My dad had once told me, crimson-red deep in “the talk,” that with sons, all he had to worry about was one penis, but with a daughter, he had to worry about everyone else’s.
If only one didn't know that at the secret heart of all such organizations, corporations and governments alike, it still came down to a finite number of fallible people talking to each other . . .
She was so intelligent that she could think herself into beauty. Intelligence...they don't talk about it much, the poets, but when a woman is intelligent and passionate and good...
If you see an old man talking to himself, he might not be a fool or crazy. He might be sharing a conversation with the past, warmed by a memory he need not reveal.
I wanted to talk to someone. But who? It’s moments like this, when you need someone the most, that your world seems smallest.
I don’t care too much about talking, but I don’t like being alone.
She didn't want to talk about his nonsensical fairy stuff. "That's because you can't take me there. You're not capable of it. Because it doesn't exist.
I almost slapped a patient yesterday. Stupid b**** kicked me while I was telling her to push. Talking about she needed something for the pain.
When it came to adults, it was better not to talk. They had a way of hearing one thing and processing it as something else. No reason to give them an excuse to hurt you.
Hearing him talk about his mother, about his intact family, makes my chest hurt for a second, like someone pierced it with a needle.
All we have to do to see is open our eyes and look. As we teach what we learn, I am in essence talking to myself.
Forever and an Instant Forever and an instant met up one day, had a short but lovely talk, then each went on its way.
This much I know already: When Tommy and the Big Brains, in whispered, wry asides, talk about Project 88715, they call it something else. They call it the "Adam Project.
Ode to the Chamber ...linger here amidst the chamber in which we embrace our love talk to me of sonnets and call me turtledove...
The boys have to have a chance to be at peace, at rest, without someone listening, to favor or despise them depending on the way they talk act and think.
But I quite like the way you can talk about science without necessarily using mathematics, but using metaphors instead.
I just want someone to hear what I have to say. And maybe if I talk long enough, it’ll make sense.
Go on, glare your eyes at me, and cry and plead, and talk to me about money and what it can buy. But it can't buy back a child once he's dead!
Blaire, even if all we do is kiss or just lay there and talk, I'm okay with that. I just wanted you up here. Close to me.
I can't look at you. I don't want to talk to you. I just want my things. I want to go home.-Blaire Wynn
I just—we were talking, and we fell asleep. I swear, we didn’t, um—’’ ‘‘Yeah, you’d better not have ummed.
