I Asked You Not To Say Anything Quotes & Sayings

I'm frequently asked, "Do you believe there's extraterrestrial intelligence?" I give the standard arguments- there are a lot of places out there, the molecules of life are everywhere, I use the word billions, and so on. Then I say it would be astonishing to me if there weren't extraterrestrial intelligence, but of course there is as yet no compelling evidence for it.
Often, I'm asked next, "What do you really think?"
I say, "I just told you what I really think."
"Yes, but what's your gut feeling?"
But I try not to think with my gut. If I'm serious about understanding the world, thinking with anything besides my brain, as tempting as that might be, is likely to get me into trouble. Really, it's okay to reserve judgment until the evidence is in. — Carl Sagan

So you can sense her aura and stuff, right?" Kail asked as he got to his feet. "So anything I say about her not being a unicorn-- — Patrick Weekes

A few minutes after discovering we had a goal but no plan, Brent was laughing heartily at a pathetic joke I had made. It reminded me of the first
day on campus when I had thought his laughter sounded like a melody. It did now, even more so. It was music, beautiful, in a manly way, like a
sensual, slow jazz. I loved jazz.
"Jazz, huh?" Brent asked, his voice suddenly husky.
"Uh ... what?"
"My laugh reminds you of jazz? Is there anything about me you don't find attractive?" He rubbed his hand over his lips trying to cover his smirk.
"So tell me, how much do you love jazz?"
I'm sure my face was pinker than the inside of a watermelon. "I didn't say any of that."
"You didn't have to say it, Yara, I could hear it." Brent tapped the side of his head. "I can hear your thoughts."
"You're not serious."
"Oh, but I am," he said, completely straight-faced. — Lani Woodland

I just asked her if she'd seen anything odd, and she started to say-"
"Oh - that - that's nothing to do with the Chamber of Secrets," said Percy at once.
"How do you know?" said Ron, his eyebrows raised.
"Well, er, if you must know, Ginny, er, walked in on me the other day when I was - well, never mind - the point is, she spotted me doing something and I, um, I asked her not to mention it to anybody. I must say, I did think she'd keep her word. It's nothing, really, I'd just rather
"
Harry had never seen Percy look so uncomfortable. — J.K. Rowling

I drank some too-hot coffee and scowled at him, annoyed although I couldn't remember why. The light from the lounge was leaking in, highlighting his spiky blond hair. I decided that must be it.
"You really hate my hair, don't you?" he asked, a smile flickering over his lips so fast I might have imagined it.
"Yeah"
"Why?"
I reached out to touch it, and was surprised as always to find it mostly soft. Just a little stiff in places from whatever product he used on it. It felt weird, imagining Pritkin having anything in his hair but sweat. But he must have; nobody's did that all on its own.
"It's like ... angry hair," I said, trying to pat it down and failing miserably.
He caught my wrist. "Most people would say that suits me."
"I'm not most people."
"I know. — Karen Chance

Why did you tell me it was just a kiss?" she asked, waiting for her voice to break. "I don't even care about that other girl. I mean, I do, but not as much. Why was your first instinct to tell me that what happened between you and me didn't matter? And why should I believe you now when you say that it did? Why should I believe anything you say? — Rainbow Rowell

[Howard Roark] was asked for a statement, and he received a group of reporters in his office. He spoke without anger. He said:
'I can't tell anyone anything about my building. If I prepared a hash of words to stuff into other people's brains, it would be an insult to them and to me. But I am glad you came here. I do have something to say. I want to ask every man who is interested in this to go and see the building, to look at it and then to use words of his own mind, if he cares to speak.'
The Banner printed the interview as follows:
'Mr. Roark, who seems to be a publicity hound, received reporters with an air of swaggering insolence and stated that the public mind was hash. He did not choose to talk, but seemed well aware of the advertising angles of the situation. All he cared about, he explained, was to have his building seen by as many people as possible. — Ayn Rand

They say that the British cannot fix anything properly without a dinner, but I'm sure the Americans can fix nothing without a drink. If you meet, you drink; if you part, you drink; if you make acquaintance, you drink; if you close a bargain, you drink; they quarrel in their drink, and they make it up with a drink. They drink, because it is hot; they drink, because it is cold. If successful in elections, they drink and rejoice; if not, they drink and swear; - they begin to drink early in the morning, they leave off late at night; they commence it early in life, and they continue it, until they soon drop into the grave. To use their own expression, the way they drink is "quite a caution." As for water, what the man said, when asked to belong to the Temperance Society, appears to be the general opinion: "it's very good for navigation. — Frederick Marryat

Could you try not aiming so much?" he asked me, still standing there. "If you hit him when you aim, it'll just be luck." He was speaking, communicating, and yet not breaking the spell. I then broke it. Quite deliberately. "How can it be luck if I aim?" I said back to him, not loud (despite the italics) but with rather more irritation in my voice than I was actually feeling. He didn't say anything for a moment but simply stood balanced on the curb, looking at me, I knew imperfectly, with love. "Because it will be," he said. "You'll be glad if you hit his marble - Ira's marble - won't you? Won't you be glad? And if you're glad when you hit somebody's marble, then you sort of secretly didn't expect too much to do it. So there'd have to be some luck in it, there'd have to be slightly quite a lot of accident in it. — J.D. Salinger

What's possible?" - she asked "Anything," he said absently. "But that's not what I was talking about. Oh, hello, Claire. You're in good time. I need an extra pair of hands." "As long as I keep them attached," she said, which earned her a startled stare. "The things you say to me, you'd think I was some sort of monster."
Myrnin and Claire — Rachel Caine

Will you keep this?" he asked, holding up the pendant. "Please. Don't show it to your folks. But keep it, please. I'm not asking for anything else. You're going away. God knows when I'll see you again. I can accept what you say about your feelings for me. I have to. But what harm will it do if you take this, and then at least, I'll know that something I got for you is with you. — Howard Fast

What is it you're interested in exactly?" the man asked
slowly. "Just the color?"
"I think we both know," said Adrian cunningly. "I want the
color. I want the 'bonus effects.' And I want it to look
badass. You probably can't even do the design I want."
"That's the least of your worries," said the guy. "I've been
doing this for years. I can draw anything you want."
"Yeah? Can you draw a skeleton riding a motorcycle with
flames coming out of it? And I want a pirate hat on the
skeleton. And a parrot on his shoulder. A skeleton parrot.
Or maybe a ninja skeleton parrot? No, that would be
overkill. But it'd be cool if the biker skeleton could be
shooting some ninja throwing stars. That are on fire."
"That's the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard," said the
tattooist.
"That's not what the ladies are going to say," said Adrian — Richelle Mead

The star we're looking for isn't so very friendly," said Moomintroll. "Quite the contrary, in fact."
"What did you say?" said Sniff.
Moomintroll went a bit red. "I mean
stars in general," he said, "big and small, friendly and unfriendly, and so on."
"Can they be unfriendly?" asked Snufkin.
"Yes
ones with tails," answered Moomintroll. "Comets."
At last it dawned on Sniff. "You're hiding something from me!" he said accusingly. "That pattern we saw everywhere, and you said it didn't mean anything!"
"You're too small to be told everything," answered Moomintroll.
"Too small!" screamed Sniff. "I must say it's a fine thing to take me on an expedition of discovery and not tell me what I'm supposed to be discovering! — Tove Jansson

Is it a very wicked place?" I asked, more for the sake of saying something than for information.
"You may get cheated, robbed, and murdered in London. But there are plenty of people anywhere, who'll do that for you."
"If there is bad blood between you and them," said I, to soften it off a little.
"O! I don't know about bad blood," returned Mr. Wemmick; "there's not much bad blood about. They'll do it, if there's anything to be got by it."
"That makes it worse."
"You think so?" returned Mr. Wemmick. "Much about the same, I should say. — Charles Dickens

Either way, excitement hummed through me as we headed out to the garage. I'd never seen an exorcism before. This should prove interesting.
"Can I yell 'By the power of Christ, I compel you' whenever we get to that point?" I asked.
"What?" Zayne laughed as he opened my passenger door. "Hate to break it to you, but we don't have to say a word and no one will be yelling anything like that."
I pouted. Dammit, I'd always wanted to say that. "Well, that's not nearly as entertaining as the exorcisms I've seen on TV. — Jennifer L. Armentrout

He ain't a Coot not really," said Bill. "He ain't got a head on him no better'n a squashed frog. I see him all right but he don't know nothing. Fishing he were on the gravel reach."
"Catching anything?" asked Pete, who, detective or no detective, was still a fisherman.
"Perch," said Bill.
"Oh, never mind the fish," said Dorothea. "Had any boats been cast off?"
"He tell me to keep my shadow off the water," said Bill. "So I creep up and give him one of my sandwiches and when I ask if any boats been cast off, why Tommy he say 'How do you know?' "
"Go on. Go on," said Dorothea, reaching out for one of the little black paper flags all ready on its pin.
"I say I don't know but I want to know and Tommy he say it weren't his fault and I say when were it and what boat and Tommy he said it were his Dad's row-boat and he give it Tommy to tie up and Tommy he tie it to a stick what broke and he have to go in swimming to catch it. — Arthur Ransome

Someone asked me, "What do you have to say about Rajneesh after his death?" I said that the world has never seen such a pimp nor will it ever see one in the future. He combined Western therapies, the Tantric system, and everything that you could find in the books. He made a big business out of it. He took money from the boys; he took money from girls, and kept it for himself. He is dead and so we don't say anything. Nil nisi bonum (Of the dead speak not unless it be good) — U.G. Krishnamurti

Where's tomorrow?'
That is what she has asked me.
When children cry, you talk to them about tomorrow. If they hurt themselves and are inconsolable, even though you pick them up, then you tell them where they are going tomorrow, who they are going to visit. You move their awareness on a day, away from their tears. You introduce time into their lives.
The woman has the knack of doing it gently, somehow. Without promising anything specific, without trying to deny the pain, tenderly she draw the child with her into the future. as if to say, we all have to learn about time. They even so it is possible to grow up without being damaged.
...
I knew what she meant. She had grasped the concept of changes in space, that places are different, also from each other. Now time had been introduced into her life, but she could not grasp it. So she tried to explain it in terms of space, which she had grasped. — Peter Hoeg

We made love for a long time, and he whispered how much he'd missed me, and how beautiful I was, and how lucky he felt that we were together. And though I felt all those things, no words came out of my mouth. The feel of his body was taking my breath away, but that wasn't the reason I didn't say anything. At this moment, I felt as if I was in a dream, and I never wanted it to end. I wanted to feel him and touch him and hear him breathe and look in his eyes, and there wasn't one word I could say thatwouldn't take away from the overwhelming sense of passion I was feeling at this very moment. "Are you okay?" Drew asked me. "Yeah, why?" I whispered. "Because you're crying," he said, wiping tears from my eyes. "No, I'm not." He gave me a gentle smile. "Yes, you are. Tell me why." I looked into his eyes so directly that I almost felt like I was trying to look into his soul. And then I whispered, "I love you," and I realized that for the first time in my life, I actually meant it. — Jackie Pilossoph

When I didn't say anything, he came closer, dropping slowly to his haunches so we were at eye level. My eyes searched his gorgeous face and for once, I wished I could break my own damn rules. I had a feeling Braden would be able to make me forget everything for a while.
We gazed at one another for what seemed like forever, not saying a word. I was expecting a lot of questions since it must have been clear to everyone, or at least the adults at the table, that I had had a panic attack. Surely, they were all wondering why, and I really didn't want to go back out there.
"Better?" Braden finally asked softly.
Wait. Was that it? No probing questions?
"Yeah." No, not really.
He must have read my reaction to his question in my face because he cocked his head to the side, his gaze thoughtful. "You don't need to tell me."
I cracked a humorless smile. "I'll just let you think I'm bat-shit crazy."
Braden smiled back at me. "I already know that. — Samantha Young

I haven't said anything about your novel yet,' he said, taking a seat on the other side of the table. 'But it made an indelible impression on me. I was deeply shaken after reading it.'
'Why's that?' I asked.
'Because you went so far. You went so unbelievably far. I was glad you did, I was sitting here, smiling, because you had brought it off. When we met you wanted to be a writer. No one else had had the idea. Only you. And then you achieved it. But that wasn't why I was shaken. It was because you went so far. Do you really have to go that far, I thought at the time. And it was frightening. Speaking for myself, I can't go that far.'
'What do you mean? How do you mean I went so far? It's just a standard novel.'
'You say things about yourself it's unheard of to say. Not least the story of the thirteen-year-old. I'd never have thought you would dare. — Karl Ove Knausgard

Did I say thank you?" Michael asked as we ducked into Liam's office. "If not, thank you." He raised our joined hands to his lips and kissed the inside of my wrist.
"I can't remember." I couldn't remember anything. Hello, erogenous zone. "And you're welcome." He just grinned.
Still holding hands, we stepped into the veil. — Myra McEntire

Please-tame me!' he said.
'I want to, very much,' the little prince replied. 'But I have not much time. I have friends to discover, and a great many things to understand.'
'One only understands the things that one tames,' said the fox. 'Men have no more time to understand anything. They buy things all ready made at the shops. But there is no shop anywhere where one can buy friendship, and so men have no friends any more. If you want a friend, tame me.'
'What must I do, to tame you?' asked the little prince.
'You must be very patient,' replied the fox. 'First you will sit down at a little distance from me-like that-in the grass. I shall look at you out of the corner of my eye, and you will say nothing. Words are the source of misunderstandings. But you will sit a little closer to me, every day ... — Antoine De Saint-Exupery

March 4 CHARITY is being rescued by the LORD I love you just as the Father loves me. ~ John 15:9 Someone asked an old chief "Why're you always talking about Jesus?" The chief didn't say anything. Instead, he collected some dry grass and twigs and put them into a circle. Next he caught a caterpillar, feeding on a nearby clump of weeds. He placed it inside the circle. Then, he took a match and set fire to the dry grass and the twigs. As the fire blazed up, the caterpillar began to search for an escape. At this point the old chief extended his finger to the caterpillar. Instantly, it climbed on to it. He said, "That's what Jesus did for me. I was like the caterpillar, without hope. Then Jesus rescued me. How can I not talk about my Savior's love and mercy?" ~ Mark Link, S.J. How grateful are you for what Jesus did for us? How do you show it concretely? It wasn't the nails that held Jesus on the cross but his love for us. ~ Author unknown — Scott Hahn

I asked you not to train that horse," Christopher snapped, "and you agreed."
Beatrix felt instantly defensive. She was accustomed to doing as she pleased. This was certainly not the first time she'd ever fallen from a horse, nor the last.
"You didn't ask that specifically," she said reasonably, "you asked me not to do anything dangerous. And in my opinion, it wasn't."
Instead of calming Christopher, that seemed to enrage him even further. "In light of the fact that you were nearly flattened like a pikelet just now, I'd say you were wrong."
Beatrix was intent on winning the argument. "Well, it doesn't matter in any case, because the promise I made was for after we married. And we're not married yet."
Leo covered his eyes with his hand, shook his head, and retreated from her vision. — Lisa Kleypas

We know they've got food here," Loran said ever practical. "What more do we need?"

"Well, as much as I heartily approve of food," Jason replied, glancing over at Loran. "I wouldn't say no to the odd cellium mine or cache of alien tech."

"You're picking up some alien tech?" Tennant asked excitedly, practically bouncing at the prospect. "Are there any weapons?"

"No, of course not," Jason snapped in exasperation. "I'm not picking up anything. But, ahh... I'll be sure to keep running that particular scan - the alien weapon scan," he added hurriedly in appeasement as Tennant's face dropped. — Claire Russett

Lottie strode to the center of the study and stared at Gentry expectantly. She made her manner brisk. "When shall we leave?"
Gentry emerged from the corner. She saw from the flicker in his eyes that he had half-expected her to change her mind after speaking with Westcliff. Now that her choice had been reaffirmed, there was no turning back.
"Now," he said softly.
Her lips parted in the beginnings of an objection. Gentry intended to sweep her away without allowing any opportunity to say good-bye to anyone in the household, not even Lady Westcliff. On the other hand, it would be easier for her to simply disappear without having to explain anything to anyone. "Isn't it rather dangerous to travel at night?" she asked, then quickly answered her own question. "Never mind. If we met with a highwayman, I would probably be safer with him than you."
Gentry grinned suddenly. "You may be right."
-Lottie & Nick — Lisa Kleypas

This is one of the most serious problems with seeker-sensitive churches. I was talking to a pastor at a seeker-friendly church not long ago about his idea that prospective Christians needed to "feel welcome" and "accepted" before anything else: no "threats," no "judgmental baggage." I asked, "If you had a person living in sin come to your church, would you confront him?" He furrowed his brow and shook his head disapprovingly. "Oh, no! We'd want him to feel loved and welcome." My eyes widened. "How long would it be before you would actually say something about that?" "Maybe a year and a half, two years," he said, smiling. "Because then he would really feel a part of things." That was shocking to me. Is there some virtue in leaving a man in his sin for the sake of feeling accepted? "Well, that's the difference between your church and our church," I said finally. "Openly practicing sinners come to our church, and they either get saved or they don't come back. — John F. MacArthur Jr.

Harley told me that you guys were having a bit of trouble, but he seemed to think it was all his fault. So maybe I could bring him over and give him a chance to apologize? I know he loves you, Shawn. If there's anything I can do to get you guys back together, then I'll do it."
"He doesn't need to apologize," I burst out. "I'm the doofus in our relationship. I need to get on my knees and say I'm sorry by sucking him off until his brain comes out his dick. Not that I keep a strict count or anything, but I owe him about twenty-three."
There was a little pause in the conversation as we looked at each other, and I realized I had overshared. With my lover's father. I winced.
"TMI?" I asked tentatively.
He swallowed visibly. "Just a bit."
"Sorry."
"No. Don't sweat it. I'll just focus on the fact that my boy has a healthy sexual relationship and leave the other images behind." I couldn't be sure, but I think he was trying not to laugh. I get that a lot. — Renae Kaye

What are you doing here, Luce?" he asked, studying me.
"Watching you play," I answered, knowing it wasan't one he'd accept.
"Yeah," he said, making a face. "That's not going to work for me."
Of course it wasn't.
"You know why," I added with a whisper.
"I need to hear you say it," he said, swallowing. "I've gone too many days without hearing it."
Sighing, I closed my eyes. "I love you," I said, knowing it was the truth and that it didn't change anything. "And I missed you."
"Yeah," he said, "me too. — Nicole Williams

dinner." Philip leaned toward her. "May I tell you to-morrow why I came?" he asked. "I think not," replied Elnora. "The fact is, I don't care why you came. It is enough for me that we are your very good friends, and that in trouble, you have found us a refuge. I fancy we had better live a week or two before you say anything. There is a possibility that what you have to say may change in that length of time. — Gene Stratton-Porter

I think ghostliness is a good quality. I pretend I'm dead all the time."
"What?" He stopped rummaging through his locker to look at me full in the face a last.
"It helps me go to sleep," I said.
"That shows you don't know anything about death," Jonah said.
"Do you?" I asked.
He hesitated before saying "I'm a g-g-g-ghost, aren't I?"
"I think being dead might be nice. Restful."
"Death is not restful. It's nothing."
"That's what seems restful to me," I said. "The nothing. Not being here. Not being anywhere. — Natalie Standiford

You have no reason to be sorry for anything, ma petite."
Her clenched fist lay over his heart, the three diamonds in her palm. "You think I can't read your body? Feel the heaviness in your mind as you try to shield me? I can't change who I am, not even for you. I know I'm failing you, causing you discomfort."
A slow smile curved his mouth. Discomfort. Now,there was a word for it. His hand crushed her hair, ran it through his fingers. "I have never asked you to change, nor would I want you to. You seem to forget that I know you better than anyone. I can handle you."
She turned her head so that he could see the silver stars flashing in her blue eyes, a smoldering warning. "You are so arrogant,Gregori, it makes me want to throw things.Do you hear yourself? Handle me? Ha! I try to say I'm sorry for failing you, and you act the lord of the manor. Being born centuries ago when women were chattel does not give you an excuse. — Christine Feehan