Best Of Talking Heads Quotes

I don't care how impossible it seems. ~ David Byrne

And," I continued, "I'm probably going to be a bitch most of the time. I guarantee I'll find a reason to yell at you almost every day, and don't be surprised if a few drinks get dumped on you from time to time. That's just me, and you're going to have to deal with it. Because I'm not changing for you or anyone else. And I-"
Wesley slid off his bar stool and pressed his lips against mine before the words could get out. My heart pounded as every thought vacated my mind. One of his arms encircled my waist, pulling me as close to him as possible, and his free hand cupped my face, his thumb tracing my cheekbone. He kissed me so passionately I thought we would catch on fire.
It wasn't until after he pulled away, both of us in need of some air, that I could think straight again.
"You jerk!" I yelled, pushing him away from me. "Kissing me to make me shut up? God, you're so obnoxious. I could just throw something at you right now."
Wesley hopped onto his bar stool with a big grin, and I suddenly remembered him telling me that I was sexy when I was mad at him. Go figure. "Excuse me, Joe," he called to the bartender. "I think Bianca wants a Cherry Coke."
Despite my best efforts, I smiled. He wasn't perfect, or even remotely close, for that matter, but, hey, neither was I. We were both pretty fucked up. Somehow, though, that made everything more exciting. Yeah, it was sick and twisted, but that's reality, right? Escape is impossible, so why not embrace it?
W ~ Kody Keplinger

Democracy is talking itself to death. The people do not know what they want; they do not know what is the best for them. There is too much foolishness, too much lost motion. I have stopped the talk and the nonsense. I am a man of action. Democracy is beautiful in theory; in practice it is a fallacy. You in America will see that some day. ~ Benito Mussolini

When I think of talking, it is of course with a woman. For talking at its best being an inspiration, it wants a corresponding divine quality of receptiveness, and where will you find this but in a woman? ~ Oliver Wendell Holmes, Sr.

Audiences are my best friends. You never tire of talking with your best friends. ~ Bob Hope

I wear lots of Junk de Luxe sweaters, Cult of Individuality jeans - which are about the best for me - and Fiorentini + Baker boots. With fashion I'm good on jeans and boots. Ask me about anything else, and I'll just look at you doe-eyed and not understand what you're talking about. ~ Stephen Moyer

Not wasting any water bottles is good. Not leaving the lights on is good. Turning the thermostat down in the winter, up in the summer, is good. But the best thing any of us in the developed world, especially in the United States, can be doing is talking about it. ~ Bill Nye

I believe there's plenty of market for each; we're talking about an ecosystem that is going to support billions of devices, so a competitive landscape is good for consumers, developers, and the platforms alike. Apple brings a smooth elegance to its devices and platform, with the best marketplace experience to boot. Google brings a higher volume of devices as well as a more diverse ecosystem to interact with. The real story here is that Microsoft is nowhere to be seen, ending a two-decade monopoly and creating biggest opportunity for software startups probably ever. ~ Aaron Levie

Jeffrey Deitch is the Jeff Koons of art dealers. Not because he's the biggest, best, or the richest of his kind. But because in some ways he's the weirdest (which is saying a lot when you're talking about the wonderful, wicked, lovable, and annoying creatures known as art dealers). ~ Jerry Saltz

I mean, what is an un-birthday present?"
A present given when it isn't your birthday, of course."
Alice considered a little. "I like birthday presents best," she said at last.
You don't know what you're talking about!" cried Humpty Dumpty. "How many days are there in a year?"
Three hundred and sixty-five," said Alice.
And how many birthdays have you?"
One. ~ Lewis Carroll

you have too good a mind to throw away. I don't quite know what we're doing on this insignificant cinder spinning aay in a dark corner of the universe. That is a secret which the high gods have not confided in me. Yet one thing I believe and I believe it with every fibre of my being. A man must live by his light and do what little he can and do it as best he can. In this world goodness is destined to be defeated. But a man must go down fighting. That is the victory. To do anything less is to be less than a man.'
She is right. I will say yes. I will say yes even though I do not really know what she is talking about. ~ Walker Percy

Tribal Chief 1: The will of the people is what is best. That is what democracy means

Tribal Chief 2: But if the people don't know what they are talking about, how can that be the best? ~ Leonard Wibberley

Joe didn't like talking so much. He had already used more words in this room than he had in the past month. But he had no choice but to continue. Self-doubt began to creep into his consciousness, like a black storm cloud easing over the top of the mountains. He wasn't sure this was a job he could do well, a role he could play competently. Joe liked working the margins, keeping his mouth shut, observing from the sidelines. He did his best to block out the image of the thunderhead rolling over. ~ C.J. Box

But if we are talking in terms of making progress in life, we must understand that "good enough" is very different from "best. ~ Paulo Coelho

If you forget about the money issue for just a minute, if it's possible to do that - because these are people's livelihoods we're talking about - and you look at Internet in terms of the most amazing broadcasting network ever built, then it's completely different. In some ways, that's the best way of looking at it. ~ Thom Yorke

Do you miss her?
I blinked. Did I what? This was my best friend since preschool we were talking about, the girl whose snack and math homework I'd shared since before I had memorized my own phone number, who'd buried her cold, annoying little feet underneath me during a thousand different movie nights and showed me how to use a tampon. She'd grown up in my kitchen, she was my shadow- self - or I was hers - and Sawyer wanted to know if I missed her? What the hell kind of question was that? ~ Katie Cotugno

Women lead in ways different from men's. Men, I think, have been programmed to give orders. Women have been programmed to motivate people, to educate them, to bring out the best in them. Ours is a less authoritarian leadership. I think women tend to play hardball less often. This is the trend of office politics anyway: the days of warring factions are over. We're talking now in terms of cooperation, and I think that is the game women play best. ~ Muriel Fox

A flavor...what do you think, old madman, what do you think? That if you find a lost flavor you will eradicate decades of misunderstanding and find yourself confronted with a truth that might redeem the aridity of your heart of stone? And yet he had in his possession all the arms that make for the best duelist: a fine way with his pen, nerve, panache. His prose...his prose was nectar, ambrosia, a hymn to language: it was gut-wrenching, and it hardly mattered whether he was talking about food or something else, it would be a mistake to think that the topic mattered: it was the way he phrased it that was so brilliant. ~ Muriel Barbery

Oh. I get it." Abby laughed. "This is where you bid on someone to wash your car."

"Naked," Charli said.

"Or check the shower tiles."

"Also naked."

Abby laughed. "I'm guessing that as long as there's wet and naked, we're all good."

Fiona let out a long sigh.

"What was that?" Charli asked with a lift to her perfect brows. "Have you got a victim---I mean a participant in mind?"

Fiona glanced across the hall. "Have you seen Jackson's fireman buddy?"

"No." Charli looked across the room. "Should we?"

"Too late," Fiona said. "I've got first dibs."

At that moment, Abby noticed the Wilder boys walk across the front of the room near the stage. Individually, they were stunning. As a group, they looked as appetizing as a decadent box of chocolates. Abby couldn't tear her eyes away from Jackson. Put him in a fireman suit, a tux jacket and jeans, or a simple T-shirt and cargo shorts, and he took her breath away.

Truthfully, she liked him best in noting at all.

"Holy guacamole." Charli gestured to a tall, dark, and devastating man walking with the group. "Is that who you are talking about?"

Fiona nodded. "I want to lick him up one side and down the other like a cherry Popsicle."

"Honey, you bid as high as you can go," Charli said. "And if you run out of money, you just let me know. I'd be happy to chip in. ~ Candis Terry

The best description of this book is found within the title. The full title of this book is:

"This is the story my great-grandfather told my father, who then told my grandfather, who then told me about how The Mythical Mr. Boo, Charles Manseur Fizzlebush Grissham III, better known as Mr. Fizzlebush, and Orafoura are all in fact me and Dora J. Arod, who sometimes shares my pen, paper, thoughts, mind, body, and soul, because Dora J. Arod is my pseudonym, as he/it incorporates both my first and middle name, and is also a palindrome that can be read forwards or backwards no matter if you are an upright man in the eyes of God or you are upside down in a tank of water wearing purple goggles and grape jelly discussing how best to spread your time between your work, your wife, and the toasted bread being eaten by the man you are talking to who goes by the name of Dendrite McDowell, who is only wearing a towel on his head and has an hourglass obscuring his "time machine"--or the thing that he says can keep him young forever by producing young versions of himself the way I avert disaster in that I ramble and bumble like a bee until I pollinate my way through flowery situations that might otherwise have ended up being more than less than, but not equal to two short parallel lines stacked on top of each other that mathematicians use to balance equations like a tightrope walker running on a wire stretched between two white stretched limos parked on a long cloud that looks like ~ Jarod Kintz

What about you? I know you're not married. Are you seeing anyone or anything?"

An image of Brooke sleeping in his bed popped into Cade's head. Then a second image came to mind, of her giving him the "text me" speech at his front door. "Nothing serious."

"Really? 'Cuz you paused there."

If one more person commented on these damn alleged pauses . . . "Just eat your lunch," Cade said.

With a grin, Zach threw Cade's words back at him. "If you're having trouble talking to some girl, maybe you need to find another way to tell her how you feel."

"I know how to talk to her just fine."

"Maybe you're not saying the right things, then."

"Can we change the subject?" Cade ran his hand through his hair. "You're sixteen years old. Trust me, relationships get a lot more complicated when you're an adult."

"Is this a friends-with-benefits situation?"

"Aren't you a little young to know about friends-with-benefits situations?"

"I didn't say I was partaking in them myself," Zach said. "But shockingly, yes, I have heard of scenarios in which adults engage in intercourse without riding off into the sunset together."

Cade tried to decide how best to sum up the situation with Brooke. "There is a woman. We are friendly. There have been benefits."

"Do you like her?"

Cade gestured with his burger. "Of course I like her. She's, like, the smartest, wittiest, woman ~ Julie James

Blame your body. The whole biological purpose of existence is to mate, so from the time we hit puberty, our hormones are demanding us to couple up. Maybe it's basic instinct to feel inadequate if you're single."
"That's what sucks. There's so many more interesting things than guys, but guys are what we spend most of our time talking about."
"I think that's just the way it is, though. No matter what we do, it's always more special if there's a boyfriend to share it with."
"Or a best friend. ~ Daria Snadowsky

He returned his gaze to the spotlight, focusing on the person to the right of it. That was his best guess at who'd been doing the talking. "My name is Thomas. This is Brenda. We know Gally - we were with him at WICKED and he told us about the Right Arm and what you guys are doing a few days ago. We were on board to help, but not like this. We just want to know what you're planning, why you're kidnapping immune people and locking them up. I thought that was WICKED kind of stuff." Thomas didn't know what he'd expected, but the guy started to chuckle. "I think I'll let you see the boss just so you get the damn idea out of your head that we'd ever do anything like WICKED. ~ James Dashner

In my opinion, animation is best when it communicates without words, because it is the perfect medium through which to make shortcuts to meaning. When actors are not talking, just acting out, it looks kind of weird. But in animation, mime is constant, and you accept it. ~ Signe Baumane

To find out who you are is like putting yourself on a psychiatric couch, but you have nobody to help you. Really it isn't easy. I was talking with my nephew this morning and he gave me one of the best quotes I've heard in years 'Personal style is curiosity about oneself.' ~ Iris Apfel

Most people I meet are stupid. Now, nobody likes to be labeled as stupid because they don't want to know the truth about themselves, that they're more useful dead than alive. The vast majority of those that meet me for the first time don't believe that I've worked as a College Professor, or that I make a living as a writer. In fact, many have stopped talking to me because they believe I make a living doing something illegal, something criminal. It's easier for them to believe that I'm just a criminal, than to accept that I'm one of the most famous bestselling writers in the entire planet. The ones that reach the next level, will ask me if I belong to any secret organization, if I speak to demons or if I channel the dead, or even if I steal information from the internet and other authors. Now, what they can't see, is that the more they talk such things, the more they show me their real nature. They are very, really very, stupid. They can't see an elephant in front of their nose; they can't see an intelligent human being in front of their face; they are indeed very stupid and that's a fact, not an assumption. ~ Robin Sacredfire

When I hear women talking about how their wedding is going to be/was the best day of their life, I can't help but think, You just haven't taken enough MDMA in a field at 3 a.m., love. ~ Caitlin Moran

You don't believe it either?" Harry asked him.
"Nah, that story's just one of those things you tell kids to teach them lessons, isn't it? 'Don't go looking for trouble, don't pick fights, don't go messing around with stuff that's best left alone! Just keep your head down, mind your own business, and you'll be okay.' Come to think of it," Ron added, "maybe that story's why elder wands are supposed to be unlucky."
"What are you talking about?"
"One of those superstitions, isn't it? 'May-born witches will marry Muggles.' 'Jinx by twilight, undone by midnight.' 'Wand of elder, never prosper.' You must've heard them. My mum's full of them."
"Harry and I were raised by Muggles," Hermione reminded him. "We were taught different superstitions." She sighed deeply as a rather pungent smell drifted up from the kitchen. The one good thing about her exasperation with Xenophilius was that it seemed to have made her forget that she was annoyed at Ron. "I think you're right," she told him. "It's just a morality tale, it's obvious which gift is best, which one you'd choose - "
The three of them spoke at the same time; Hermione said, "the Cloak," Ron said, "the wand," and Harry said, "the stone."
They looked at each other, half surprised, half amused.
"You're supposed to say the Cloak," Ron told Hermione, "but you wouldn't need to be invisible if you had the wand. An unbeatable wand, Hermione, come on!"
"We've already got an Invisibility Cloak," said Har ~ J.K. Rowling

At first we had so much to catch up on we were talking a hundred words a second, barely even listening to the ends of one another's sentences before moving onto the next. And there was laughing. Lots of laughing. Then the laughing stopped and there was this silence. What the hell was it?
It was like the world stopped turning in that instant. Like everyone around us had disappeared. Like everything at home was forgotten about. It was as if those few minutes on this world were created just for us and all we could do was look at each other. It was like he was seeing my face for the first time. He looked confused but kind of amused. Exactly how I felt. Because I was sitting on the grass with my best friend Alex, and that was my best friend Alex's face and nose and eyes and lips, but they seemed different. So I kissed him. I seized the moment and I kissed him, ~ Cecelia Ahern

The human heart was created in the context of the perfection of the garden of Eden. But we don't live there now.
This is why our instincts keep firing off the lie that perfection is possible. We have pictures of perfection etched into the very DNA of our souls.
We chase it. We angle our cameras trying to catch it. We take twenty shots hoping to find it. And then even our good photos have to be color corrected, filtered, and cropped.
We do our very best to make others think this posted picture is the real deal. But we all know the truth. We all see the charade. We all know the emperor is naked. But there we are, clapping on the sidelines, following along, playing the game. Trying to believe that maybe, just maybe, if we get close to something that looks like perfection it will help us snag a little of its shine for ourselves.
But we know even the shiniest of things is headed in the direction of becoming dull. New will always eventually become old. Followers unfollow. People who lift us up will let us down. The most tightly knit aspects of life snag, unravel, and disintegrate before our very eyes.
And we are epically disappointed.
But we aren't talking about it. ~ Lysa TerKeurst

Mistrust is the fuel for so much mental pain, so many mental disorders. I am not talking here about the suspicions we sometimes have of one another, the distant but lurking sense that perhaps our lover lies to us, our best friend whispers behind our back. I am talking about a belief that betrayal inundates the atoms of the universe, is so woven into the workings of the world that every step is treacherous, and that below the rich mud lies a mine. ~ Lauren Slater