certainly was hoping for. So I think it's time to lay some new solutions on the table, some new ideas. — Kristi Noem

We don't really have any that protect the food supply from farm to table. We have a food safety system that's piecemeal, largely divided between two agencies that don't talk to each other very much. Neither agency can enforce regulations from the farm to the table. — Marion Nestle

You willingly tie yourself to these leashes. And you willingly become utterly socially autistic. You no longer pick up on basic human communication clues. You're at a table with three humans, all of whom are looking at you and trying to talk to you, and you're staring at a screen, — Dave Eggers

I go to farmers' markets all the time. Field-to-table is so my thing. But none of the herbs at any of them comes close to island herbs. Those herbs make Quinnie food- well, those herbs and freshness. Quinnipeague was growing organic and cooking local before farm-to-table was a movement, but, still, we think of the herbs first. I can't write about island cooking without talking about them, but I can't not talk about the people, either. That's where you come in, Charlotte. You've eaten Dorey Jewett's lobster stew and Mary Landry's clam fritters, and you always loved the fruit compote that Bonnie Stroud brought to the Fourth of July dinner each year. These people are all still around. Each has a story. I want to include some in the book, but I'm better at writing about food than people. — Barbara Delinsky

When the meat platter was passed to me, I didn't even know what the meat was; usually, you couldn't tell, anyway-but it was suddenly as though _don't eat any more pork_ flashed on a screen before me.
I hesitated, with the platter in mid-air; then I passed it along to the inmate waiting next to me. He began serving himself; abruptly, he stopped. I remember him turning, looking surprised at me.
I said to him, "I don't eat pork."
The platter then kept on down the table.
It was the funniest thing, the reaction, and the way that it spread. In prison, where so little breaks the monotonous routine, the smallest thing causes a commotion of talk. It was being mentioned all over the cell block by night that Satan didn't eat pork. — Malcolm X

I was spending three days literally just kibitzing with Jack Nicholson at a table! It was heaven! And talk about a normal guy. My God, he was just so real and cool and relaxed and fun. And he was a great performer. He's such an actor. He really was so focused on every moment. It was great. — Peter Jacobson

I, like a lot of people who are creative, need to step away. I can't have stuff to write about if I don't have a life. If I talk to people, hang out with my friends and hang out with my husband, I feel like I have better things to bring to the table. — Carrie Underwood

But I took a deep breath, and she sat there listening to me across my dirty coffee table, and we talked about community and family and authenticity. It's easy to talk about it, and really, really hard sometimes to practice it. This is why the door stays closed for so many of us, literally and figuratively. One friend promises she'll start having people over when they finally have money to remodel. Another says she'd be too nervous that people wouldn't eat the food she made, so she never makes the invitation. But it isn't about perfection, and it isn't about performance. You'll miss the richest moments in life - the sacred moments when we feel God's grace and presence through the actual faces and hands of the people we love - if you're too scared or too ashamed to open the door. I know it's scary, but throw open the door anyway, even though someone might see you in your terribly ugly half-zip. — Shauna Niequist

I am dropping my keys on the table inside the door before I fully remember. There is no one to hear this news, nowhere to go with the unmade plan, the uncompleted thought. There is no one to agree, disagree, talk back. "I think I am beginning to understand why grief feels like suspense," C. S. Lewis wrote after the death of his wife. "It comes from the frustration of so many impulses that had become habitual. Thought after thought, feeling after feeling, action after action, had H. for their object. Now their target is gone. I keep on through habit fitting an arrow to the string, then I remember and have to lay the bow down. So many roads lead thought to H. I set out on one of them. But now there's an impassable frontierpost across it. So many roads once; now so many cul de sacs." We — Joan Didion

him. I also recall the great poster for Ana Christie with Greta Garbo, based on a Eugene O'Neill play. 'Garbo Talks' it said. In that film, a series of inns were shown to stimulate our expectations, then there was mist, then a horse in the mist, then finally a woman arrived from Sweden and walked across the stage. Ferrari. Was it Greta Garbo? Borges. Yes, she arrived at the bar and slowly strolled past a very long table. We all expected her to talk - we were waiting to hear Greta Garbo's voice, her never-heard-before voice. What we did hear was a hoarse voice that said, 'Give me a whisky.' It made us shiver with emotion. That was her first talkie. — Jorge Luis Borges

Gogol is unaccustomed to this sort of talk at mealtimes, to the indulgent ritual of the lingering meal, and the pleasant aftermath of bottles and crumbs and empty glasses that clutter the table. — Jhumpa Lahiri

Right then, Mel came into the bar, hung her jacket on the peg inside the door and jumped up on a stool in front of her husband, elbows on the bar, leaning toward him for a kiss. "Holy shit," one of the men said. "Look at that one. Talk about a doe I'd like to bag." Jack straightened before meeting his wife's lips. The look on his face wasn't a pretty one. "You know," Mike said, laughing uncomfortably, "about our women. You boys don't want to be giving the women around here any trouble. Trust me on this, okay?" That set up a round of hilarious laughter at the table of hunters and one of them said, unfortunately too loudly, "Maybe the girl wants to get bagged. I think we should at least ask her!" But oops - glancing over his shoulder, Mike saw Jack had heard that. And probably so had Mel. And after what those two had been through earlier in the summer, comments like that were not taken lightly. And — Robyn Carr

It's like being at the kids' table at Thanksgiving - you can put your elbows on it, you don't have to talk politics ... no matter how old I get, there's always a part of me that's sitting there. — John Hughes

Mary Jane she set at the head of the table, with Susan alongside of her, and said how bad the biscuits was, and how mean the preserves was, and how ornery and tough the fried chickens was - and all that kind of rot, the way women always do for to force out compliments; and the people all knowed everything was tiptop, and said so - said 'How do you get biscuits to brown so nice?' and 'Where, for the land's sake, did you get these amaz'n pickles?' and all that kind of humbug talky-talk, just the way people always does at a supper, you know. — Mark Twain

Let's get you into a room and conduct our own chemistry experiment," he said against my lips.
"Or maybe we'll just find a table to bend you over, since chemists do it on a table ... periodically."
"Mmm. I love it when you talk nerdy to me. — Cindi Madsen

You meditate and then you can put on your pajamas, or you can imagine you're wearing your pajamas, and you talk about your piece of writing in the language you would use if you were wearing your pajamas and you were seated at a table with your very good friend. And you wouldn't have to get all dressed up or clean up the table. — Sandra Cisneros

Don't blame me," Jason protested. "All I did was ask an innocent question. I'm not the one telling Gwen she has to get out."
"I said that's enough!" Frank smacked the table hard. "We're not going to talk about it anymore, and we're not going to hand out blame. Is that clear, Jason? If Gwen can handle this in a mature way, there's no reason for you to raise the roof."
Now they were both looking at Gwen, waiting for her to show how mature she was. "I think," she began. "I think--" She swallowed hard. "I think I'm going to be sick." With a hand pressed over her mouth, she dashed out of the room and up the stairs, making it to the bathroom just in time.
Afterward, she sat on the bathroom floor and leaned against the old-fashioned footed tub. Three people out of five, she thought wryly. It would be laughable, the way she and Dena and Tessie had leaped up and run, one after the other, if it weren't so sad. — Betty Ren Wright

I always have a ping-pong table in the studio. If you're with an artist and you notice the situation is going south a little bit, it's like, 'You wanna play ping-pong or foosball?' Or, 'You wanna go grab somethin' to eat?' And then you just like talk to them and relax them and get them comfortable and get yourself comfortable. — Benny Blanco

Yes, I get dry spells. Sometimes I can't turn out a thing for three months. When one of those spells comes on I quit trying to work and go out and see something of life. You can't write a story that's got any life in it by sitting at a writing table and thinking. You've got to get out into the streets, into the crowds, talk with people, and feel the rush and throb of real life-that's the stimulant for a story writer. — O. Henry

If we talk about the glass being half empty or half full, I want to know what does the glass look like from underneath the table? — Brad Thor

I imagined two leather chairs near a fire in a paneled room, where two old soldiers could drink and talk. But she took us into the kitchen. She had put two straight-backed chairs at a kitchen table with a white porcelain top. That table top was screaming with reflected light from a two-hundred-watt bulb overhead. Mary had prepared an operating room. — Kurt Vonnegut Jr.

We want to gently remind people that we don't have forever. In my work, I hear parents complain all the time that their children grow up so fast. But they don't take the time to sit down and talk to each other. The last bastion of getting together is around the table. — Leo Buscaglia

I do have a tendency to talk a lot at the poker table, which throws people off because they spend a lot of time trying to read me. But I talk a lot when I have a good hand and when I have a bad hand, too. Sometimes it annoys people so much they can't wait to get out of the tournament. And that can only be good for me. — Cheryl Hines

Basil Stag Hare tut-tutted severely as he remarked to Ambrose Spike, 'Tch, tch. Dreadful table manners. Just look at those three wallahs, kicking up a hullaballoo like that! Eating's a serious business. — Brian Jacques

I had never been to Texas. I'd been through Texas, but I'm so glad to be back in a place that's not L.A. or New York. To talk about Dallas, to talk about there being sweet tea on the catering table, it's rich and saturated in American-ness. — Kelli Giddish

When I was in fourth grade, a novelist came to talk to my English class. She told us that being an author meant sitting at the kitchen table in pajamas, drinking tea with the dogs at your feet. — J. Courtney Sullivan

The dining room in my old house was truly magnificent, but by far the worst room for conversation. I'd get up from the table, a very long table, and somebody would always say, Paul, I never got to talk to you. — Paul Lynde

The red haired waitress arrived with their drinks, dancing about the table as she placed their orders in front of them. "Hiya, keeds. Peachy place, ain't it?" Before anyone could respond, she kicked her heels in the air and flitted off again.
Waldo lit up a cigarette and tasted his drink. "Listen, I don't think we ought to stay here very long...."
"No shit, Sherlock!" Brisbane chortled. "But first I want to have a little fun. I think I'm gonna talk to some of these guys."
The fredneck left the table and walked over to a group of five men, all of them clad in the old baseball uniforms that were apparently quite popular at The One Year Wonder And All-Around Oddity Bar. They were huddled together on one side of the bar, and Brisbane broke into their conversation with a burst of fredneck chutzpah. — Donald Jeffries

If you want to fight a war on drugs, sit down at your own kitchen table and talk to your own children. — Barry McCaffrey

People talk about songwriting or comedy as creative expression, but life is creative expression. Table-making, even nursing, is extraordinarily creative. — John Darnielle

At the men's end of the table the talk grew more and more animated. The colonel told them that the declaration of war had already appeared in Petersburg and that a copy, which he had himself seen, had that day been forwarded by courier to the commander in chief. — Leo Tolstoy

I stopped trying to chase the perfect place to be, and realized the perfect place is with your loved ones and your closest friends, around the dinner table, over a good meal, talking about the past year and the year to come and things that you want to change in your life. You hear their stories and talk about things you'd like to see happen in the world. That's what we do. — Hilary Swank

Headache!" Zeus bellowed. "Bad. bad headache!"
As if to prove his point, the lord of the universe slammed his face into his pancakes, which demolished the pancakes and the plate and put a crack in the table, but did nothing for his headache.
"Aspirin?" Apollo suggested. (he was the god of healing)
"Nice cup og tea?" Hestia suggested
"I could split your skull open," offered Hephaestus, the blacksmith god
"Hephaestus!" Hera cried. "Don't talk to your father that way!"
"What?" Hephaestus demanded "Clearly he's got a problem in there. I could open up the hood and take a look. Might relieve the pressure. Besides, he's immortal. It won't kill him — Rick Riordan

These are my cards on the table. I think you're beautiful. I feel like I'm an idiot with dirt on his face sitting next to someone out of a painting. I think...I think I'm just plain stupid for you. I know that's not exactly sweet talk out of a play. Frankly, I'd kiss your shadow. I'd kiss dirt that had your heel print on it. I like feeling this way. I don't give a damn what you or anyone else thinks...this is how it feels every time I look at you. — Scott Lynch

She could easily have remarked on the heavy skiing weather, or asked how he could even see the road, or complained about the town not getting its ploughs out
anything at all to show interest or pretend to show interest, the way people talk to make things a little more pleasant
but no, not Katri Kling. There she stood squinting through her cigarette smoke, her black hair like a mane shrouding her face as she leaned over the table. — Tove Jansson

I believe that one of the most damning things about our culture is the adage to never talk religion and politics. Because we don't model this discourse at the dinner table and at Thanksgiving, we don't know how to do it well and we're not teaching our children about the world and about how to discuss it. — Julianna Baggott

My parents were the traditional Filipino parents who didn't talk about money around the dinner table. — Bo Sanchez

I left them to it, the pointing of fingers on maps, the tracing of mountain villages, the tracks and contours on maps of larger scale, and basked for the one evening allowed to me in the casual, happy atmosphere of the taverna where we dined. I enjoyed poking my finger in a pan and choosing my own piece of lamb. I liked the chatter and the laughter from neighbouring tables. The gay intensity of talk - none of which I could understand, naturally - reminded me of left-bank Paris. A man from one table would suddenly rise to his feet and stroll over to another, discussion would follow, argument at heat perhaps swiftly dissolving into laughter. This, I thought to myself, has been happening through the centuries under this same sky, in the warm air with a bite to it, the sap drink pungent as the sap running through the veins of these Greeks, witty and cynical as Aristophanes himself, in the shadow, unmoved, inviolate, of Athene's Parthenon. ("The Chamois") — Daphne Du Maurier

That was when I left her and went outside to talk to Charles. I knew I would dislike talking to Charles, but it was almost too late to ask him politely and I thought I should ask him once. Even the garden had become a strange landscape with Charles' figure in it; I could see him standing under the apple trees and the trees were crooked and shortened beside him. I came out the kitchen door and walked slowly toward him. I was trying to think charitably of him, since I would never be able to speak kindly until I did, but whenever I thought of his big white face grinning at me across the table or watching me whenever I moved I wanted to beat at him until he went away, I wanted to stamp on him after he was dead, and see him lying dead on the grass. So I made my mind charitable toward Charles and came up to him slowly. — Shirley Jackson

You don't know. You've never been married and divorced. Everything is insurmountable when you're married. The fact that you want to talk at the breakfast table and he insists on reading his paper is insurmountable. Leaving the seat up on the toilet is insurmountable. Getting peanut butter in the jelly jar is insurmountable. People don't change just because they're married. All those little habits and personality quirks that you previously thought were trivial become the bane of your existence. And the major problems, like different outlooks on life, are crushing. — Janet Evanovich

On 'Idol,' Steven Tyler will be sitting at a table with two other judges, and part of his job will be keeping his yap zipped while they talk. This makes no sense at all, since Tyler has zero yap-zipping skills. — Rob Sheffield

They couldn't talk. They were not good talkers, either of them. And once, long ago now, she had bought a notebook for a course. It lay empty and forgotten on the kitchen table until one afternoon, when she had gone out to the shops and he was worried that she would be killed by a bus or by lightning, he opened the notebook and he wrote lines about how he loved her, the way he loved her, about his fucking heart and crap like that, about his body brimful and his scrambled head. All that. She came back from the shops. He left the notebook where it was, and he didn't mention it. And it wasn't until about a week later that he noticed it again, and he flicked it open, and he saw his lines followed by lines from her. She'd written words that she had never said. He sat down. He read them over and over for a long time. Then he wrote a paragraph for her to find. — Keith Ridgway