Best 59 quotes in «texting quotes» category

Jealousy is a potent emotion, of course, and Facebook, texting, email, fan Web pages... In theory, being someone like George Clooney's or Halle Berry's paramour - woo hoo - how great would that be? But wait a minute... er, no, probably kind of a nightmare.

Much of romantic relationships today have to do when the people are not in the same room. Whether it’s texting or emailing or Facebooking, there’s a kind of distance between the participants.

Texting has become my favorite way to communicate. I feel like many of my relationships are based in this, because in a sense it feels the closest to actual conversation that isn't the phone.

Now we're e-mailing and tweeting and texting so much, a phone call comes as a fresh surprise. I get text messages on my cell phone all day long, and it warbles to alert me that someone has sent me a message on Facebook or a reply or direct message on Twitter, but it rarely ever rings.

Texting is not flirting, if you don't care about me enough to say the words than that's not love, I don't like it!

Abstract conversations are my favourite, for they unviel true convictions.

The postcard is sacred to me. It makes me sad that no one sends them very much anymore because of email and texting. I still like to buy them, but they've lost their original function and now just seem like reminders or mementos of what they used to be.

There's a completely new culture out there. I'm not a participant of texting and driving - or texting at all - but I see there's something going on in civilization which is coming with great vehemence at us.

The poem is a form of texting... it's the original text. It's a perfecting of a feeling in language - it's a way of saying more with less, just as texting is.

An upbeat song played over the loudspeaker, and everyone's attention focused on the Jumbotron above the basketball court. "It's time for the Bulls' Kiss Cam. So, pucker up for your sweetie and kiss them." The camera found an older couple in their fifties. The man pulled his wife, I assumed, in for a quick peck on the lips. "Aww. That is so sweet," Trina said. She proceeded to yank poor Owen to his seat in case the spotlight landed on them. She'd do just about anything to get on television, even if it meant not kissing Owen tonight to do so. "That is so staged," I said and sneaked a quick peek at my phone, seeing if he messaged me back. He didn’t. "Really?" she countered and slapped my arm. Once I glanced her way, she pointed towards the large screen looming above. On the screen was Sebastian and me as the camera had just so happened to find us. It stayed there zooming closer. And closer. And closer. "Come on," the announcer called out, prodding us. "Just one kiss won't hurt." He had no idea what he was asking. A kiss would initiate feelings I couldn't avoid any longer. I momentarily forgot how to breathe as the song, “Kiss the Girl” from the Little Mermaid hummed at my lips. Not the best choice, but still. Everything became much worse once my giant moved into view, smiling my favorite smile. Sebastian inched closer; eyebrow cocked to dare me."No pressure or anything." I was quiet for a moment before whispering, "Game on, buddy." My eyes closed a few heartbeats shy of Sebastian's lips meeting mine. His hands rose, cupping my cheeks to keep me from pulling away. Like that was going to happen. Sebastian’s mouth moved against mine, and I conceded, kissing him in return. He tasted sweet and minty, like the home I’d been missing. The kiss turned from soft and tame to fierce and wantingas if neither of us could get enough. And already, I considered myself a goner. Everything became a haze. My heart thumped so wildly against my chest, I swore Sebastian could hear. The crowd surrounding us was whistling and cheering us on, and it only kept gaining momentum as the moments passed. The noise quickly faded until it was as if we were the only two people in the room. We could have been the only two people on earth. "Okay, guys." Trina tapped my shoulder, garnering my attention. "Camera has moved on now." That was our cue to separate, and I slowly drew away from Sebastian. He, in turn, slipped his hand to the back of my neck, holding me here. "Don't," he sighed against my lips. I didn't budge another inch. I didn't want to. Sebastian rewarded me by deepening the kiss. Dear God. There were sparks. My stomach flipped. My toes curled. My body warmed. Every single inch of me only wanted one thing and one thing only. If this continued for too much longer, it was easy to guess my new favorite hobby: Kissing Sebastian Freaking Birch. Needing some air, I pressed my palm flat against his chest. This time he released me as we both were breathless. Sebastian's eyes carefully studied me. He kept staring as if he could read my heart, my mind. And for those brief few seconds, I honestly didn't believe there were any secrets between us. His gaze shifted as he gauged what to do next, and I had no freaking idea where we went from here. We'd done it now. We crossed that line, and there was no way of ever going back.

And who would have ever thought we'd see a time when the period – the building block of our very language, punctuation-wise – would be able to transform an innocent one-line message into a seemingly threatening or aggressive imperative? An era when proper punctuation was, potentially, terrifying?

Bree: Meet me at Dukes, there’s a heap of talent here ;) Me: Just finishing up, talent... you mean eye candy with an attachable penis? Bree: Well I’d hope it’s not detachable... don’t need that breaking off anywhere!!

As soon as Neil is out of the shower, he texts Peter. You up? he asks. And the reply comes instantly: For anything.

Contradictions, in any communication, are the first stepping stones of mistrust

Clearly in textbook terms, the gentleman should text the lady first after intercourse, but perhaps the whole socio-etiquettical system breaks down when an insect plague is involved.

Erin: We get to beat the shit outta guys in those big puffy suits!!! I’ve always wanted to really kick the crap outta some guy’s nuts. Now I can do it guilt-free! Me: You’re a sick girl. Erin: Guilty as charged. :)

Hello, I'm Stan and I'm a textaholic I am powerless over my thumbs

For dinner I had 20 ounces of coffee and 5 Kraft singles. Am I going to die?

Hold still, Meg, you’re dripping blood on my car seats.” I reached behind the passenger seat of Tennyson’s car looking for the white sheet she’d thrown in for mopping up bodily fluids. Quinn, sitting in the back seat, read my mind and handed it to me. “Thank you.” “No problem.” He leaned forward, pulling a corner of the sheet up to wipe off a small stream of blood on my neck. “You okay?

If I ever was texting frequently with someone and wanted to make an alias, I think I'd go with "Scottie Pippin." Then my friends who were peeking at my screen could be left wondering why I was texting with the former Chicago Bull star on the reg.

How promising today's generation is. They can whip out their cellular phones like sheep, instantly take a million digital photos of their cat and then just delete them. But I'd like to see these kids try to artfully use a traditional film camera or make a super 8 home movie. Traditional film takes integrity, nostalgia, effort, patience and imagination - things that the 21st century has very little of. Everything these days, even a superior medium like film photography with an extensively vivid history and an iconic meaning, is becoming disposable in this age.

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.

I hardly have a typo when I am drunk and texting! But, I will have enough typos when I am emotionally charged with love, lust, poetry and hope, and texting!

Look at the world and think about a catastrophic disaster where the cell phone towers went dead. How would you ever be able to 'TEXT" your next door neighbor to see if they were okay

It is proper ‪Netiquette‬ to learn to use autocorrect properly when ‪‎texting‬ or turn it off. NetworkEtiquette.Net

Me: Hypothetical question. 
Mystery Date: Okay, shoot. 
Me: If someone were to carry five very heavy bags of groceries from their car to their apartment. Then proceed to spend hours baking cupcakes. Does that and clicking the button to let Netflix know they haven’t gotten their life together and are still watching while eating said cupcakes, count as exercise? 
Me: Asking for a friend, of course. ;)

Madeline: You didn’t write to me either. Olly: you didn’t want me to Madeline:... Olly: does the ellipsis mean we’re having an awkward silence or that you’re thinking?

Me: Cake, brownies, ice cream? GO! Zach: Yes. Me: NO! Pick one! HURRY Me: I’m at the store getting ready to check out and I NEED TO KNOW. I can’t decide. Help a cute, hangry girl out, would ya. Zach: How about…a brownie cake with ice cream. Me: I think I just came. Zach: I am known for my skills.

Mek sat in the cab, doing some self-maintenance work. Instead of a verbal reply, I got a text message: SYLVATRONICS INDUSTRIAL UNIT A023 PROCESSING AN REINTEGRATION WILL BE COMPLETE IN 57 SECONDS. VERBAL COMMUNICATIONS WILL BE POSSIBLE IN ABOUT 65 SECONDS. Oh well, I've caught rookie driving partners in the middle of all sorts of things. At least with robots you don't have to guess.

Nothing stings quite like an unanswered text message.

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.

My hands are way too big to text. I’d need short hand for my hands. -Foot to Pad

Sinter: And if there’s anything you want from London let me know. I’ll send it Andy: Really, you’d ship over Tom Hiddleston? That’s sweet

She texted me 'I love you.' I texted back 'I love you too.' She then texted me 'I love you more.' And I smiled reading her message and texted in reply 'No, I love you more.' Then she texted me 'I love you infinity power infinity power infinity into infinity.' I had no words to reply and smiled looking at her text!

There's a difference between driving and texting. When your driving your eyes have to be open and on the road watching the cars around you, road signs, and traffic lights. Along with your mind on the road and destination. Which means you are multitasking. When your texting your eyes are on your cell phone screen and key pad. Along with your mind on what your going to say next. So how can you do both? Please stop!

Sometimes I text the "wrong" person ... on purpose. Just to start a conversation.

SUPPORT LITERACY! A child who cannot read cannot text.

Texting and phone calls, fireworks, blends, café au lait, and music. Yesterday's television. Work and beer. The neighbor's dog, or those strange flowers, the way it smells at Maisen. Those ordinary things I talk about with you. With you... I want to talk about love with you.

Texting is a sex toy: pleasurable but a substitute for the real thing. Love has a face. Video chatting is good, but who’s comfortable enough to share their “bed hair”? Love isn’t about pat answers.

Texting is not talking and a phone is not a friend.

[Texting] discourages thoughtful discussion or any level of detail. And the addictive problems are compounded by texting's hyperimmediacy. E-mails take some time to work their way through the Internet, through switches and routers and servers, and they require that you take the step of explicitly opening them. Text messages magically appear on the screen of your phone and demand immediate attention from you. Add to that the social expectation that an unanswered text feels insulting to the sender, and you've got a recipe for addiction: You receive a text, and that activates your novelty centers. You respond and feel rewarded for having completed a task (even though that task was entirely unknown to you fifteen seconds earlier). Each of those delivers a shot of dopamine as your limbic system cries out "More! More! Give me more!

The interesting thing about text is that, as a medium, it separates you from the person you are speaking with, so you can act differently from how you would in person or even on the phone.

Was that semi-colon some kind of flirty wink or just bad punctuation?

We had been texting for exactly thirteen minutes, asking random questions, trying to figure out if we knew any of the same people, or if we liked the same kind of music--the usual interview process you go through when you're trying to get the job as boyfriend.

Wow." Josh stopped and ran a hand over his shaved head. "I mean, yeah, there's no beating that. That's the Usain Bolt of embarrassing texts. That's made me feel a lot better, actually." "Oh, good. Great. Glad my shit-show of a life could be of service.

...what do you want to know? Usual stuff. Serious relationships, age, whether you eat babies. :-D I’m 30. I think babies are tasty, but empty calories, and I’ve had one long-term serious relationship...

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?

WHY did she do this? She was a terrible drunk texter. All the things she wanted to say to people during the day came out at night, like a vampire.

You are the illness I will never cure. You are the poem I will never write. You are the thought I will never finish. You are the text I will never read.

You know when you send a text message to someone and you don't get a response right away, you feel depressed? You send a text message to someone you really like and you get a response right away you feel happy? You feel happy, the body, it creates the chemical dopamine, the dopamine, it goes through your blood and you become addicted to that dopamine rush, and you associate that dopamine rush with the happy feeling of receiving the text, and that's why you got people sending 3,000 fucking text messages a day, right, we're not even paying attention to what we're saying anymore it's just like a, like a morphine drip, right, it's like a dopamine drip! HAPPY BUTTONS! HAPPY BUTTONS! HAPPY BUTTONS! TIME TO PLAY WITH THE HAPPY BUTTONS!