Wall Talk Quotes & Sayings

That's what this little conversation is all about. The talk about my knives, the stroll on the terrace, the handholding and come-on about what my scar sounds like. Interesting technique. Tell me, what was your next move? Maneuvering me up against the wall here? Or me accidentally falling on your dick? — Jennifer Estep

More than once, while staring at the wall, I'd thought of Our Lady. I wanted to talk to her, to say, Where do I go from here? But when I'd seen her earlier, when August and I had first come in, she didn't look like she could be of service to anybody, bound up with all that chain around her. You want the one you're praying to at least to look capable. I dragged myself out of bed and went to see her anyway. I decided that even Mary did not need to be one hundred percent capable all the time. The only thing I wanted was for her to understand. Somebody to let out a big sigh and say, You poor thing, I know how you feel. Given a choice, I preferred someone to understand my situation, even though she was helpless to fix it, rather than the other way around. But that's just me. Right — Sue Monk Kidd

He stepped away from me to talk, and I leaned heavily against the wall beside his door. Clearly, I was not meant to have sex. This was God telling me that I was meant to be a nun. Get thee to a nunnery, and all that crap. I was so delirious I was confusing God and Shakespeare. — Cora Carmack

You come home, and everyone talks at once and everyone asks questions, but no one waits for the answers.Instead they talk about themselves, what they've been up to, what they're going to do next, as if you're a photo on the wall.And then they talk to one another, forgetting you've jsut flown in, forgetting you're in the backseat, forgetting they've already said it all. — Ellen Hopkins

It suddenly seems incredible to me that this was my best friend, that we could hang out for days and never run out of things to talk about, that I would come home from her house with my throat sore from laughing. It's like there's a glass wall between us now, invisible but impenetrable. I — Lauren Oliver

Beautiful publishers say beautiful things and then We're sorry, but no... and then more beautiful things. It's a shit sandwich with branston pickle and melted gouda.

I read it out loud to the kids. I stick it to the fridge with the others. Some writers do that because it turns their crank to have a Wall of Publishers Who Passed And Will Someday Regret It. I don't. Each one is, really and truly, a gift. We look at them and the boys and I talk about rejection, all kinds of it. Creative, karmic, romantic. Nothing works out until something does. — Kate Inglis

I have always been psychic. The walls of any room I walk into talk to me. — Ethel Waters

I have no memory for things I have learned, nor things I have read, nor things experienced or heard, neither for people nor events; I feel that I have experienced nothing, learned nothing, that I actually know less than the average schoolboy, and that what I do know is superficial, and that every second question is beyond me. I am incapable of thinking deliberately; my thoughts run into a wall. I can grasp the essence of things in isolation, but I am quite incapable of coherent, unbroken thinking. I can't even tell a story properly; in fact, I can scarcely talk. — Franz Kafka

I like the color of the Caribbean." I paused and absorbed the warmth of her smile before adding, "Dogs, not cats. Boxers, not briefs. Redheads over brunettes ... " I glanced sideways at her, and she met my gaze. "I have a penchant for girls in velvet jackets ... and I think you're the most beautiful girl I've ever seen."
She choked in surprise, sputtered, and shook her head.
"You see? This is what I mean."
"What?"
"Nobody talks like that. I barely know you."
I was genuinely confused. Didn't girls like to hear this stuff? Besides, it was, conveniently enough, the truth. "Well, I talk like this. And you should be used to people telling you you're beautiful."
"Well, I'm not," she said, and she sounded like she was getting irritated with me again. The feeling was mutual.
I leaned against the wall and pulled up one knee. "Okay. I take it back. You are completely average. Dull, dull, dull. Unremarkable in every way. — Anne Greenwood Brown

I need you to go talk to a girl who may have some information about Emma."
"Where is she?"
"Someplace you're not going to want to go."
( ... )
"I give up. Where?"
"Institution 37."
I felt a hitch in my breathing. I leaned back against the wall.
"Could I pick hell instead? — Lissa Price

Written by Pulitzer Prize-winning playwright Donald Margulies and directed by Sundance nominee James Ponsoldt, 'The End of the Tour' is a terrific film, among the year's best with its two-man tarantella of wall-to-wall talk - and I watched it through my fingers as though it were Mad Max. — Steve Erickson

Let's talk about why, in the 1990s, Wall Street got deregulated. Did it have anything to do with the fact that Wall Street provided - spent billions of dollars on lobbying and campaign contributions?Well, some people might think, yeah, that had some influence. — Bernie Sanders

Being able to disappear and appear and go through walls and fly with the speed of thought isn't going to make you half as happy as to see those you witnessed to, Hi there! Wow, didn't I meet you on the streets? Didn't I talk to you about Jesus? Wow! Here you are! Hallelujah! That's going to be the biggest thrill of all! — David Berg

At town meetings, you can see the shy folks, the ones who have trouble sounding off in public, leaning against the back wall or bending over their knitting. On talk radio, those people are invisible, but they're there. It's a mistake to think that the blowhards who call in speak for the nation. — Donella Meadows

She's not my nurse but she comes up to Gran and Gramps just the same. "Don't you doubt for a second that she can hear you," she tells them. "She's aware if everything that's going on." She stands there with her hands on her hip. I can almost picture her snapping gum. Gran and Gramps stare at her, lapping up what she's telling them. "You might think the doctors or nurses or all this equipment is running the show," she says, gesturing to the wall of medical equipment. "Nuh-uh. She's running the show. Maybe she's just biding her time. So you talk to her. You tell her to take all the time she needs, but to come on back. You're waiting for her. — Gayle Forman

Retirement is lie sex. Men love to talk about it, but when the time finally comes, they're good for about fifteen minutes then they're dying to put their ties back on. — Paula Wall

I know it's a guy who will talk to me, he wears his cockiness like an ironic T-shirt, but it fits him better. He is the kind of guy who carries himself like he gets laid a lot, a guy who likes women, a guy who would actually fuck me properly. I would like to be fucked properly! My dating life seems to rotate around three types of me: preppy Ivy Leaguers who believe they're characters in a Fitzgerald novel; slick Wall Streeters with money signs in their yes, their ears, their mouths; and sensitive smart-boys who are so self-aware that everything feels like a joke. — Gillian Flynn

I sank down onto the bed against the headboard and leaned back. I crossed my legs underneath me. "Then we'll talk." I said with a smile. Rush sat down onto the bed and leaned back against the wall. A deep chuckle came from his chest and I watched as a real smile broke out on his face. "I can't believe I just begged a female to sit and talk to me." In all honesty, I couldn't either. — Abbi Glines

The poets, when they speak of war, talk of the shield wall, they talk of the spears and arrows flying, of the blade beating on the shield, of the heroes who fall and the spoils of the victors, but I was to discover that war was really about food. About feeding men and horses. About finding food. The army that eats wins. — Bernard Cornwell

The pictures on the walls aren't like movies. They don't move, they don't talk, and they'll last longer. They will last longer. — David Hockney

It's important for people to talk and get beyond the wall of Facebook and social media. — Billy Corgan

He also despised the school system, although
he thrived in it. He became a teacher because he also dreamed of
changing the system, but instead the system crushed him. He took
his passion, tried to change the system, and ran into a brick wall. It
was a system that too many people were making money in, and no
one wanted it changed, although there was a lot of talk about the
need for change. — Robert T. Kiyosaki

I never realized that growing up in Brooklyn, flying jets, working on Wall Street and starring in a sci-fi series was the prerequisite for the fast-paced demands of talk radio. But, if that's what it takes to succeed, I'm glad I did it all. — Jerry Doyle

The other cops were almost evenly divided between being scared by what they'd seen and being so impressed that it was almost worse, because I wasn't sure what they'd expect me to be able to do next time. Aimes hadn't been the only one who saw the white-shadowed outline of wings. I told them it was an answer to prayer, not me personally. I finally told one overly solicitous uniform, 'Trust me, I'm no angel.'
Nicky started laughing and couldn't seem to stop.
'Yuk it up, lion boy.'
That made him laugh harder, until he had to lean against the wall with tears trailing down from his eye. At least his laughing stopped any more weird theological questions; they just couldn't seem to talk about angels with this big, muscled bad-ass guy laughing his ass off beside me. — Laurell K. Hamilton

I had built such a wall between my experiences and how I felt about those experiences that I was incapable of reliving both simultaneously. I could talk about my traumas, even walk through them, but I couldn't feel them. When I tried to bring it all together, when I tried to remember how I had felt, I disappeared in my own head. My to-do list took on grave importance. The book I read the night before filled my thoughts. Yesterday's article suddenly called out to be rewritten. I couldn't get inside myself. — Sarah Hackley

All this talk of using tax policy to 'assess social costs' ... what a dumb idea. The only way to stop polluters is to put them against walls and shoot them. — David Brin

When we talk about power, we talk about Wall Street. — Bernie Sanders

Can we talk of integration until there is integration of hearts and minds? Unless you have this, you only have a physical presence, and the walls between us are as high as the mountain range. — Chief Dan George

A long time ago, Anne used to talk about energy-how that was all that love was-ions connecting across synapses of time and air. Don't rationalize, she'd say. None of it will ever make sense. I leaned back against the wall and closed my eyes, not wanting to cry. Anne was right. None of it made any sense. — Jacqueline Woodson

People talk about Wall Street greed, but one of the things many people don't understand is that there are a lot of organizations that have been the recipient of largess from the same Wall Street. — Geoffrey Canada

You were talking to that niche in the wall again, Gwyneth. I saw you."
"Yes, but it's my favorite bit of wall, Gordon. I'd hurt its feelings if I didn't stop and talk to it. — Kerstin Gier

Not like this. At least you have a place to go. 'End of the world' ... What is your problem, Adam? I mean, is there something about my place that's too repugnant for you to imagine living there? Why is it that everything kind I do is pity to you? Everything is charity. Well, here it is: I'm sick of tiptoeing around your principles."
"God, I'm sick of your condescension, Gansey," Adam said. "Don't try to make me feel stupid. Who whips out repugnant? Don't pretend you're not trying to make me feel stupid."
"This is the way I talk. I'm sorry your father never taught you the meaning of repugnant. He was too busy smashing your head against the wall of your trailer while you apologized for being alive."
Both of them stopped breathing.
Gansey knew he'd gone too far. It was too far, too late, too much. — Maggie Stiefvater

Jessica," he began. "Just leave me alone!" He turned her around. That she only hesitated briefly before she allowed it was a very good sign, to his mind. He pulled her close, then ran his blood-caked hand over her hair as gently as he knew how. She liked that. He would have walked from Hadrian's wall to London on his hands if she'd liked that, too. Saints, what a fool love made of a normally sane man. He rested his bruised cheek against her hair. "Jess," he whispered, "it was talk you shouldn't have heard." She tried to pull away, but he tightened his arms around her. "I said things I didn't mean." "You creep, then you don't care about me at all!" "I care," he said, forcing the words from between suddenly parched lips. He was so terrified, he was shaking. If she turned and walked away now, he wasn't sure he would survive. — Lynn Kurland

Are we just going to keep having sex so we can avoid talking about what we need to talk about?"
Prophet pulled back and looked between Tom's legs.
"What?"
"Just checking to make sure you still have a dick."
"Same one that fucked you through the wall while you begged for it," Tom pointed out, and Prophet eyes grew heavy lidded with lust again. "You're so easy, Proph."
"For you. — S.E. Jakes

I would have loved to be a fly on the wall when she walked in on you two."
"Thanks for your compassion," I say dryly. "I'm hanging up now."
"No! I'm sorry for laughing. It's just that the more we talk, the more I see you as a totally different person than I thought you were. I guess I can understand why Alex likes you."
"Thanks, I think. Remember when I told you I wouldn't let anything happen between me and Alex?"
"Yeah. Just so I get my timetable straight, that was before you kissed him. Right?" She chuckles, then says, "I'm just kidding, Brittany. If you like him, girl, go for it. — Simone Elkeles

If only those old walls could talk ... how boring they would be. — Robert Benchley

Shrinking in a corner,
pressed into the wall;
do they know I'm present,
am I here at all?
Is there a written rule book,
that tells you how to be
all the right things to talk about
that everyone has but me?
Slowly I am withering
a flowered deprived of sun;
longing to belong to
somewhere or someone. — Lang Leav

I need to think about this."

"I know."

Then I closed my eyes and realized that I had to say no. It didn't matter how I felt about the trip or the chance to get back into space. The launch date he was talking about meant I'd have to go into training now. "I can't." I opened my eyes and stared at the wall where the publicity still of me and Nathaniel hung. "I have to turn it down."

"Talk to Nathaniel."

I grimaced. He would tell me to take it. "I can't. — Mary Robinette Kowal

People love to talk but hate to listen. Listening is not merely not talking, though even that is beyond most of our powers; it means taking a vigorous, human interest in what is being told us. You can listen like a blank wall or like a splendid auditorium where every sound comes back fuller and richer. — Alice Duer Miller

The Piranha didn't talk like a person. He said things like "If you fuckin' buy this bond in a fuckin' trade, you're fuckin' fucked." And "If you don't pay fuckin' attention to the fuckin' two-year, you get your fuckin' face ripped off." Noun, verb, adjective: fucker, fuck, fucking. No part of speech was spared. His world was filled with copulating inanimate objects and people getting their faces ripped off. — Michael Lewis

I wish the iPhone people would design one that's black and has two pieces, and it plugs into the wall and you can pick one piece up and talk into it. I tell you, the whole time I had one of those old-fashioned plug-in phones, not once did I misplace it. — David Letterman

A Time to Talk
When a friend calls to me from the road
And slows his horse to a meaning walk,
I don't stand still and look around
On all the hills I haven't hoed,
And shout from where I am, What is it?
No, not as there is a time to talk.
I thrust my hoe in the mellow ground,
Blade-end up and five feet tall,
And plod: I go up to the stone wall
For a friendly visit. — Robert Frost

Don't talk. Don't sputter out a solitary protest or it will be your last. Take me to them."

"Who the f**k are you?"

He palmed the man's forehead and slammed his skull against the wall. "I said don't talk, and you want to do as I say. I'm the one thing monsters like you and your kind fear. I'm what haunts your nightmares and hunts you in the darkness. — G.S. Jennsen

Connor bangs his head back sharply against the wall, hoping to jar loose the bad thoughts clinging to his brain. This is not a good place to be alone with your thoughts. Perhaps that's why Hayden feels compelled to talk. — Neal Shusterman

The last thing in the world I should have done was go into the theater because was inordinately shy as a young man. I couldn't open my mouth. At a party, I was the one stuck up against the wall. I was embarrassed about talking. I felt that I couldn't talk well. — Gale Gordon

The media didn't hand it to Obama; after all, the Number One cable news channel, Fox, is right-wing. The Number One newspaper, the Wall Street Journal, also has a right-wing editorial slant (and is owned by the same guy who owns Fox News). The Number One talk radio show is Rush Limbaugh, and Sean Hannity is Number Two, and Glenn Beck is Number Three. When you control all the largest media outlets, it's time to stop grousing about liberal media bias. — Paul Begala

Talk of "types" should probably end around the same time you stop having pin-ups on your wall. — Mhairi McFarlane

I'd say that if you had a strained relationship with your mom, for whatever reason, the best thing to do is be open with each other, talk it over, try and work it out somehow as opposed to just putting a wall up and pushing them away. — Victoria Justice

... The shocking thing about any stripper gathering, I discovered, was that you have never heard women talk so fast and so explicitly about money in all your life. They make the guys on the trading floor on Wall Street look like a bunch of pansies. — Susie Bright

Mineral cactai, quicksilver lizards in the adobe walls, the bird that punctures space, thirst, tedium, clouds of dust, impalpable epiphanies of wind. The pines taught me to talk to myself. In that garden I learnedto send myself off. Later there were no gardens. — Octavio Paz

Sometimes it even seemed to him that this "idiot's tale" had captivated the ordinary person to a significantly greater degree than the circumstances of his or her actual life. Practically everyone Filippov knew liked to talk about what in no way affected them personally. It was as if they'd erected a fortress wall around themselves - a Great Wall of China of inexhaustible nonsense. They'd barricaded themselves in the inner courtyard of their paltry and, as it doubtless seemed to them, insignificant lives. While leaving this clumsy but inevitable self-humiliation on their conscience, Filippov nonetheless pitied those ordinary people. He — Andrey Gelasimov

It's perfectly possible to enjoy a good, civilized, person-to-person conversation with a picture on a museum wall. Talk to it, listen carefully, and it will more than likely talk back to you. — Peter Clothier

Where are you going?"
"You didn't ... "
"No, I didn't, but I'm in heaven deep in you. I want to stay like this. Let's talk."
She burst into laughter. "Talk? Are you nuts? I can't talk while lying on top of you with your cock shoved deep inside me."
He grabbed her by her waist and, without pulling out, he rose to lean on the wall, rearranging her to straddle him. "There you have it, no more lying. — Elle Aycart

Anne, I don't want to live ... Now listen, life is lovely, but I Can't Live It. I can't even explain. I know how silly it sounds ... but if you knew how it Felt. To be alive, yes, alive, but not be able to live it. Ay that's the rub. I am like a stone that lives ... locked outside of all that's real ... Anne, do you know of such things, can you hear???? I wish, or think I wish, that I were dying of something for then I could be brave, but to be not dying, and yet ... and yet to [be] behind a wall, watching everyone fit in where I can't, to talk behind a gray foggy wall, to live but to not reach or to reach wrong ... to do it all wrong ... believe me, (can you?) ... what's wrong. I want to belong. I'm like a jew who ends up in the wrong country. I'm not a part. I'm not a member. I'm frozen. — Anne Sexton

And more than echoes talk along the walls. — Alexander Pope

Also, having grown up in England, you walk around London, you're passing relics that are a thousand years old - the wall of London is a thousand years old. You don't talk about it, it's part of your everyday life. The idea that people are in these environments and talking about the past and what happened, it's irrelevant. It's all about living and in this world it was about surviving. — Miles Millar

I am a Christian resident of New York City. I simply read things the other Manhattanites read (NY Times, New Yorker magazine, Wall Street Journal, and many of the books they read) plus all my Christian reading. I don't do anything special to understand skeptics. I also talk to a lot of skeptics and read things they point to. — Timothy Keller

No, no, no, no! Come, let's away to prison: We two alone will sing like birds i' the cage: When thou dost ask me blessing, I'll kneel down, And ask of thee forgiveness: so we'll live, And pray, and sing, and tell old tales, and laugh At gilded butterflies, and hear poor rogues Talk of court news; and we'll talk with them too, Who loses and who wins; who's in, who's out; And take upon's the mystery of things, As if we were God's spies: and we'll wear out, In a wall'd prison, packs and sects of great ones, That ebb and flow by the moon. — William Shakespeare

How could something so seemingly insignificant give someone comfort? A ribbon in a gutter. A pinecone on the street. A button leaning casually against a classroom wall. A flat stone from the river. If nothing else, it showed that she cared, and it might give them something to talk about when Max woke up. When she was alone, she would conduct those conversations.
'So what's all this?' Max would say. 'What's all this junk?'
'Junk?' In her mind,she was sitting on the side of the bed. 'This isn't junk, Max. These are what made you wake up. — Markus Zusak

I quit Wall Street and decided that it was time to talk more about what was going on inside it, as it had changed. It had become far more sinister and far more dangerous. — Nomi Prins

And that was fine, except that she didn't have any old friends anymore. Kids back home who'd been friendly were now ... respectful, because of the hat. There was a kind of wall, as if she'd grown up and they hadn't. What could they talk about? She'd been to places they couldn't even imagine. Most of them hadn't even been to Twoshirts, which was only half a day away. And this didn't worry them at all. They were going to do the jobs their fathers did, or raise children like their mothers did. And that was fine, Tiffany added hurriedly to herself. But they hadn't decided. It was just happening to them, and they didn't notice. — Terry Pratchett

There's four sides to every story ...
If these walls could talk, they'd probably still ignore me. — Daniel Dumile

We're like so many puppets hung on the wall, waiting for someone to come and move us or make us talk. — Luigi Pirandello

All we did was have facilitators and the jargon - talk, talk, talk. I went through that more than once. The facilitator, not the president, runs the meetings. Everybody says something and it all goes up on a big sheet of paper. You turn it over, you fill up another sheet, and then put them all up on the wall. At the end of the meeting you gather them all down and roll them up. I don't know what the hell they do with the flip charts after that." - Hazel Wolf — Susan Starbuck

Apprehensions"

There is this white wall, above which the sky creates itself-
Infinite, green, utterly untouchable.
Angels swim in it, and the stars, in indifference also.
They are my medium.
The sun dissolves on this wall, bleeding its lights.

A grey wall now, clawed and bloody.
Is there no way out of the mind?
Steps at my back spiral into a well.
There are no trees or birds in this world,
There is only sourness.

This red wall winces continually:
A red fist, opening and closing,
Two grey, papery bags-
This is what i am made of, this, and a terror
Of being wheeled off under crosses and rain of pietas.

On a black wall, unidentifiable birds
Swivel their heads and cry.
There is no talk of immorality among these!
Cold blanks approach us:
They move in a hurry. — Sylvia Plath

Cinderella
The prince leans to the girl in scarlet heels,
Her green eyes slant, hair flaring in a fan
Of silver as the rondo slows; now reels
Begin on tilted violins to span
The whole revolving tall glass palace hall
Where guests slide gliding into light like wine;
Rose candles flicker on the lilac wall
Reflecting in a million flagons' shine,
And glided couples all in whirling trance
Follow holiday revel begun long since,
Until near twelve the strange girl all at once
Guilt-stricken halts, pales, clings to the prince
As amid the hectic music and cocktail talk
She hears the caustic ticking of the clock. — Sylvia Plath

You have a person in a very tiny cell banging himself from one wall to the other and not being able to find any way out of it. What that person can do is talk. Is create a whole balloon of language which would carry him through the ceiling to somewhere else. This is the art. This is what a story is. — Dan Miron

Before my mother's tremulous anxiety I recover my composure. Now I can walk about and talk and answer questions without fear of having suddenly to lean against the wall because the world turns soft as rubber and my veins become brimstone. — Erich Maria Remarque

You know, the immortality of the soul, free will and all that
it's all very amusing to talk about up to the age of twenty-two, but not after that. Then one ought to be giving one's mind to having fun without catching the pox, arranging one's life as comfortably as possible, having a few decent drawings on the wall, and above all writing well. That's the important thing: well-made sentences ... and then a few metaphors. Yes, a few metaphors. They embellish a man's existence. — Theophile Gautier

Retirement is like sex. Men love to talk about it but when the time finally comes they're good for about fifteen minutes then they're dying to put their tie back on. — Paula Wall

What do you want, Mal?" The room seemed very quiet.
"Don't ask me that."
"Why not?"
"Because it can't be."
"I want to hear it anyway."
He blew out a long breath. "Say goodnight. Tell me to leave, Alina."
"No."
"You need an army. You need a crown."
"I do."
He laughed then. "I know I'm supposed to say something noble
I want a united Ravka free from the Fold. I want the Darkling in the ground, where he can never hurt you or anyone else again." He gave a rueful shake of his head. "But I guess I'm the same selfish ass I've always been. For all my talk of vows and honor, what I really want is to put you up against that wall and kiss you until you forget you ever knew another man's name. So tell me to go, Alina. Because I can't give you a title or an army or any of the things you need. — Leigh Bardugo

Prepare a crossing party," snapped Horyse. "A single person to cross. Miss Abhorsen, here. And Sergeant, if you or Private Rahise so much as talk in your sleep about what you may have heard here, then you'll be on gravedigging fatigues for the rest of your lives! — Garth Nix

Every person I talk to has a story about how their smoke alarm went off or woke them up with a battery beeping. So you take it off the wall and you take the battery out and say 'screw this.' They hate the products. — Tony Fadell

If you read Wall Street's reports, they don't talk of soya bean as originating in China. They don't talk of soya bean as soya bean. They talk of Monsanto soya. Monsanto soya is protected by a patent. It has a patent number. It is therefore treated as a creation of Monsanto, a product of Monsanto's intelligence and innovation. — Vandana Shiva

But they were all dead now, even Arya, everyone but her half-brother, Jon. Some nights she heard talk of him, in the taverns and brothels of the Ragman's Harbor. The Black Bastard of the wall, one man had called him. Even Jon would never know Blind Beth, i bet. That made her sad. — George R R Martin

Turning things over and over in isolation had led me to a certain point, but I knew that to get any further I'd have to voice some ideas aloud, just to see how they sounded. But I certainly didn't go to Ellie expecting any kind of constructive input on her part. It was more that I'd hit a wall and needed someone to talk around the subject with - like when you come up against a problem that's just immune to normal logic. — Gavin Extence

... and do you know what?"
"What?"
"People don't talk about anything."
"Oh, they must!"
"No, not anything. They name a lot of cars or clothes or swimming pools mostly and say how swell! But they all say the same things and nobody says anything different from anyone else. And most of the time in the caves they have the joke boxes on and the same jokes most of the time, or the musical wall lit and all the colored patterns running up and down, but it's only color and all abstract. And at the museums, have you ever been? All abstract. That's all there is now. My uncle says it was different once. A long time back sometimes pictures said things or even showed people. — Ray Bradbury

I always prayed the same way at night: "Now I lay me down to sleep. I pray the Lord my soul to keep. If I die before I wake, I pray the Lord my soul to take. Please bless my mother, father, sister, everyone in the word, and me. And please make my father quit drinking."
As a child growing up in a family battling alcoholism, this is what I know: Something bad is coming; it always does. I can't ask for help; I'm too ashamed. I can't talk about our secrets; no one understands. I can't trust anyone; they always leave.
Questions bounced off my self-constructed wall of values
a barricade I'd made from the fears I'd pushed into my darkness.
How could Ryan, a professional baseball player, really resist all those women? How could I really trust Jerry, my childhood friend? I'd barely awakened to sex and already boys were the seventh wonder of the world. Did anyone really trust another person? I needed proof. That proof hadn't revealed itself ... yet. — Pamela Taeuffer

I want every scene to feel electric and I try to finish the filming period with a clear trajectory: a beginning, a middle, and hopefully an end.I hate "fly on the wall." It infers that I don't relate to the people we're with and that I don't get affected by events. I like it when people talk to me. I never say things like "Don't look at the camera" - how bossy! — Kim Longinotto

If people want to talk about Bob Dylan, I can talk about that. But my dad belongs to me and four other people exclusively. I'm very protective of that. And telling people whether he was affectionate is telling people a lot. It has so little to do with me. I come up against a wall. — Jakob Dylan

Donnaz and kept him there a whole summer adorning the banqueting-room. "But I advise you, little master," Bruno added, "not to talk too loudly of your discovery; for we live in changed days, do you see, and it seems those are pagan sorcerers and witches painted on the wall, and because of that, and their nakedness, the chaplain has forbidden all the young boys and wenches about the place to set foot there; and the Marchioness herself, I'm told, doesn't enter without leave." This was the more puzzling to Odo that he had — Edith Wharton

The more contact people have with each other, the more opportunities both have to do things in their own way and be misunderstood. The only way they know of to solve problems is to talk things out, but if different ways of talking are causing a problem, talking more isn't likely to solve it. Instead, trying harder usually means doing more of whatever you're doing - intensifying the style that is causing the other to react. So each unintentionally drives the other to do more and more of the opposing behavior, in a spiral that drives them both up the wall. — Deborah Tannen

Talk. We are going to talk first. I want to see you smile and laugh. I want to know what your favorite show was when you were a kid and who made you cry at school and what boy band you hung posters of on your wall. Then I want you naked in my bed again. — Abbi Glines

When would you like to go out with me so we can talk about it?" A grin flirts with his lips.
He's got her cornered.
And he knows it.
Janie chuckles, defeated. "You are such a bastard."
"When," he demands. "I promise, all my heart, I'll be your house elf for the rest of my life if I fail to meet you at the appointed date and time." He leans forward. "Promise," he says again. He holds up two fingers.
The bell rings.
They stand up.
She's not answering.
He comes around the table toward her and pushes her gently against the wall. Sinks his lips into hers.
He tastes like spearmint. She can't stop the flipping in her stomach.
He pulls back and touches her cheek, her hair. "When," he whispers. Urgently
She clears her throat and blinks. "A-a-after school works for me," she says. — Lisa McMann

In the dime stores and bus stations, people talk of situations, read books, repeat quotations, draw conclusions on the wall. — Bob Dylan

Turns me on so loud it's like no sound, everybody yelling at me hands over their ears from behind a glass wall, faces working around in talk circles but no sound from the mouths. my sound soaks up all other sound. — Ken Kesey

Do we really have to talk about professionalism? Everyone here is a professional. A master builder who puts up a wall that hasn't collapsed is certainly acting professionally, but professionalism ought to be the norm, and we should only be talking about the dodgy builder who puts up a wall that doesn't collapse....This insistence on professionalism, that it is something special, makes it sound as if people are generally lousy workers. — Umberto Eco

I also talk about building a wall and oftentimes I'll say, and there's going to be a big beautiful door in that wall and people are going to come into our country because we want people to come in. We want people to come into our country, but we want them to come in legally. — Donald Trump

I will always try to share my faith with any person who is willing to listen. When I feel a wall go up, we can talk about something else ... and I will pray for you. — Gloria Gaynor

You hear some people talk about border security and a wall and all that. To me, I don't know that you need any of that if you had a better, saner way to let people into the country in the first place. — Scott Walker

There were a lot of fools at that conference - pompous fools - and pompous fools drive me up the wall. Ordinary fools are all right; you can talk to them, and try to help them out. — Richard Feynman

We don't talk after that, not really. And it's not perfect, I mean, there aren't, like, rainbows and fireworks and sirens going off, but it's perfect anyway. Because it's Danny almost toppling over when he wrestles out of his jeans, and it's Danny laughing into the skin of my belly when I hit my head on the wall hard enough that we both hear it crack. And it's Danny who tangles our fingers together when we're almost there, holding on tight, watching my face, and it's Danny who lets me touch and explore and whisper and press smiling kisses into his hair and his cheek later, after. — Amy Garvey

How could he possibly explain himself to these people? They wanted to learn English for show-off social reasons, or to be able to read Aldous Huxley in the original. Whereas he had learned German simply and solely to be able to talk to his sex partners. For him, the entire German language - all the way from the keep-off-the-grass signs in the park to Goethe's stanza on the wall - was irradiated with sex. For him, the difference between a table and ein Tisch was that a table was the dining table in his mother's house and ein Tisch was ein Tisch in the Cosy Corner. * — Christopher Isherwood

When I walked out again I could hear Toby at the foot of the stairs, calling up to me, undoubtedly prevented from ascending by Miss Kilnside.

"What do you want?" I shouted down the stairs.

"Will you come and talk to me, please?" he called back.

"Why should I?" I asked.

"Because I fucking love you!" he shouted, and I heard Miss Kilnside sharply rebuff him for his language, but after that I could hear nothing because I'd slammed the door of my room behind me.

The rag doll was lying on my pillow, staring up at me through her one button eye, glaring at me. I picked it up and threw it against the wall with all the force I could muster; it fell behind the radiator.

"What the fuck are you doing?" I screamed at it, or me; I couldn't tell. — A.J. Mullarky

I believe that Gaston Cleric narrowly missed being a great poet, and I have sometimes thought that his outbursts of imaginative talk were fatal to his poetic gift. He squandered too much in the heat of personal communication. How often have I seen him draw his dark brows together, fix his eyes upon some object on the wall or a figure in the carpet, and then flash into the lamplight the very image that was in his brain. — Willa Cather

No matter how screwed up the artist might be, there's still the chance that they can produce art that people like us hang on our wall and talk about long after their death. That the sum is greater than one part. That maybe one incident does not a life make. — Charles Martin

Those of Manhattan are the brokers on Wall Street and they talk of people who went to the same colleges; those from Queens are margin clerks in the back offices and they speak of friends who live in the same neighborhood. — Jimmy Breslin