Best 825 quotes in «conversation quotes» category

The world is full of unrequited love,' I said finally. 'You and Patrick having problems?' Dad said, reaching around to get the butter out of the fridge. 'No, I was just wondering what you would say if I was a lesbian.' 'Come again?' said Lester. 'I'm having a hard time following this conversation.

They do not learn, fixed in their ways as they are. You are naïve to think otherwise. It’s an illness, Assassin, for which there is but one cure.’ ‘You’re wrong. And that’s why you must be put to rest.’ ‘Am I not unlike those precious books you seek to save? A source of knowledge with which you disagree? Yet you’re rather quick to steal my life.’ ‘A small sacrifice to save many. It is necessary.

They said words they did not mean, and their conversations seemed to follow all kinds of rules—rules that no one has ever explained to Oscar.

They spoke of small things at first, since it was best, when reattaching threads, to begin with the easiest knots.

They were learning that New York had another life, too — subterranean, like almost everything that was human in the city — a life of writers meeting in restaurants at lunchtime or in coffee houses after business hours to talk of work just started or magazines unpublished, and even to lay modest plans for the future. Modestly they were beginning to write poems worth the trouble of reading to their friends over coffee cups. Modestly they were rebelling once more.

They were opposites in one way They were similar in another But they felt real with each other They felt alive with each other They understood their silences even when one would forget the other and be busy with work and struggles of life And when they finally spoke to each other, their conversation sparked a fire in the atmosphere!

Things are embarrassing, best to avoid them. But since your death I prefer a naturalist style of conversation. Let's strip it down to what matters. Let's have emotions and beliefs on show without the modest covering of small talk.

This isn't a conversation. This is the sort of monologue you run in your head with lovers you'll never speak to again. This is what happens when thoughts curdle.

Thomas's mistake, like most of the behavior he leaked into the world, had been avoidable: to join another human being in a situation that virtually demanded unscripted, spontaneous conversation, and thus to risk total moral and emotional dissolution. Death by conversation, and all that.

Throw an idea into the world and its impact will ripple and reverberate beyond your side of the shore.

Tis my humor as much to regard the form as the substance, and the advocate as much as the cause, as Alcibiades ordered we should: and every day pass away my time in reading authors without any consideration of their learning; their manner is what I look after, not their subject. And just so do I hunt after the conversation of any eminent wit, not that he may teach me, but that I may know him, and that knowing him, if I think him worthy of imitation, I may imitate him.

To hold on to hygge, we learn to listen and to speak up. We hone the art of conversation and attempt to master an evenness of flow (an equal share of contributions and turns), and to maintain a sense of mutual involvement. Those of us who are more introverted can relax in the knowledge that no one is expected to take centre stage. For an occasion to work well for everyone, the desire for hygge has to be balanced with a respect for individuality.

truly this is one of the few advantages of being a star - or rather a former star, in my case: when you meet someone else and you arrive, as you might normally expect, at a point where you're both bored, even though neither of the two is precisely the cause of it, in some way by common agreement, it's always the other who bears the responsibility for it, who feels guilty for not having kept the conversation at a sufficiently high level, for not having known how to establish a sufficiently warm and sparkling atmosphere. This situation is comforting, and even relaxing as soon as one truly begins not to give a fuck.

Usually they defined "listening" as a period in which you worked out what you were going to say next.

We call talking about other people’s personal lives ‘gossip’ only if we aren’t or weren’t part of the conversation.

Want to play hangman? asks Theophile, and I ache to tell him that I have enough on my plate playing quadriplegic. But my communication system disqualifies repartee: the keenest rapier grows dull and falls flat when it takes several minutes to thrust it home. By the time you strike, even you no longer understand what had seemed so witty before you started to dictate it, letter by letter. So the rule is to avoid impulsive sallies. It deprives conversation of its sparkle, all those gems you bat back and forth like a ball-and I count this forced lack of humor one of the great drawbacks of my condition.

We fall back into silence. I look around XO Café and notice that chatter happens mostly at tables where the diners are young and hip. The older couples, the ones sporting wedding bands that wink with their silverware, eat without the pepper of conversation. Is it because they are so comfortable, they already know what the other is thinking? Or is it because after a certain point, there is simply nothing left to say?

We can feel isolated and powerless when living with chronic illness, but what if your story begins to bridge the barrier or open a way for someone to connect? What if your story offers a glimmer of hope to someone standing at the edge of desolation? ...What if your story starts the conversation?

Well, good-bye: I have enjoyed our conversation very much, I assure you.” “Conversation, indeed!” said the Rocket. “You have talked the whole time yourself. That is not conversation.” “Somebody must listen,” answered the Frog, “and I like to do all the talking myself. It saves time, and prevents arguments.

Weird people don't care if they're weird. They are the most entertaining to converse with because nothing is off-limits.

Well-designed visuals do more than provide information; they bring order to the conversation.

We looked at each other, smiled and agreed that maybe I’m too intense. Then we ate our food and I just smirked because I knew it was true.

what a sad pair we are," she said. "Surely we can manage a conversation on a topic other than our respective terrible evenings.

When a couple starts with the "how much" conversation they should not continue the same day. You live saying I felt sorry for leaving? Do you live by saying that what you feel has already passed? So you go and ask why? Rooted belief is a continuous bad habit. I dont understand. I dont understand. Did every bad thing show up?

When a person pauses in mid-sentence to choose a word, that's the best time to jump in and change the subject! It's like an interception in football! You grab the others guy's idea and run the opposite way with it! The more sentences you complete, the higher your score! The idea is to block the other guy's thoughts and express your own! That's how you win! Conversations aren't contests! Ok, a point for you, but I'm still ahead.

When bodies talk, a hand brushing across a face declares love the tongue never speaks. When bodies talk, eyes make promises and lips keep them in the silent transfer of vows of the heart. When bodies talk, a steady stare and firm glance becomes a rod of correction. When bodies talk, they speak to us all in quiet whispers, heart-to-heart, and soul-to-soul, in soundless conversations.

Whenever we make one thing the central cause of a problem or the singular solution to that problem, the stakes are always too high to allow honest conversation or vulnerable reflection.

When he looked back at the menu as an old man, it brought back everything; the food, the wine, the private dining room, the pride he took in being able to pay for such a dinner, the convergence of his life as a writer and his life as an oenophile, the conviviality that grew as the night continued and everyone had a little too much to drink but not enough to impair the quality of the conversation, some of which, I feel sure, was about the wines themselves.

When someone says we need to talk, what he or she usually means is you will listen. Any conversation that takes place will be accidental.

When we converse, we act together toward a common end, and we act upon one another. Indeed, conversation is a form of activism - a political enterprise in the largest and oldest sense - a way of building sustaining community.

When you talk to a sympathetic mind about technology, gender, age, and experience disappear completely, and soon you’re one-on-one with the topic at hand.

Where are you?" he asked. "I'm right here" she said. "I know, but it feels like one percent of you is somewhere else, where is that one percent?" he said. "I don't know....I think I'm always like that..." she answered. "I like that." "You do?" "Yes, because that way, I have to always look for the one percent to find it.

Why should conversation always be so much more coherent than experience?

Women prefer speaking to talking.

Words are better than weapons, wisdom is better than war.

Words were few and failing between them as though the silence that sat with them had laid its old lips on theirs and sucked them dry of speech. For where could one begin? With the weather? But here there was no weather. These few sad rooms were the old man's world. His horizons were all walls.

Write as much as you can. Read as much as you can. Use the library and the internet carefully for research and talk to people about things that matter. If you have an idea in your head talk it to people as a normal conversation, to get their natural opinions. And don’t forget to jot down discreetly any new ideas you get from people. God may use other people to convey messages to you, that may add more information to the ideas you already have.

You know you're about as forthcoming as a mime.

You must endeavor to seem interested in the conversations of others; you'll be surprised by what you might learn.

You never listen to me anymore. Before, if I was talking to you, you would always listen. But now you have no time to even talk to me. 'Yeah... Has Keaty told you not to eat the Stew?' 'Richard!' I frowned 'What?' 'You are not listening to me!' '… Oh. Well I'm sorry. I've got a lot on my mind.' 'Not me.' 'Huh?' 'I am not on your mind.' 'Uh... of course you are.' 'I am not' she poked me in the ribs. 'I think you do not love me anymore.' I looked at her in astonishment '… Are you serious?' 'Very serious' she said petulantly 'But... I mean... do we have to talk about this right now?' 'Yes. It must be now. Etienne is not here, and maybe soon I will never see you agai...' 'Francoise!' I hissed. 'Keep it down!' 'Maybe I should keep it down but maybe I should not. In the dope field, when I would not be quiet, you pushed me to the ground and held me tightly'. She giggled. 'It was very exciting'.

Your narrative may fail to grip if you haven't taken any care to find out how well or badly your audience member is faring (or feeling).

Your steady rain of words soaked me to the skin

When I say the things that don't make sense you answer me anyway. It's like having green in your shirt.

When someone blamed Hecataeus the sophist because that, being invited to the public table, he had not spoken one word all supper-time, Archidamidas answered in his vindication 'He who knows how to speak, knows also when'.

Who says you’ll get hurt again?” I pouted. “Have you met you?” “Right.

Why is it women can never let a man have any fun, they just want to fuss about something.” “They’re practical” Austin said, shaking off some of the water droplets from his hair. “We live in the moment and they think about what’s coming. If they didn’t keep us in check, we’d fuck up the planet”.

Women who are not boring have realized that men do not like sex as much as it is generally believed.

Yanked out of the present, Adam discovered the richness of the past in people's stories.

You are so adorable. You can never be bad. Everyone has a hysterical part in himself, and I may be that part you. I’m just a lunatic. Maybe, a demon. And you. You’re the world.

You don't talk much, do you?" she blurted out. "I didn't think there was a need. You seem to be holding up both our ends of the conversation admirably.