Thanks For Talking To Me Quotes & Sayings

Thanks. And I'll give Brayden a talking-to so he doesn't try anything on Thursday."
My mind was still full of Latin and Shakespeare. "Try what?"
Trey shook his head. "Honestly, Melbourne, I don't know Trey shook his head. "Honestly, Melbourne, I don't know how you've survived this long in the world without me."
"Oh," I said, blushing. "That." Great. Now I had something else to worry about.
Trey scoffed. "Between you and me, Brayden's probably the last guy in the world you have to worry about. I think he's as clueless as you are. If I didn't care about your virtue so much, I'd actualy probably give him a lecture on how to try something. — Richelle Mead

But fornication and all uncleanness or covetousness, let it not even be named among you, as is fitting for saints; neither filthiness, nor foolish talking, nor coarse jesting, which are not fitting, but rather giving of thanks. — Paul The Apostle

I should go," I said thickly. "Let me know when you want to start practice again. And thanks for ... talking."
I started to turn; then I heard him say abruptly, "No."
I glanced back. "What?"
He held my gaze, and something warm and wonderful and powerful shot between us.
"No," he repeated. "I told her no."
"I ... " I shut my mouth before my jaw hit the floor. "But ... why? That was a once-in-a-lifetime thing. You could have had a baby. And she ... she was, you know, into you ... "
The ghost of a smile flickered on his face. "Yes, she was. Is. And that's why I had to say no. I couldn't return that ... couldn't give her what she wanted. Not when ... " He took a few steps toward me. "Not when my heart is somewhere else. — Richelle Mead

I glanced over at them. "Clark? That's your name? I was calling you the Missionary all this time." He flashed his perfect white teeth. "Gosh, thanks, buddy! That's quite the bold moniker, and don't think I don't appreciate - " "Now shut the fuck up," I said. "Both of you. Grown-ups are talking." "Who are you?" Angus said. — Craig Schaefer

Thanks for not talking with your fists," I said. I have a little sister, and I'm not sure I'd be as understanding with any of her boyfriends.
"I've seen you fight," he said, turning. "It would've been a terribly short conversation. — Lish McBride

Shelby scowled. Seriously? Would you want to be called a nephil? It sounds like a bag you carry your shame in. No, thanks. Nephilim it is, no matter how many of us you're talking about. — Lauren Kate

What are you talking about? You're like a professional boyfriend."
"Thanks. You make me sound like a gigolo. — Stacy Kramer

Hey, sleepyhead," Mom said brightly when I walked into the kitchen.
I grunted. Tara handed me my coffee mug. I filled it quickly, added my milk and sugar, and took my first sip.
"Watching Ash drink coffee is kinda like watching a werewolf movie," Tara said. "You can see the transformation from man into beast."
"Except for me, it's beast into girl, I know," I said sourly and took another sip.
"Want some pancakes?" Mom asked.
"No, thanks." I leaned against the counter.
"They're really good," Josh said. He was watching me like he was hoping to see the transformation that Tara was talking about. — Rachel Hawthorne

I purposely used a pretty cocky, abrasive writing style in Sex and Crime, to stir up some drama. My confrontational style quickly became the talk of the scene. Some of the things I wrote were so inflammatory, people had to vent about it on online forums. So suddenly everyone in the scene was talking about Sex and Crime, just as I had hoped. I enjoyed playing the role of agitator, and people from competing hacking crews didn't even realize that the more they bitched about the things I wrote, the more credibility and notoriety they were adding to my scene mag. Thanks to all the positive as well as negative feedback I was getting, the things I wrote actually mattered. Suddenly I was the most important opinion maker in the scene. — Oliver Markus

Fiske spoke sharply to the four walls. "We need medical attention immediately. We have a gunshot wound that requires treatment."
"You're not going to get through to them by talking like an English professor," scoffed Reagan. "Hey!" she bawled. "Get a doctor down here! She's in pain, thanks to you! What are you going to do about it? — Gordon Korman

He shrugged, and for a second they stood there, sizing each other up, the moment stretching, the gaze growing uncomfortable until his gray eyes finally broke free, escaping to the ground. Kate smiled, victorious. She gestured to the patch of pavement, the border of grass. "What brings you to my office?"
He looked around, confused, as if he'd actually intruded. Then he looked up and said, "The view."
Kate flashed a crooked grin. "Oh really?"
His face went red. "I didn't mean you," he said quickly. "I was talking about the trees."
"Wow," she said dryly. "Thanks. How am I supposed to compete with pine and oak?"
"I don't know," said Freddie, cocking his head. Stray dog again. "They're pretty great. — Victoria Schwab

He looked like he was back outside the emergency room. When I stepped off the elevator he was visibly relieved, as if he had begun to worry that I wasn't going to show. He took both my hands in his. The features of his face had softened, as if he had put on the ten pounds that Eve had lost in the hospital. - Katey! Thanks for coming. It's good to see you. He was talking a little under his breath. It raised my antennae. — Amor Towles

And you'll feel sorry for yourself forever because of it, will you," she said. "A fine figure you are. It's not enough you have a warm house and a man to black your boots. You've food in your belly and a fire to warm your toes. You have clothes and clothes and clothes; you keep your own carriage, ye daft fool! There's folks who would fall on their knees in thanks to have any of those things, and all you can patter on about is people talking about you and a limp that cuts your fine stride. You can't even take a bit of sympathy, but keep to your gloom about it." She flipped one hand at him in disgust. "You're naught but a spoiled lad. — Caroline Linden

Well ... maybe I can sneak out for a few minutes," Bird said, lowering his voice. And then Greg heard him shout to his mother: "It's no one, Ma! I'm talking to no one!"
Boy, that's quick thinking! Greg thought sarcastically. He's a worse liar than I am.
And then he heard Bird call to his mom: "I know I'm on the phone. But I'm not talking to anyone. It's only Greg."
Thanks a lot, pal, Greg thought. — R.L. Stine

But I know I'm fine. Still here in this chair, talking my head off, thanks to these drugs. Then I remember the things I just said and wince.

What the hell, Blake? Talk about the Kindred, fine. Talk about Marcus, Bas, and Jode. Talk about anything but her.

I want the gag back. Someone needs to unshackle me so I can punch myself. — Veronica Rossi

Real-time creeps back in, and Lindsay realises the kid's on his knees beside him, saying his name over and over and over.
"What?"
"Oh, thank fuck ... Jesus, you're bleeding like hell."
"Thanks, Sherlock."
"Can you see a bright white light?"
"Yeah."
"Oh fuck. Fuck! Okay, listen to me, don't go near it, okay?"
"What?"
"Stay away from the light."
"What are you talking about?"
"That's death, innit? Don't go near it, promise me."
"I mean I can see the electric lights on the ceiling, you berk."
"You berk! You knob, I thought you were dying."
"You didn't specify what kind of bright light, you just said bright light,
you might've been testing my eyesight."
"I ain't fighting with you when you've been shot. — Richard Rider

I'm serious, Jim. You need to put this crap away. You walk into school on Monday talking to me, or anyone else, about the city's pesky troll problem, and you're not exactly going to get a lot of people saying, 'Gee, thanks for the warning.' It'll spread faster than mono. You think things are tough for us now? Jim, this will be the end. I'm sorry if you had a crazy nightmare. I really am. But I can't let you ruin our lives. — Guillermo Del Toro

Oh, well, thanks an awful lot, Thomas, Myfanwy thought bitterly. It sounds like I'm the Defense Minister of Ghosts and Goblins, but as long as the job is "all fairly self-explanatory," I've no doubt it will be fine. The country might get overrun by brownies and talking trees, but what the hell
there's always Australia! — Daniel O'Malley

That's Russian bureaucracy for you," says Kirill. "Talking to them, it is like - kak serpom po yaytsam."
"What did you say?" I ask.
"Like a sickle to the balls," says Kirill grimly.
I wince at the vivid imagery. Russians and their idioms.
"It means this is a bad situation," Kirill explains.
"I got that from the context clues, thanks. — Maria Malonzo

Foolish talking and jesting are not the ways in which Christian cheerfulness should express itself, but rather "giving of thanks" (Eph. 5:4). Religion is the source of joy and gladness, but its joy is expressed in a religious way, in thanksgiving and praise. — Charles Hodge

A little bit of an overkill, wouldn't you say?" Robert asked. His eyes never left hers as he watched her possessively. "I-I had to make sure he wasn't getting back up." The rest of the men laughed louder at this while Robert continued to watch her. "Oh, believe me, my dear, he'll never get up again," Lord Bradford said. Her face colored. She wasn't exactly sure what they were talking about, but she had an idea thanks to that night in the orangery. She had kicked him pretty hard. Repeatedly. — R.L. Mathewson

I can't believe I told you all those things and we've ended up talking about how great I am.'
'But we're not. You've confused the two thnigs again. You're not great. You're a shallow, feckless, self-indulgent... wanker.'
'Thanks. — Nick Hornby

In America, they have specialist mystery book stores with whole sections devoted to cat mysteries, golf mysteries, quilting mysteries. It's a hugely broad genre from the darkest noir to tales of a 19th-century vet who solves crimes, thanks to his talking cat. — Mark Billingham

I did my first nude scene--and my second and third--maybe my fourth all in one movie, thanks to Allison. Allison made me feel like I was a beautiful woman when I did those love scenes. When a man makes you feel beautiful, that's one thing. But when a woman makes you feel beautiful, she's talking about your insides, too. — Illeana Douglas

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

It's a side effect of the process. You know how they say the eyes are the windows to the soul?" he asked, and I swallowed thickly before nodding. I didn't like where this was headed. "Evidently they mean that literally. Once the soul is gone, there's nothing to see through the windows."
Nash whistled softly. "That has to be the weirdest thing I've ever seen." And that meant a lot coming from a bean sidhe.
"You want me to put the contact back in, don't you?" Addison cocked her head and gave him a small, eerie smile.
"That's be great, thanks." Nash nodded decisively.
-Tod, Nash and Addison talking about her blank white eyes — Rachel Vincent

You still talk to your horses."
I jerked and Sackett shifted, not liking the spike of energy that shot through me or the fact that my fingers had yanked at his mane.
Moses stood silhouetted in the barn door, holding what looked to be a large canvas in his hand.
I hadn't realized I was still talking to Sackett, and I did a quick examination of what I'd just said. I believe I had just uttered an embarrassing rant on Moses not being allowed in Georgia. Oh, Lord, I prayed fervently, you can make the blind man see and the deaf man hear, so it shouldn't be too much to ask to make this man forget everything he's just seen and heard.
"What does Sackett think about those new, stricter laws in Georgia?"
I looked up at the rafters, "Hey, thanks for comin' through for me, Lord. — Amy Harmon

At some point, our faith and our words must become our actions and lives. Do we talk more about God than we obey him? We aren't going to get to heaven and have God say, "Thanks for talking about doing so much for me with your friends. That was awesome!" Many of us have sat in Bible studies or retreats or church talking about what we want to change and how we want to live for God, only to go home and back to the routine of life. Change is a funny thing. It takes change to change. — Jennie Allen