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'O Tiger-lily,' said Alice... 'I wish you could talk!'
'We can talk,' said the Tiger-lily: 'when there's anybody worth talking to."
Out beyond ideas of
wrong-doing and right-doing
There is a field
I'll meet you there
When the soul lies down in that grass
the world is too full to talk about.
Ideas, language, even the phrase,
each other
doesn't make any sense.
The things you do not have to say make you rich.
Saying the things you do not have to say weakens your talk.
Hearing the things you do not have to hear dulls your hearing.
And the things you know before you hear them; these are you and the reason you are in the world.
The Lord talks to everyone but most people do not know how to listen.
O tongue you are an endless treasure.
O tongue, you are also an endless disease.
We shook hands. Norm’s hand felt like salted mackerel. Our brief interaction had put him in a talkative mood. “There’s no business like shoe business,” he uttered with a death rattle laugh, heh heh, peering at me sideways like a depraved cherub as he droned on and on about the good old days in the shoe business, the bonus money and the belles whose stockinged ankles he fondled when he could still get a boner … but my mind was elsewhere. I couldn’t stop thinking about Luke Soloman, Luke Soloman, Luke Soloman. Who was this character?
Who talks by silence, does the most.
It occurs to me that our survival may depend upon our talking to one another.
Talking about things won't get them done.
When we're told a person needs a good talking to, it usually means they need a good listening to.
Gonzalo: You have spoken truer than you purposed.
Sebastian: You have taken it wiselier than I meant you should.
Gonzalo: Therefore, my lord -
Antonio: Fie, what a spendthrift is he of his tongue!
Alonso: I prithee spare.
Gonzalo: Well, I have done. But yet -
Sebastian: He will be talking.
You talk when you cease to be at peace with your thoughts;
And when you can no longer dwell in the solitude of your heart you live in your lips, and sound is a diversion and a pastime.
And in much of your talking, thinking is half murdered.
For thought is a bird of space, that in a cage of words may indeed unfold its wings but cannot fly.
"In my youth," said his father, "I look to the law,
And argued each case with my wife;
And the muscular strength, which it gave to my jaw
Has lasted the rest of my life."
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