We Barely Talk Quotes & Sayings

Listen," she said in a fierce voice, barely controlled below a shout, "you sanctimonious, know-nothing, backward, shriveled son-of-a-bitch. It's attitudes like yours that screw up the world! You talk about your religion and culture, but you're just a self-serving, patriarchal, fanatic. You wouldn't know Satan if she bit you on the ass! — J. Craig Wheeler

Blind luck, to arrive in the world with your properly formed parts in the right place, to be born to parents who were loving, not cruel, or to escape, by geographical or social accident, war or poverty. And therefore to find it so much easier to be virtuous. For a while, the case had left her numb, caring less, feeling less, going about her business, telling no one. But she became squeamish about bodies, barely able to look at her own or Jack's without feeling repelled. How was she to talk about this? Hardly plausible, to have told him that at this stage of a legal career, this one case among so many others, its sadness, its visceral — Ian McEwan

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 didn't know how to act; whether to make eye contact, how long to look at her, how close to walk. I didn't talk to people much, except Jake and Val, and with them I could talk about anything. What were you supposed to say to people you barely knew? That was the kind of thing I needed lessons in - forget algebra and history. — Jennifer R. Hubbard

I still don't understand how someone can talk about some they barely even know. — Cassie Brode

After a couple of kids, there might be one good friend left. And that friend is never available because she has too many kids herself. I'm amazed mothers have anyone to talk to. When a man finds out he's going to be a father, it barely covers more than twenty seconds of a conversation with his male friends. I heard you two are expecting! Congratu ... Who do you think is the best quarterback in the fourth quarter? — Jim Gaffigan

Look you don't know I'm your soul mate," Lily said. " You barely know me at all. I have terrible habits. I swallow toothpaste. My socks don't always match. I'm not good at small talk. I'm just about the most unpopular kid in class, a close third behind the guy who doesn't shower and the girl who's a compulsive liar. Besides, it's not like Jake and me ... He was just being nice."
"You are my soul mate, even if you don't know it yet," Tye said — Sarah Beth Durst

After a few short years (fifteen, to be exact - brief by his count, interminable by hers), surrounded by all this vegetative rampancy, she was feeling increasingly unsure of herself. She missed the built environment of New York City. It was only in an urban landscape, amid straight lines and architecture, that she could situate herself in human time and history. As a novelist she needed this. She missed people. She missed human intrigue, drama and power struggles. She needed her own species, not to talk to, necessarily, but just to be among, as a bystander in a crowd or an anonymous witness.
But here, on the sparsely populated island, human culture barely existed and then only as the
thinnest veneer. — Ruth Ozeki

I put on a skirt and blouse for the meeting, feeling dwarfy, my grown up, big-girl clothes never quite fitting. I'm barely five foot -- four foot, ten inches in truth, but I round up. Sue me. I'm thirty-one, but people tend to talk to me in singsong, like they want to give me fingerpaints. — Gillian Flynn

What's not so great is that all this technology is destroying our social skills. Not only have we given up on writing letters to each other, we barely even talk to each other. People have become so accustomed to texting that they're actually startled when the phone rings. It's like we suddenly all have Batphones. If it rings, there must be danger.
Now we answer, "What happened? Is someone tied up in the old sawmill?"
"No, it's Becky. I just called to say hi."
"Well you scared me half to death. You can't just pick up the phone and try to talk to me like that. Don't the tips of your fingers work? — Ellen DeGeneres

was throwing at Mood, and attached herself to the star deejay, Frankie Romano. This pissed Bobby off big-time. Why the hell was she going after Frankie? Everyone knew that Frankie was a major womanizing cokehead whom M.J. sometimes hired for the occasional big party. He made an attempt to talk to Serenity, but she blew him off, acting as if she barely knew him. — Jackie Collins

Do you like Cam?" the girl asked me casually. I wondered how she knew him - I thought he'd been a nobody just like me.
"I barely even know him," I told her, and her face relaxed. She was relieved. I recognized that look in her eyes - dreamy and hopeful. It must have been the way I looked when I used to talk about Conrad, used to try to think of ways to insert his name into conversation. It made me sad for her, for me. — Jenny Han

My brother the vampire, whose kiss was a slow death sentence, had a stable and loving relationship with a girl who was crazy about him. By contrast, I could barely talk to a woman, at least about anything pertaining to a relationship. Given that my only long-term girlfriends had faked their own death, died, and broken free of enslaving enchantments to end the relationship, the empirical evidence seemed to indicate that he knew something I didn't. Keep your life tonight, Harry. Complicate it tomorrow. — Jim Butcher

Aldrik laughed darkly. "What did you think I was?" he snarled. "Did you think I went to war and read books?" Vhalla took another step back. "You ran head-first into my daily hell. Would it not be more convenient if weapons of death and torture could not talk back?" Vhalla forced herself not to tremble as she looked at him. He glared at her; the orange of the fire reflecting in the black mirrors of his eyes.
With all the bravery she possessed, Vhalla crossed the distance between them; he straightened and looked down at her, imposing. Vhalla swallowed hard and tried to muster her last scrap of confidence. There would be time later to ask him about the real reasons behind the war. For now, they needed to go home.
She grabbed his hand, praying it didn't burst into flames at her touch. It didn't.
"Quit being stupid, Aldrik. Let's go." His features barely softened, but it was more than enough to know she had made herself clear. Whatever this man was, he wasn't a monster. — Elise Kova

Do you want to tell me why I'm getting the silent treatment?' He asked gruffly, his breath hot on my ear.
I hunched up my shoulders, pulling away. His voice had an effect on my body and I didn't want him to know that. 'I'm talking to you.'
'Barely.'
'I've got a lot on my mind.'
'Do you want to talk about it?'
'When have I ever wanted to talk about it? — Samantha Young

You must learn to heed your senses. Humans use but a tiny percentage of theirs. They barely look, they rarely listen, they never smell, and they think that they can only experience feelings through their skin. But they talk, oh, do they talk. — Michael Scott

He pulled back, barely a fraction, but I knew he was hurt. Why was it so easy to do that these days? For both of us. He wouldn't want to talk about something, and I'de be hurt. Or I wouldn't want to talk about something, and he'd be hurt. Or he'd invite me along with the guys, and I'd analyze every nuance of his voice and expression, worrying that he really didn't want me along, was only being polite. Or, like the other night, I'd want to comfort him, but would be worried about how he might misinterpret that.
It never used to be like this. Maybe that's just part of having a close friend of the opposite sex. As a kid, you don't think anything about it. Then you're a teenager, and you can't help but think about it. — Kelley Armstrong

I'm so sorry I have this. I can't stand the thought of how much worse this is going to get. I can't stand the thought of looking at you someday, and this face I love, and not knowing who you are."
She traced the outline of his jaw and chin and the creases of his sorely out of practice laugh lines with her hands. She wiped the sweat from his forehead and the tears from his eyes.
"I can barely breathe when I think about it. But we have to think about it. I don't know how much longer I have to know you. We need to talk about what's going to happen."
He tipped his glass back, swallowed until there was nothing left, and then sucked a little more from the ice. Then he looked at her with a scared and profound sorrow in his eyes that she'd never seen there before.
"I don't know if I can. — Lisa Genova

What matters is only what's here. I touch my skin right under my breasts, which is where the little one's curled, and where he kicks, 'cause he has to. Like, he don't feel so cosy no more. Here, can you feel it? I reckon he wants me to talk to him. He can hear me inside, for sure. He can hear every note of this silvery music.
It ripples all around him, wave after wave. I can tell that it's starting to sooth him. It's so full of joy, of delight, even if to him, it's coming across somewhat muffled. Like a dream in a dream, it's floating inside, into his soft, tender ear.
I close my eyes and hold myself, wrapping my arms real soft - around me around him - and I rock ever so gently, back and forth, back and forth, with every note of this silvery marvel. You can barely hear me - but here I am, singing along. I'm whispering words into myself, into him. — Uvi Poznansky

I'm deformed I can barely walk. I'm ugly to look at. What am I supposed to do with the rest of my life? Sit at some desk job and talk to people over a phone?"
I jump to my feet and begin to clean off the table.
"I'm not done," he tells me.
"I think you need to go practice for your future career as a nobody. Go sit in your room and hold a phone in your hand or something. — Lindy Zart

Well, there's good fiction. There are wonderful books, and yes, it's good to read them. Maybe if you've read a lot of fiction, you reach this stage of satiation, and you start thinking well, what's the point, but then you talk to people who've read barely any, and you realize that things you take for granted if you've read a lot of fiction - unreliable narrators, how language frames your perception of people - things that seem obvious to the point of banality, except they're not to people who aren't in the habit of reading fiction. — Helen DeWitt

Changing the way we talk is not political correctness run amok. It reflects an admirable willingness to acknowledge others who once were barely visible to the dominant culture, and to recognize that something that may seem innocent to you may be painful to others. — David Plotz

Mom has reorganized the kitchen so that the one room that was everyone's room is foreign to me. My visits are punctuated with me whipping around, angrily demanding, "Where are the forks, WHY DID YOU MOVE THE FORKS?" and she has to calmly open the drawer on the other side of the kitchen as if she moved it just to ruin my life. I just found out where she puts the bowls and their new location feels like such a personal attack that I can barely talk about it without raising my blood pressure. — Scaachi Koul

Logically, learning about the people around you should depend on listening. The less you talk, the more you should discover about the group. But Pennebaker found the opposite: the more you talk, the more you think you've learned about the group. By talking like a taker and dominating the conversation, you believe you've actually come to know the people around you, even though they barely spoke. In Opening Up, Pennebaker muses, "Most of us find that communicating our thoughts is a supremely enjoyable learning experience. — Adam M. Grant

We'll make love often in the first year, less in the second, and after the third year, people perhaps think about sex only once every two weeks and transform that thought into action only once a month. Even worse, we'll barely talk. — Paulo Coelho

Well, far be it for me to cause you to conjure mental images of shit without panties."
"Can we not talk about shit and panties in the same sentence?"
"You're the one that was talking about panties and lack thereof."
"Oh my God! I can barely remember that far back. Too many traumatic things have been said since then. — M. Leighton

Okay. Then ... I can talk. Ask me something."
"Okay." He laughs shakily in my ear. "Why is your heart racing Tris?"
I cringe and say, "Well, I ... I barely know you. I barely know you and I'm crammed up against you in a box, Four, what do you think?" ...
"Maybe you were cut out for Candor," he says, "because you're a terrible liar. — Veronica Roth

Detainees were not allowed to talk to each other, but we enjoyed looking at each other. The punishment for talking was hanging the detainee by the hands with his feet barely touching the ground. I saw an Afghani detainee who passed out a couple of times while hanging from his hands. The medics "fixed" him and hung him back up. Other detainees were luckier: they were hung for a certain time and then released. Most of the detainees tried to talk while they were hanging, which made the guards double their punishment. There was a very old Afghani fellow who reportedly was arrested to turn over his son. The guy was mentally sick; he couldn't stop talking because he didn't know where he was, nor why. I don't think he understood his environment, but the guards kept dutifully hanging him. It was so pitiful. One day one of the guards threw him on his face, and he was crying like a baby. — Mohamedou Ould Slahi

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

She barely hid a smile. "That's a wizard's answer if I ever heard one." "Meaning that mages deal in double talk?" His grin was impish. "That's one of our two occupational hazards." "And what's the other one?" He laughed. "A deplorable tendency to meddle. — Barbara Hambly

What's wrong?" His voice was loud, so sharp that he sounded angry.
I knew I should be careful, keep the secret, but I was too far gone to talk around it. My chest was working in huge spasms and I could barely breathe. "I kissed her."
"And then you went into anaphylactic shock?"
I closed my eyes and let the rain patter against my face through the open window "She has her tongue pierced. — Brenna Yovanoff

I know i barely talk and pretty much act like I'm not here, but I'm totally here and have a million things to say, and me being me is exactly as insane as you being you. — Todd Hasak-Lowy

I've never told anyone this, in an effort to run from my past and disguise it, I got rid of all of the scrapbooks my mother kept going back to when I was a baby. Truly. So that's why whenever talk show hosts or a producer asks for these pictures, there are barely any. My sister had a few, but that's it, and this was before digital. I've never told anyone that, but that's the truth. — Tim Gunn

On the drive home, Adam glances at me several times, clearly wanting to talk about what's happened.
But I can barely look up from the door latch.
Exactly six pain-filled minutes later, he pulls over at the corner of my street and puts the car in park. "Do you hate me?" he asks.
"More like I hate myself."
"Yeah." He sighs. "Kissing me tends to have that effect on women."
"That's not what I meant."
"Don't worry about it," he says, still trying to make light of the situation. "It's my fault. It won't happen again."
"I let it happen."
"Yes, but only because you couldn't help yourself. I must admit, I'm far too irresistible for my own good."
"I wouldn't go that far." I can't help but smile. — Laurie Faria Stolarz

He was more tired than he had a right to be, considering he'd done little more than tool along in the gig, stroll around the property, and talk with Anna. But he was exhausted, and he'd taken some sort of chill in the rain, and he could barely keep his eyes open. Still, he wasn't going to waste an opportunity to torment his intended duchess, so he stripped out of his shirt, his breeches, stockings, and smalls, and took the bucket to the hearth, the better to illuminate him for Anna's peeping eyes. Truth — Grace Burrowes

You have a college degree? You can barely talk. — Susan Elizabeth Phillips

Before you lose your children, you can talk about it-as a possibility, I mean [ ... ] But when the thing that you only imagined actually happens, you quickly discover that you can barely speak of it. Your story is jumbled and mumbled, out of sync and unfocused. At least that's how it has been for me. — Russell Banks

I knew how the suits used to talk about the artists, with barely concealed contempt. So I knew what was waiting for me round the corner. Because I wasn't one of those very unusual people like Neil Diamond or Elton John, whose careers just seem to span the decades. I knew I wasn't one of them. — Nick Lowe

People will always talk about you no matter what. Don't let there comments get to you, why? Because all there doing is hating that you have a pretty dam good life, and they're just barely getting to know their inner self. — Victoria Alvarado

You talk weird." She whispered as she stared up at the white ceiling.
"Its part of my barely there practically nonexistent charm, but just like genital herpes, I grow on ya, kid and I'll getcha in the end." Sienna replied with a smirk, although her words were vaguely comical, everything else about her was not. — Ali Harper

I had a lot of trouble speaking as a kid. I didn't really speak in coherent sentences until I was, like, 6 years old. There was a long time where everybody was very worried, because my sisters were so advanced for their age, and I would barely talk. — Ronda Rousey

I can barely breathe when I think about it. But we have to think about it. I don't know how much longer I have to know you. We need to talk about what's going to happen. He — Lisa Genova

The most damaging example of the systems archetype called "drift to low performance" is the process by which modern industrial culture has eroded the goal of morality. The workings of the trap have been classic, and awful to behold. Examples of bad human behavior are held up, magnified by the media, affirmed by the culture, as typical. This is just what you would expect. After all, we're only human. The far more numerous examples of human goodness are barely noticed. They are "not news." They are exceptions. Must have been a saint. Can't expect everyone to behave like that. And so expectations are lowered. The gap between desired behavior and actual behavior narrows. Fewer actions are taken to affirm and instill ideals. The public discourse is full of cynicism. Public leaders are visibly, unrepentantly amoral or immoral and are not held to account. Idealism is ridiculed. Statements of moral belief are suspect. It is much easier to talk about hate in public than to talk about love. — Donella H. Meadows

It was raining in the quadrangle, and the quadrangular sky looked like a grimace of a robot or a god made in our own likeness. The oblique drops of rain slid down the blades of grass in the park, but it would have made no difference if they had slid up. Then the oblique (drops) turned round (drops), swallowed up by the earth underpinning the grass, and the grass and the earth seemed to talk, no, not talk, argue, their comprehensible words like crystallized spiderwebs or the briefest crystallized vomitings, a barely audible rustling, as if instead of drinking tea that afternoon, Norton had drunk a steaming cup of peyote. — Roberto Bolano

Sports (and the often barely withheld violence around them) have become one of the few modern ways to connect with strangers. They give an amazing number of geeks things to talk about. In the old days we settled for, Hello, how are you? — Perry Brass

It's the truth." Her voice was barely more than breath.
"I believe you." He was gently kissing his way along her jaw. "You came all this way to bring me a photo."
"Yes." She said. "Well, I can..this morning..here bring it."
He raised his head, "What?"
She glared at him, "I can't talk when you're doing that."
He grinned, dimples appearing. "Sorry. Say it again. — Mary Jane Hathaway