Best 376 quotes in «dialogue quotes» category

Overuse at best is needless clutter; at worst, it creates the impression that the characters are overacting, emoting like silent film stars. Still, an adverb can be exactly what a sentence needs. They can add important intonation to dialogue, or subtly convey information.

Pendant des millions d'années, l'humanité a vécu comme les animaux. Par la suite, quelque chose est arrivé qui a libéré le pouvoir de notre imagination. Nous avons appris à parler et à écouter. La parole a permis la communication des idées, abilitant l'être humain à travailler ensemble afin de construire l'impossible. Les plus grandes réalisations de l'humanité se sont matérialisées en parlant, et ses plus grands échecs en ne parlant plus. Cela n'a pas lieu d'être. Nos plus grands espoirs pourraient devenir des réalités dans le futur. Avec la technologie à notre disposition, les possibilités sont illimitées. Tout ce que nous avons à faire est de s'assurer que nous continuions à parler.

People of this world are getting cleverer and cleverer," Aunty Annie announced, in a loud, emphatic voice, "But the men of our family, I'm telling you Nusrat, only Allah is their savior." -- Our Zubi Uncle

Practicing dialogue helps you to cultivate a realness that allows you to face reality on its own terms, not just the terms you’d like it to have in order to remain in your comfort zone.

Religious fanaticism is not the only clear and present danger in our world. The greatest dangers confronting human kind are still those ancient enemies of war, poverty, ignorance and disease. These create the breeding grounds in which religious extremism flourishes, because people who have been betrayed by the world’s political and economic systems often seek refuge in the alternatives offered by religion. It is often said that the most dangerous person in the world is the person with nothing to lose. The more people in our world who have nothing to lose, the greater the danger of extremism is likely to become. If we are committed to struggling against religious fanaticism, and if we really do stand in awe of human potential, then we need to cultivate a much more intelligent debate about the role religion plays in nurturing that human potential through its shaping of ideas and through the hope and meaning it gives to many millions of lives.

She couldn't or simply wouldn't understand why I wanted to sleep all the time, and she was always rubbing my nose in her moral high ground and telling me to 'face the music' about whatever bad habit I'd been stuck on at the time. The summer I started sleeping, Reva admonished me for 'squandering my bikini body.' 'Smoking kills.' 'You should get out more.' 'Are you getting enough protein in your diet?' Et cetera.

Reva often spoke about 'settling down.' That sounded like death to me. 'I'd rather be alone than anybody's live-in prostitute,' I said to Reva.

Shall I come too?" said Francis. "I might be useful. After all, I am still a doctor in the eyes of God.

She pursued his lips,' Zach laughs. 'Another one I misread! Pursued for "pursed." You know. She pursed her lips. So whenever you do that now, reach out and touch my lips to shut me up? I think, she pursued his lips.' 'That's so silly,' smiles Rachel. 'I know that. Now I'm pursuing your lips,' he adds. When Zach kisses her, Rachel is often aware of the pulse in his lower labial, a small heartbeat there. She is aware of a pulsing and a slight thickening of tissue. How many times has this boy bled from his mouth? How many times.

She's also in love with the 'Polish Rider'." "Who's he?" "A picture by Rembrandt.

She squinted at his nametag. Her eyes weren't quite working. "What's your name?" "Stig." "Stick?" she asked, half ready to believe it. He shook his head and pointed his long index finger at the name stitched on his uniform. "S-T-I-G. Stig." Harriet's breath caught. "I can't believe it. I've been looking for you.

She suggested I keep a log of my dreams as a way of tracking the 'waning intensity of suffering.' 'I don't like the term "dream journal,"' she told me at our in-person appointment in June. 'I prefer "night vision log.

...Society needs to open its collective mind to all ideas and ideologies. It needs to give its people the chance to listen to the opinions of others, and then examine them critically instead of rejecting them prematurely. Such a creative dialogue based on positive critical thinking can enhance and develop ideas.

Solan is descending in the sky...

Some crazy man came up to me and started screaming at me about how he hated Allah, and before I could tell him that my family was part of the Catholic Church in India, he knifed me.

Sometimes I feel dead," I told her, "and I hate everybody.

Some young man has wronged you, hasn't he?' From a person who renounced on principle the possibility of transcendental morality, she thought, it was an interesting choice of words. 'None of them's stuck around long enough to wrong me, Bruno.' He waved a hand dismissively. 'Romance is a fiction anyway. A myth to sell greeting cards.' Still, he seemed ready, given a name and address, to go challenge the malefactor, like some feudal-era father defending his daughter's chastity. This was all in the eyes, of course. The rest of the face stayed perfectly composed.

So you're going to have to ask yourselves on simple question: Which one of us is speaking now?

That's how vile I am! I live Ireland, I breathe Ireland, and Christ how I loathe it, I wish I were a bloody Scot, that's how bloody awful it is being Irish! I think I hate Ireland more than I hate the theatre, and that's saying something!

The 'Dance of Love' is much more of a dialogue, one takes the lead and the other follows. One dictates a step and the other carries it out. One determines the direction, the other determines the distance travelled in a given figure. One sets the pace, the other reveals the grace. One understands the language of the other and knows what is coming next. The one leading leads with love and respect; never seeing the follower as being weak or inferior. And in the same manner, the one following follows with Trust and Submission; never feeling too big to be led or scared to jump. There is a blind assurance that someone is there to catch.

Six saw a caterpillar.' 'What kind?' 'Green, with purple and white zigzags.' 'I see,' Thaniel said slowly. Liking children did not keep him from being perplexed by them. He was recently too old to remember his own childhood with any clarity. 'I imagine that was exciting?' She glanced up at him warily. 'No. It was just a caterpillar.

The fabric of human life is woven with relationships. Once we thematize the importance of dialogue, the multiplicity of ongoing and created situations in which dialogical skills can be nurtured abound. As we have seen, this requires us to slow down and turn toward each other, having a clear sense of the relationship between our current footing in dialogue with one another and the future we are trying to create. The nurture of dialogical capacities is essential to human liberation.

The question is which one of us is the frog and which is the toad,' Willem had said after they'd first seen the show, in JB's studio, and read the kindhearted books to each other late that night, laughing helplessly as they did. He'd smiled; they had been lying in bed. 'Obviously, I'm the toad,' he said. 'No,' Willem said, 'I think you're the frog; your eyes are the same color as his skin.' Willem sounded so serious that he grinned. 'That's your evidence?' he asked. 'And so what do you have in common with the toad?' 'I think I actually have a jacket like the one he has,' Willem said, and they began laughing again.

The photo had been taken at the opening of JB's fifth, long-delayed show, 'Frog and Toad,' which had been exclusively images of the two of them, but very blurred, and more abstract than JB's previous work. (They hadn't quite known what to think of the series title, though JB had claimed it was affectionate. 'Arnold Lobel?' he had screeched at them when they asked him about it. 'Hello?!' But neither he nor Willem had read Lobel's books as children, and they'd had to go out and buy them to make sense of the reference.)

There are alternatives to medication, though they tend to have more disruptive side effects." "Like what?" "Have you ever been in love?" "In what sense?" "We'll cross that road when we come to it.

The real purpose of the opposition is to minimize the amount of money the ruling party will have stolen from the people at the end of its term.

The trouble with you, Charles, is that basically you despise women, whereas I, in spite of some appearances to the contrary, do not." "I don't despise women. I was in love with all Shakespeare's heroines before I was twelve." "But they don't exist, dear man, that's the point. They live in the never-never land of art, all tricked out in Shakespeare's wit and wisdom, and mock us from there, filling us with false hopes and empty dreams. The real thing is spite and lies and arguments about money.

There are some nasty bitches out there. If they don't dab the front end, they probably don't wipe the back end. That's women of all colors and races. Guess what? I'm not one. I smell nice at all times.

The sea, the sea, yes,' James went on. 'Did you know that Plato was descended from Poseidon on his father's side? Do you have porpoises, seals?' 'There are seals, I'm told. I haven't seen any.

They say nothing!" the little captain raged. "They only putrid gunner, ship engineer. I, Ba-Karkar, must speak for all!" Ogu kicked him again. "Then ask what kind help Asahel wants, untranslatable epithet male. Or no more untranslatable for you! Never again in putrid boomer prison." Her husband gave a choked gasp. "Cruel female!" "No more sex, either," she added.

This is about how you relate to the world,' C said. 'Maybe it's about how the world relates to me,' I said back.

This movie inspires me to try new things," he said. "Like what?" I asked, amused by the thought that he might have the courage to do more in bed than reposition himself to get "better leverage.

To engage in dialogue is to serve others via whatever is real inside you; to engage in debate is to ultimately serve the illusions of your ego.

Traders are left alone because they keep Verbena afloat, but those without an emblem? They’re either dangerous or risking danger. Since we’re going the same way, would it be a bother if I accompany you?’ An odd sentiment coming from one who appears to be a lone traveler on foot. But odd does not equate to false. ‘You don’t have an emblem. Does that mean you’re dangerous?’ His lips curl slightly, as if he’s amused.

Trojan is a no-blow-job- condom. The flavor is horrible. Someone should come up with a barbecue-flavored condom for the hood. But greedy bitches would probably start chewing dicks.

Until then I had thought each book spoke of the things, human or divine, that lie outside books. Now I realized that not infrequently books speak of books: it is as if they spoke among themselves. In the light of this reflection, the library seemed all the more disturbing to me. It was then the place of a long, centuries -old murmuring, an imperceptible dialogue between one parchment and another, a living thing, a receptacle of powers not to be ruled by a human mind, a treasure of secrets emanated by many minds, surviving the death of those who had produced them or had been their conveyors.

Well, you won't abandon me, will you." "Don't be silly, Ludens, you are buckled to my heart.

We probably shouldn't be friends," I told her, stretching out on the sofa. "I've been thinking about it, and I see no reason to continue.

We're leaving," I told her one July afternoon. "We? You and I? Where are we going, young Master Paul? Do you have your belongings tied up in a red-spotted handkerchief on a stick?

We usually learn from debates that we seldom learn from debates.

What do you want to do now?" he asked her. "We should probably just kill ourselves," she imagined saying.

What do you think of Poe?" "He's awful. He was obviously . . . what's the term . . . 'disappointed in love' at some point. He probably never smiled again. The pages are just bursting with his longing for women to suffer. If he ever met me he'd probably punch me on the nose." "I think Poe's quite good, actually. The whole casual horror thing. Like someone standing next to you and screaming their head off and you asking them what the fuck and them stopping for a moment to say 'Oh you know, I'm just afraid of Death' and then they keep on with the screaming.

What do you want me to say?" "I wish you would say something. Our life goes by without any comment.

What is God anyway?" "A dark place —

What is it?” “A prayer.” “For a child?” She nodded. “For me?” Another nod. “On a tree?” “Trees spend all day looking up at God.

What I was really thinking,' resumes Rachel, 'is—well, that there's fate, you see. I don't dismiss it, I don't think it's idiotic. It's quite scientific, actually. What we become. Who we—meet, end up with,' she continues, flames in her cheeks. 'You think we would have met, no matter what? Even if I were some lushy? Some loon? Street kid?' 'You're laughing at me.' 'Just asking,' he says. 'Everyone has one person, I think. For life. That's all.

What larks we had," said James. "When?" "When we were young." I could not recall any larks I had had with James. I poured out the wine and we sat in silence.

What's that?' Thaniel said, curious. The postmarks and stamps weren't English or Japanese. 'A painting. There's a depressed Dutchman who does countryside scenes and flowers and things. It's ugly, but I have to maintain the estates in Japan and modern art is a good investment.

When he leaves home to sow his oats—" "Wild oats, Tasha. They have to be wild. Unless he ran off to be a farmer.

When Jonas came to the phone I asked him if he remembered that we used to kiss. "I remember," he said tersely. "Is that why you called?