I don't talk about consciousness. I talk about interiority.
Girls that I use to try to talk to, now they want to talk to me.
In life, never talk about problems. Talk about solutions.
I don't talk about my personal life, and I don't talk about death.
Republican presidents talk about freedom. Democratic presidents talk about equality.
The press like to talk to actors. They mustn't be surprised when actors talk back to them.
Talk is cheap, action is expensive.
When I can't talk sense, I talk metaphor.
Talk radio doesn't need to be political.
Talk radio has almost ruined the sports fan.
Girls talk to each other like men talk to each other. But girls have an eye for detail.
Women eat while they are talking; men talk while they are eating.
I don't like talking about myself and I don't like talking about the work.
I get bored talking about myself, but I can talk about the work.
In the beginning there was only a small amount of injustice abroad in the world, but everyone who came afterwards added their portion, always thinking it was very small and unimportant, and look where we have ended up today.
We felt so small with the city lights stretching forever below us, and we yelled at the top of our lungs because we were just these small humans but we felt more longing than could ever fit inside us.
She wore flowers in her hair and carried magic secrets in her eyes. She spoke to no one. She spent hours on the riverbank. She smoked cigarettes and had midnight swims...
When she listened to songs that she loved on the radio, something stirred inside her. A liquid ache spread under her skin, and she walked out of the world like a witch.
Ammu watched over them fiercely. Her watchfulness stretched her, made her taut and tense. She was quick to reprimand her children, but even quicker to take offense on their behalf.
Heaven opened and the water hammered down, reviving the reluctant old well, greenmossing the pigless pigsty, carpet bombing still, tea-colored puddles the way memory bombs still, tea-colored minds.
A small white rabbit with floppy ears and a twitching pink nose bounded out from the thick forest brush. Fingers twitching at his side, James stepped toward the small animal, a nervous giddiness creeping up inside of him.
