You Can't Text Me Back Quotes & Sayings

At lunch I turned my phone on to check my messages. Georgia always sent me a few inane texts during the day, and sure enough there were two messages from her: one complaining about her physics teacher and a second, also obviously sent from her phone: I love you, baby. V.
I wrote her back: I thought I told you to buzz off last night, you creep-o French stalker guy.
Her response came back immediately: As if! Your beet-red cheeks this morning suggest otherwise ... liar! You're so into him.
I groaned and was about to turn my phone off when I saw that there was a third text from UNKNOWN. Clicking on it, I read: Can I pick you up from school? Same place, same time?
I texted back: How'd you get my number?
Called myself from your phone while you were in the restaurant's bathroom last night. Warned you we were stalkers! — Amy Plum

What if hummingbirds lost their wings? We had twenty-four hours to come back with an answer, and it took her precisely ten hours and seven minutes to text me back: Then it would rain for days and the world would know the rage of the grieving sky. — Benjamin Alire Saenz

I begin. I write a draft without ever looking back. Without ever touching what's gone before. Because I think it will be shit, so I daren't look back. I write a draft. I start again. I have the text when I start the second draft and then I do the same thing a third time.
- To Linda L. Richards, The January Interview — Clive Barker

Text me back: a love story. — Melissa Broder

My phone buzzes in my shirt pocket, and Frank takes a step back to let me answer it. I've got another text from Jem.
What does the breast part look like? I think I've got it upside-down.
"The fuck?" Frank says.
"He's talking about the turkey."
"Oh. Jesus. I mean ... good."
"Jem knows what human breasts look like."
Frank shudders. "I can't deal with this," he mutters and stalks away. — Abria Mattina

You learn your text and have it in the back of your head, without a thought as to how you're going to say it. — Kelly Lynch

Text from Mimi to Caroline:
So I'm thinking we should have a game night - you know, play Pictionary and stuff like that?
I'd love to, but I'm slammed. When were you thinking?
Maybe the Saturday night before Thanksgiving? Can you spare a few hours over the weekend?
I can spare a few hours, yes, that's about it. You guys wanna come out to Sausalito? Be nice not to have to go back into the city.
We can do that. I was thinking we should invite Sophia.
Of course we should.
And Neil.
Oh boy.
Trust me.
There's an entire wall of windows in Jillian's house, Mimi. The last thing I need is someone throwing things.
Trust me.
Think Barry Derry sells party insurance? — Alice Clayton

Someone had my number and they started text-stalking me. I've never replied to them. It was tempting to write back, but I resisted. — Sophie Ellis-Bextor

In my art history degree course, we did a module on palimpsests - medieval sheets of parchment so costly that, once the text was no longer needed, the sheets were simply scraped clean and reused, leaving the old writing faintly visible through the new. Later, Renaissance artists used the word pentimenti, repentances, to describe mistakes or alterations that were covered with new paint, only to be revealed years or even centuries later as the paint thinned with time, leaving both the original and the revision on view.

Sometimes I have a sense that this house - our relationship in it, with it, with each other - is like a palimpsest or pentimento, that however much we try to overpaint Emma Matthews, she keeps tiptoeing back: a faint image, an enigmatic smile, stealing its way into the corner of the frame. — J.P. Delaney

My phone pinged. It was a text from Cookie.
I'm not good at cocking guns.
Really? Did she not know me at all?
I texted her back.
You can do this. Learn the cock, Cookie.
Know the cock.
Be the cock. — Darynda Jones

GrayG: Just to clarify, putting the perfectly reasonable and technically correct name aside, shenanigans are a go?
Laughing now, I lean back more comfortably in the ugly plastic airport seat and answer.
IvyMac: All night, Cupcake. I can't wait to taste your frosting.
A couple seconds pass and then,
GrayG: Mac, you sent a dirty text. I just shed a tear of pride. I also have a hard-on. I think the little old lady sitting next to me is checking it out. — Kristen Callihan

And the third is from him: "Second date?"
I immediately text him back: "Hell yeah!"
Then I collapse on my bed and enjoy that "butterflies in the stomach" feeling. I've felt the butterflies before from time to time, but this is the first time I haven't sort of wanted to attack them with a flyswatter. — Adam Selzer

There was no word for what I was - unable to rent a car but able to stand in front of a room of thirteen-year-olds, sweating under industrial-grade fluorescent lights in the lilac-colored button-down my mom had picked and paid for a few months earlier. I could knock back black coffee and tell them how to ask questions, how to sit down, how to look me in the pupils. Throw away your gum. Don't text at school, at work. Clean your desk, your apartment, your life. Lessons. — Harris Sockel

Bryna bit down on her lip, hard. Then, she deleted the text and promised not to look back. — K.A. Linde

Pigpen leans against the railing and nails me with his stare. "This is the second time you've gone AWOL on the club. Let me tell you, that shit got old the first time. Next time I fucking text to see if you're alive, you text back. — Katie McGarry

I go back and research, say, every reference to the Gorgons, and I find what the classical writers said about them and it's so much richer than you might get in an average Greek mythology text. I feel like an archaeologist - I'm dusting off these things that people have not seen for thousands of years and bringing them into the modern world. — Rick Riordan

Tell me. You're a man who understands history," I said. "If you want to start a revolution, why not issue a manifesto? Why not show the people who you are, what you're doing?"
He leaned back, grateful to explain. "That's perfectly understandable. Socrates wrote nothing down. Neither did Jesus. The problem with text is that it assumes it's own reality. It cannot answer, and it cannot explain. — Nicholas Shakespeare

I have a friend - I send her one text and I get 20 texts back. Guys don't want a million texts. It's exhausting. — Anderson Cooper

I sent a quick text to Adrian: I have a hickey! You can't ever kiss me again. I honestly hadn't expected him to be awake this early, so I was surprised to get a response: Okay. I won't kiss you on your neck again.
So typical of him. No! You can't ever kiss me ANYWHERE. You said you were going to keep your distance.
I'm trying, he wrote back. But you won't keep your distance from me.
I didn't dignify that with a response. — Richelle Mead

Your task, O preacher, is to make sure that you are faithful to the text, that you are faithful to the proclamation of that gospel, that you are faithful to set forth the whole counsel of God, and then step back and let it happen. — R.C. Sproul

There are instances where lines in my work are borrowed or stolen from sources, mainly from books, or they become my own versions. A lot of the writing is my own, too. But if someone were to take each drawing and trace it back to its source, most of them could be traced back to a book or a text. — Raymond Pettibon

With Pauline at my side, in one swift act that could never be undone, an act that ended a thousand dreams but gave birth to one, I bolted for the cover of the forest and never looked back. Lest we repeat history, the stories shall be passed from father to son, from mother to daughter, for with but one generation, history and truth are lost forever. - Morrighan Book of Holy Text, Vol. III — Mary E. Pearson

My phone buzzes and I fish it from my pocket, expecting Tacey or maybe my parents checking in to make sure I'm okay. But it's an unfamiliar number.
Do you blame yourself?
I read the words once. Twice. I see Stella's locker door swinging open and I hear a train whistle, but neither are happening. It's all in my head. I force myself to take a breath and head outside. This text is a wrong number. It's not for me, and it's definitely not about Stella.
And then another message.
Do you wish you'd done something? What if you still could?
I text back quickly.
I think you have the wrong number.
I don't have the wrong number, Piper. — Natalie D. Richards

I don't know if you have ever tried to read Moby-Dick on a DS in a Tesco car park - I doubt you have - but I cannot recommend it. The two miniature screens, so in harmony with the escapades of Super Mario and Lego Batman, do not lend themselves to the study of this arcane, eldritch text; and nor does the constant clamor of a small boy in the back seat asking when he can have his DS back. — Andy Miller

What are you doing here, anyway? You don't strike me as the speed dating type.'
'I lost a bet with Alfie,' he says. 'You met him at The Cow that day . . .?' Waistcoat Guy, I think, nodding. 'I said to him that if you didn't text me back then I'd try speed dating, because I'm officially the worst single man in London.'
'You're not!' I say. 'I mean, it wasn't a bad date. I was just . . .'
'Don't say you were drunk! It's the biggest post-sex insult ever.'
'. . . drunk, I mean drinking, a bit more than I ought, and I was, uh, cringing at the thought that I'd been a nightmare date.'
'No. You were great,' says Mark/Skinny Jeans.
'Actually, the biggest post-sex insult is "we did?"' says Robert. 'But that's another story. — Gemma Burgess

sight of the name on the screen. Anna. It grows when I read the text. This message is brought to you by the BCBS [Booty Call Broadcasting System]. If you are back in town, get your wet ass over here. — Kristen Callihan

Just before she was about to hit send she deleted the kisses. In case the therapist thought she was leading him on. Then she thought of all the actual kissing they'd done last night. Ridiculous. She may just as well kiss him in a text message. She made it three kisses and went to hit send, but then she wondered if it would seem overly romantic, and changed it back to one kiss, but that seemed stingy, compared to his two, as if he was trying to make a point She made a 'tch' sounded, added back in the second kiss and hit send. — Liane Moriarty

I'm never gonna wait that extra twenty minutes to text you back and I'm never gonna play hard to get when I know your life has been hard enough already. — Andrea Gibson

Meanwhile, I continued my academic work in religious studies, delving back into the Bible not as an unquestioning believer but as an inquisitive scholar. No longer chained to the assumption that the stories I read were literally true, I became aware of a more meaningful truth in the text, a truth intentionally detached from the exigencies of history. Ironically, the more I learned about the life of the historical Jesus, the turbulent world in which he lived, and the brutality of the Roman occupation that he defied, the more I was drawn to him. Indeed, the Jewish peasant and revolutionary who challenged the rule of the most powerful empire the world had ever known and lost became so much more real to me than the detached, unearthly being I had been introduced to in church. Today, I can confidently say — Reza Aslan

Does he call? No. Does he email or even text me? No. He just ran off and left me here to rust and die." He turned back to Syn. "You really suck as a friend."
"I do suck as a friend. I'm sorry."
"Mmm-hmm. You think you can sweet-talk me? Who you been two-timing me with anyway? Some low-tech battery-operated device? I hope it shocked you every time you touched it."
Syn laughed. "There's no one else, Vik. You're the only mecha I could ever stand."

-Vik & Syn — Sherrilyn Kenyon

I have always had a weakness for footnotes. For me a clever or a wicked footnote has redeemed many a text. And I see that I am now using a long footnote to open a serious subject - shifting in a quick move to Paris, to a penthouse in the Hotel Crillon. Early June. Breakfast time. The host is my good friend Professor Ravelstein, Abe Ravelstein. My wife and I, also staying at the Crillon, have a room below, on the sixth floor. She is still asleep. The entire floor below ours (this is not absolutely relevant but somehow I can't avoid mentioning it) is occupied just now by Michael Jackson and his entourage. He performs nightly in some vast Parisian auditorium. Very soon his French fans will arrive and a crowd of faces will be turned upward, shouting in unison, 'Miekell Jack-sown'. A police barrier holds the fans back. Inside, from the sixth floor, when you look down the marble stairwell you see Michael's bodyguards. One of them is doing the crossword puzzle in the 'Paris Herald'. — Saul Bellow

If we read the text alone, assuming that the word 'cross' can only derive its meaning from the later death of Jesus, then its appearance in the text must be an anachronism read back into the story after the crucifixion. This conclusion becomes unnecessary if the cross, being the standard punishment for insurrection or for the refusal to confess Caesar's lordship, already had a clear definition in the listener's awareness. 'Take up your cross' may even have been a standard phrase of Zealot recruiting. The disciple's cross is not a metaphor for self-mortification or even generally innocent suffering; 'if you follow me, your fate will be like mine, the fate of a revolutionary. You cannot follow me without facing that fate. — John Howard Yoder

I'll be here when you get back," Kane promised. He wasn't going anywhere. "Call me if you feel like talking. Text me if you don't." He smiled. "Either way, stay in touch. Please. — Avril Ashton

Genesis began with the Father losing His family. Revelation ends with Him getting them back. Is there nothing to be learned from this sad cycle? Truly, family is the legitimate theme of holy text.
pg vi — Michael Ben Zehabe

Miss you so much it hurts.

Seconds later, she texts back, The feeling is mushrooms,followed by a second text reading, Yes, autocorrect, I meant to say mushrooms, not mutual. Good catch.

Life without you does feel a little bit like fungus, I reply. But definitely less tasty. — Emily Henry

People respond faster to you on a text than an e-mail. Why is that? Why will they ignore an e-mail, but get back to a text? — Gayle King

When you ought to be working on your computer, you are only ever one or two clicks away from checking out your friends on Facebook or welcoming a few minutes of mindless entertainment on YouTube. Text messages provide a welcome distraction from deep thinking, and binge watching the latest series on Netflix can set you back a week. You are surrounded by temptations to laziness and may succumb far more often than you think. — Tim Challies

Let me ask you a question. How long is too long to text someone back? My wife still thinks I died in 9/11. — Frankie Boyle

Hope is what makes you look outside the window to see if it's stopped raining. Hope is what makes you believe he'll text you back. Hope is why you buy your jeans a little tight ... Hope is why you get out of bed in the morning, and why you dream at night. Hope is what makes us believe that things can only get better. Hope is what keeps us going. — Jodi Picoult

The Internet also makes it extraordinarily difficult for me to focus. One small break to look up exactly how almond milk is made, and four hours later I'm reading about the Donner Party and texting all my friends: DID YOU GUYS KNOW ABOUT THE DONNER PARTY AND HOW MESSED UP THAT WAS? TEXT ME BACK SO WE CAN TALK ABOUT IT! — Mindy Kaling

I thought you weren't allowed to have a phone," he says. "Or was that a really pathetic excuse to avoid giving me your number?"
"I'm not allowed. My best friend gave it to me the other day. It can't do anything but text." He turns the screen around to face me. "What the hell kind
of texts are these?" He turns the phone around and reads one.
"Sky, you are beautiful. You are possibly the most exquisite creature in the universe and if anyone tells you otherwise, I'll cut a bitch." He arches
an eyebrow and looks up at me, then back down to the phone. "Oh, God. They're all like this. Please tell me you don't text these to yourself for daily
motivation. — Colleen Hoover

She and I had exchanged a few text messages, although they had been mostly to remind me just how pissed she'd be if I started anything with her asshole of a brother. The same asshole who had last night said, 'If you ever hurt her, psycho Sid, I'll kill you.' Naturally, I'd replied by dangling him over the balcony until he begged me to pull him back up.

It had been kind of fun." (Salem) — Suzanne Wright

My shift isn't over until six," I say glumly.
"Hold on," he says. He pulls a Blackberry from his coat pocket and taps out a text. It buzzes, and he taps out another text before stashing it back in his pocket. "I think you can take the rest of the afternoon off."
"I only have a week left, but my boss would kill me," I say.
"I'm your boss, Anna."
"What do you mean?"
There's that smile again, the one with all those teeth. "I just bought Walmart," he says. — Andrew Shaffer

Almost as remarkable as the hoax itself, and indicative of the enormous cultural power of its perpetrators, is the fact that the revelation of Rigoberta's mendacity has changed almost nothing. The Nobel committee has already refused to take back her prize, many of the thousands of college courses that make her book a required text for American college students will continue to do so, and the editorial writers of the major press institutions have already defended her falsehoods on the same grounds that supporters of Tawana Brawley's parallel hoax made famous: even if she's lying, she's telling the truth. — David Horowitz

Ask me again, Tristan read on his cell phone.
Ask what? he sent back.
Why I call you Sparky. Michael fumbled with the keys, not looking up.
Well, sure, why? Tristan sent back.
You light me up, came the answer, and Tristan's nimble fingers stopped on the keys. He stared hard at the small screen on his phone, the text message right there, waiting to see if he would send a reply. He just sat and stared till his phone turned off, unable to look up into the oh-so-blue eyes of the man who had sent it. — Z.A. Maxfield

The reader must come armed , in a serious state of intellectual readiness. This is not easy because he comes to the text alone. In reading, one's responses are isolated, one'sintellect thrown back on its own resourses. To be confronted by the cold abstractions of printed sentences is to look upon language bare, without the assistance of either beauty or community. Thus, reading is by its nature a serious business. It is also, of course, an essentially rational activity. — Neil Postman

At last either Betsie or I would open the Bible. Because only the Hollanders could understand the Dutch text, we would translate aloud in German. And then we would hear the life-giving words passed back along the aisles in French, Polish, Russian, Czech, back into Dutch. They were little previews of heaven, these evenings beneath the lightbulb. — Corrie Ten Boom

On the other side of that big-ass mirror, a video camera was watching us. In about ten seconds, it was going to start spitting static at itself, and everything it saw was going to break up into a fuzzy, gray-white wash, rolling up and down, that wouldn't be admissible as evidence on Judge Judy. Those missing frames would last a little less than a quarter of a minute, consolidate themselves back
into a semblance of reality, and then I would theoretically go walking right back out of here.
Between now and that moment, there stretched an infinite ocean of potential
time. Time enough to walk around the world. Time enough to fall in love, get
married on a white beach under purple stars, write a book of poems about
truest passion, have a few good and bloody screaming matches, get divorced in a court of autumn elves and gypsy moths, then set the ink-stained, tear-streaked pages of your text ablaze. — Clinton Boomer

I mean, what's thematic? How to put it? Going back to, like, 1980, when I started writing poetry. Language itself became an issue. I'd even think about font as an aspect of text, you know, how something looks on a page. A lot of this is the product of a very solitary existence, it's like, language, I mean, you know. A lot of time spent alone in the creation of all of this stuff. — Richard Meltzer

She said once that time is nothing to me but a series of bookmarks that I use to jump back and forth through the text of my life, returning again and again to the events that mark me in the eyes of my more astute colleagues, as bearing all the characteristics of the classic melancholic. — Dennis Lehane

Science has discovered that, like any work of literature, the human genome is a text in need of commentary, for what Eliot said of poetry is also true of DNA: 'all meanings depend on the key of interpretation.' What makes us human, and what makes each of us his or her own human, is not simply the genes that we have buried into our base pairs, but how our cells, in dialogue with our environment, feed back to our DNA, changing the way we read ourselves. Life is a dialectic. — Jonah Lehrer

What is infinite?" she recited. I knew that text well. "The universe and the greed of men," I quoted back to her. — Leigh Bardugo

I could understand a world where she was in Nepal, though I couldn't figure out why she didn't text me back. I could understand a world where she was distant but not lost. I couldn't understand a world without her. — Amy Zhang

Somewhere between us hating each other back then, you became my first real friend, my first and only best friend, and I didn't realize it until last summer, but you've actually been my first everything." "You were my first kiss, my first date that I actually enjoyed, and the first woman I fell in love with - the first woman I actually made love to..." he said. "And you're still the only person I can talk to twenty times a day - whether it's via letter, email, text, or phone call, and still feel like it's not enough. — Whitney G.

It's awkward and silent as I wait for you to say, what I need to hear now, your sincere apology. When you mean it, I'll believe it, if you text it I'll delete, let's be clear. Oh, I'm not coming back, you're taking 7 steps here ... — Miley Cyrus

Sydney: Can I ask you a question? Me: As long as you promise never again to start a question off with whether or not you can propose a question. Sydney: Okay, asshole. I know I shouldn't be thinking about him at all, but I'm curious. What did he wrote on that paper when we went to get my purse? And what did you write back that made hit you? Me: I agree that you shouldn't be thinking about him at all, but I'm honestly shocked it's taken you this long to ask me about it. Sydney: Well? Ugh. I hate writing it verbatim, but she wants to know, so ... Me: He wrote "Are you fucking her?" Sydney: OMG! What a prick! Me: Yep. Sydney: So what did you say back to him that made him punch you? Me: I write, "Why do you think I'm here for her purse? I gave her a hundred for tonight, and now she owes me change." I reread the text, and I'm not so sure it sounds as funny as I thought it did. — Colleen Hoover