Best 376 quotes in «dialogue quotes» category

I don't think she's had much of a life." "Well, a life is a life." "What does that mean?" "One never knows. I daresay most lives are rotten. It's only when one's young one expects otherwise.

I don't think you truly realize what it means for the gates of Tyersall Park to be closed to you forever." Nick laughed. "Jacqueline, you sound like some character out of a Trollope novel!

If all existence is a dialogue, how is it there is still so much left unsaid?

I feel I'm at the end of something — everything is going to be different — and terrible." "That doesn't sound like you, you ride every wave." "There is one that will drown me.

I feel very, very alone." "We're all alone, Reva," I told her. It was true: I was, she was. This was the maximum comfort I could offer.

If my 'mind' don't mind, I don't mind.

If we think about what happens in a human conversation, bees do seem to converse. Like us, they pass information, evaluate, respond, and reevaluate as new information emerges. We both pass on nuanced, complex signals perceived on many levels, some conscious and some at a subconscious neurological or physiological levels. Most significantly we - and bees - often change our behaviour based on a conversation, which is one of the hallmarks of a social interaction. Bees respond to each other, which is one of the core reasons we relate so strongly to them.

I just wish moments weren’t so fleeting!' Isaac called to the man on the roof, 'They pass so quickly!' 'Fleeting?!' responded the tilling man, 'Moments? They pass quickly?! . . . Why, once a man is finished growing, he still has twenty years of youth. After that, he has twenty years of middle age. Then, unless misfortune strikes, nature gives him twenty thoughtful years of old age. Why do you call that quickly?' And with that, the tilling man wiped his sweaty brow and continued tilling; and the dejected Isaac continued wandering. 'Stupid fool!' Isaac muttered quietly to himself as soon as he was far enough away not to be heard.

I guess you probably won't be drinking the Johnnie Walker Black Label I brought for you," Corinna remarked. "I honor your gesture, but I only drink reverse-osmosis water these days, " Bernard said. "I honor your gesture?" My God, look what happens to Hong Kong men when they move to California, Corinna thought in horror.

I heard you on the phone with her. I happened to be in your arms, and you happened to be inside of me, balls deep from what I remember, so I felt the difference, felt what you felt for her, heard how your voice changed when you talked to her.

I have seen a stunning amount of death and destruction. Creation yes, but more death than birth. Mankind has learned nothing from their forefathers. Their ancestors. It is true what they say: history does repeat itself, Delacroix, and those after history are left to make it, but how can they,” he removed his hand from the globe, waving it thoughtfully through the air, “when it has already been made?

I know I only want him,' she said between sobs, the syllables all wrong, 'because he doesn't want me. How is that even possible?' 'It's normal to want what we can't have,' I said soothingly. 'No, I mean how can he not want me?

I leaned against the desk, ran my hand over my father’s paperwork, and picked up a pen. Turning around, I shoved it into my father’s hand. "What’s this?" he asked, raising a brow. "You’ll need it to sign my death certificate," I said, pain vibrating my veins against my muscles and bones. "Are we done now?” (Eric)

I'll give you a cake if you get him in the stream by the end of the afternoon,' Mori said to Six. 'Hold on,' Thaniel said. 'No making criminals of the orphans, Fagin.' 'But I want some cake,' Six frowned. 'And his name isn't Fagin.

I'll lend you my confidence boosting CD set," she would say if I alluded to any concern or worry . . . Every few weeks, she had a whole new paradigm for living, and I had to hear about it. "Get good at knowing when you're tired," she'd advised me once. "Too many women wear themselves thin these days." A lifestyle tip from Get the Most Out of Your Day, Ladies included the suggestion to preplan your outfits for the workweek on Sunday evenings. "That way you won't be second-guessing yourself in the morning." I really hated when she talked like that.

In a century or two this planet will have been destroyed by external cosmic forces or by the senseless activity of the human race. Human life is a freak phenomenon, soon to be blotted out. That is a consoling thought. Meanwhile we are surrounded by strange invisible entities, possibly your angels." "I hope so." "Ah, you think they are good, they cannot be good, there is no good, the tendency to evil is overwhelming. One has only to think of the horrors of sex, its violence, its cruelty, its filthy vulgarity, its descent into bestial degradation. You had better go and dream in your monastery." "Would you come and visit me there?" "Of course not. I do not visit. Only, unfortunately, am sometimes visited." "You don't want to discuss — you know — what happened? My priest said — " "No." "I care about how you are, I love you." "You still fail to realise how this sort of talk sickens me. Now please go. This will do for a welcome home scene. Tell them not to come. I desire to be left alone.

I love you, I want you, I'd die for you —

I'm a Buddhist. You might have a Christian obligation to catch pneumonia while you sit for two and a half hours listening to some twerp in a dress drone on about the virtue of wedded life but, dear as you are to me, I don't.

Mirth,” Dr. Tuttle said. “I like it better than joy. Happiness isn’t a word I like to use in here. It’s very arresting, happiness. You should know that I'm someone who appreciates the subtleties of human experience. Being well rested is a precondition, of course. Do you know what mirth means? M-I-R-T-H?" "Yeah. Like The House of Mirth," I said. "A sad story," said Dr. Tuttle. "I haven't read it." "Better you don't.

I'm not interested. I never liked him. He's some sort scoundrel.

I’m not crazy.” “Said every loony that ever lived.

I'm terribly in love with you. But please don't worry about it.

In faith I know not why I am so sad." Ludens did not reply to this remark which Gildas often uttered.

I’m asking about the kid,” Root said. “What does she get out of it?” “My fist in her ear if she asks as many questions as you do,” Pennant said. “You worry too much. Well, what do you say, Sultan?

I nod seriously, "Supes." "You're mocking me." "A little bit." "People say supes!" "What people?" "I can't believe you're shaming me right now. I'm very sensitive about my use of cool vernacular." "Then we're good. Because you haven't used any." I flash a grin.

In many of the films now being made, there is very little cinema: they are mostly what I call 'photographs of people talking.' When we tell a story in cinema we should resort to dialogue only when it's impossible to do otherwise. I always try to tell a story in the cinematic way, through a succession of shots and bits of film in between.

In looking at our our individual classroom pedagogies and our isolated artistic endeavors, we must broaden the frame of analysis to consider historical, contextual and institutional assumptions. This means a constant awareness of how the micro-practices of interpersonal dialogue and embodied ways of knowing each other can provide an impetus fro structural change.

I said, "Your brother is in bed with my wife." I added, "I just took them up some wine in bed.

In the days approaching Christmas, she always reminds me of the previous year: 'Jane crocheted you an entire poncho, and all you gave her was a bone-shaped beach stone.

I realized that my life of late had consisted of far too much dialogue and not enough exposition. I imagined an angry, bespectacled English teacher slashing his pen through the transcript of my life, wondering how someone could possibly say so much and think so little.

I said she's not thick, kid. I didn't say she was Professor fucking Moriarty.

Is it white wine? Red tastes like vinegar.' 'Of course it's white wine, I'm Japanese.

Is this about what happened to you and the old Sector 7?” I asked with a growl of my own. His hands tightened their grip on my shoulders. “How did you know about that?” “Tabby-Chan told me.” “Freaking Meko-Chan,” Kuroi uttered, “I swear, that kid is gonna get it. What did she tell you, exactly?” “She told me not to tell you that she told me what you told her.” I realized what I said. “Oops.” ~Luna's POV, Clash of the Clans: Shinobi 7 Companion Book #1

Is that a quotation?" "Only from me.

I suspect the study of English literature is doing you no good, it's full of all sorts of romantic high-flown nonsense. You've been reading Shelley." "I plead guilty to that crime.

I think this goat must have been fed on old boots,' Stubble complained as he chewed the last scraps of flesh from the bones littering his stew.

I think I have insomnia. That's my main issue." "You're probably addicted to caffeine, too, am I right?" "I don't know." "You better keep drinking it. If you quit now, you'll just go crazy.

I think one should pay so much attention to technique, don't you? Like learning to draw before you paint.

I want downers, that much I know," I said frankly. "And I want something that'll put a damper on my need for company.I'm at the end of my rope," I said. "I'm an orphan, on top of it all. I probably have PTSD. My mother killed herself." "How?" Dr. Tuttle asked. "Slit her wrists," I lied. "Good to know.

It is only through dialogue, deep listening, and passionate disagreement that we find our way to something larger than a singular and isolated point of view.

I told you I was going to retire from the world. That's still on. You remember that.

It's madness — " "Madness is where we live now.

It's not so easy." "What isn't?" "To establish relationships, you can't just elect people, it can't be done by thinking and willing.

I've just been certified as a shaman, or sha-woman, if you please," Dr. Tuttle said. "You can hop up on the table if you prefer not to stand. You look worse for wear. Is that the expression?" I leaned carefully against the bookshelf. "What do you use the massage table for?" I heard myself ask. "Mystical recalibrations, mostly. I use copper dowels to locate lugubriations in the subtle body field. It's an ancient form of healing—locating and then surgically removing cancerous energies." "I see." "And by surgery I mean metaphysical. Like magnet sucking. I can show you the magnet machine if you're interested. Small enough to fit in a handbag. Costs a pretty penny, although it's very useful. Very. Not so much for insomniacs, but for compulsive gamblers and Peeping Toms—adrenaline junkies, in other words. New York City is full of those types, so I foresee myself getting busier this year. But don't worry. I'm not abandoning my psychiatric clients. There are only a few of you anyway. Hence my new certification. Costly, but worth it. Sit on it," she insisted, so I did, grappling with the edge of the cool pleather of the massage table to hoist myself up. My legs swung like a kid's at the doctor's.

It is not summer, England doesn't have summer, it has continuous autumn with a fortnight's variation here and there.

It's extraordinary, the amount of misunderstandings there are even between two people who discuss a thing quite often - both of them assuming different things and neither of them discovering the discrepancy.

I was nearly christened Eric Bloom Strike,' he said and Robin choked on her water. He laughed as she coughed into a napkin. 'Let's face it, Cormoran's not much bloody better. Cormoran Blue—' 'Blue?' 'Blue Öyster Cult, aren't you listening?' 'God,' said Robin. 'You keep that quiet.' 'Wouldn't you?

Listen to what you have written. A dud rhythm in a passage of dialogue may show that you don't yet understand the characters well enough to write in their voices." [Ten rules for writing fiction (The Guardian, 20 February 2010)]

I woke up out of the ether with an utterly abandoned feeling, and asked the nurse right away if it was a boy or a girl. She told me it was a girl, and so I turned my head away and wept. ‘all right,’ I said, ‘I’m glad it’s a girl. And I hope she’ll be a fool — that’s the best thing a girl can be in this world, a beautiful little fool.

Look Moy, see the chimneys, they've lit all the fires, they must have known we were going to try to drown ourselves. And Anax is running on ahead to bring the news.