Face To Face Conversations Quotes

If you subscribe to Sherry Turkle's argument that the prevalence of text-based communications is leading to a decline in face-to-face conversations and the skills to conduct them, the shift makes total sense. ~ Aziz Ansari

Presidential campaign observer Teddy White on the second Kennedy-Nixon debate in which the candidates spoke from separate television studios: It was as if, separated by comments from his adversary, Richard Nixon was more at ease and could speak directly to the nation that lay between them. ~ David Pietrusza

She supported a deal that didn't even require this murderous regime to return a cop killer, JoAnne Chesimard, to face justice. See I know about this personally. ~ Chris Christie

Lady Merritt Sterling was a vibrantly attractive woman with large, dark eyes, a wealth of lustrous sable hair, and a flawless porcelain complexion. Unlike her two sisters, she had inherited the shorter, stockier frame of the Marsden side instead of the slender build of her mother. Similarly, she had her father's square-shaped face and determined jaw instead of her mother's delicate oval one. However, Merritt possessed a charm so compelling that she eclipsed every other woman in the vicinity, no matter how beautiful.
Merritt focused on whomever she was talking to with a wealth of sincere interest, as if she or he were the only person in the world. She asked questions and listened without ever seeming to wait for her turn to talk. She was the guest everyone invited when they needed to blend a group of disparate personalities, just as a roux would bind soap or sauce into velvety smoothness.
It was no exaggeration to say that every man who met Merritt fell at least a little in love with her. When she had entered society, countless suitors had pursued her before she'd finally consented to marry Joshua Sterling, an American-born shipping magnate who had taken up residence in London. ~ Lisa Kleypas

Anyway," Beau - clearly eager to change the subject - pointed down the hall, "let's talk about the color Jethro decided to paint the second bedroom."

"What's wrong with green?" Jethro grinned slyly. His poker face had always sucked.

"Nothing is wrong with green, but that's a very odd shade of green. What was it called again?"

"Sweet pea," Duane supplied flatly for his twin. "It was called sweet pea and I believe it was labeled as nursery paint."

"Nursery paint, huh? You have something to tell us, Jethro?" Beau teased, mirroring Jethro's grin. "No news to share? No big bombshell to drop?"

Jethro glanced at me. "I can't believe you didn't tell them yet."

"Why would I? I'm good at keeping secrets." I shoved my hands in my pockets, making sure I looked innocent. "And I'm not the one who's pregnant."

"I knew it!" Beau attacked Jethro, pulling him into a quick man-hug.

Jethro's grin widened to as large as I've ever seen it. "How could you possibly know?"

Duane clapped Jethro on the back as soon as Beau released him. "Because you've always wanted kids, and weren't one to futz around once you made up your mind."

"You should have painted it vomit green, to disguise all the baby vomit you're going to have to deal with," Beau suggested.

"And shit brown," Duane added. "Don't forget about the shit."

"Y'all are the best." Jethro placed his hands over his chest ~ Penny Reid

A girl stood before him in midstream, alone and still, gazing out to sea. She seemed like one whom magic had changed into the likeness of a strange and beautiful seabird. Her long slender bare legs were delicate as a crane's and pure save where an emerald trail of seaweed had fashioned itself as a sign upon the flesh. Her thighs, fuller and soft-hued as ivory, were bared almost to the hips, where the white fringes of her drawers were like feathering of soft white down. Her slate-blue skirts were kilted boldly about her waist and dovetailed behind her. Her bosom was as a bird's, soft and slight, slight and soft as the breast of some dark-plumaged dove. But her long fair hair was girlish: and girlish, and touched with the wonder of mortal beauty, her face. ~ James Joyce

Horror, let's face it, is basically pretty dumb. You're writing about events that are preposterous, and the trick is to dress them up in language so compelling that the reader doesn't care. ~ T.E.D. Klein

Her father shrugged then turned the laptop around to face him again.
"On the bright side, I suppose I'm not going to have to worry about you dating again anytime soon. ~ Armada West

The dust made Lily cough. She buried her face in the crook of her arm to muffle the noise. But behind all that wood, they probably could play the 1812 Overture with real cannons and nobody would hear them. ~ Ellie McDonald

I didn't know what to say to that. I just stared at him. He was right, of course he was right, but ... "I can't do my job like this."
"No," he said, "you can't."
Then suddenly I felt the first tear slide down my face.
"No crying," he said.
Another tear joined the first. I fought not to wipe at them.
His hand dropped to his side and he took a deep breath. "That's not fair. Don't cry."
"I'm sorry, I don't mean to, but you're right, I think. I'm pregnant, damn it, not crippled. ~ Laurell K. Hamilton

I want to live in this moment just a little bit longer. After all, it's my fucking fairytale.

This isn't about Cinderella and her strange feet that are different from everyone else's feet in the kingdom.

This isn't about Rapunzel and her super strong neck muscles that can support the weight of a grown man.

This isn't about Snow White and her seven little men kink - although I'm more like her than the others.

This story is about me - Winter Tews.

So cue the music.

Light the fireworks.

Pour the scotch.

Because this shit is really happening.

This is the ending to a fairytale I never imagined could be mine.

I give Jinx a pleading look. "One more time?"

"For fuck's sake," he rushes out, exasperated.

He cradles my face in his hands. Kisses me crazy. Doesn't pull away until I'm breathless. Then he says it again. "I love you."

I only have one thing to say.

"Ditto."

And we lived happily ever after. ~ Kim Jones

People do not often stop to dwell on the reality that the most difficult daily challenges we face are a result of dealing with human energies. That vibe they sent you, that vibration you picked up... that's just as real as the chair you are sitting on. Our souls are struggling, playing, fighting, winning, losing... all on the playing fields and the battle grounds of human energy. ~ C. JoyBell C.

Don't fall in love with a woman who reads, a woman who feels too much, a woman who writes...
Don't fall in love with an educated, magical, delusional, crazy woman. Don't fall in love with a woman who thinks, who knows what she knows and also knows how to fly; a woman sure of herself.
Don't fall in love with a woman who laughs or cries making love, knows how to turn her spirit into flesh; let alone one that loves poetry (these are the most dangerous), or spends half an hour contemplating a painting and isn't able to live without music.
Don't fall in love with a woman who is interested in politics and is rebellious and feel a huge horror from injustice. One who does not like to watch television at all. Or a woman who is beautiful no matter the features of her face or her body.
Don't fall in love with a woman who is intense, entertaining, lucid and irreverent. Don't wish to fall in love with a woman like that. Because when you fall in love with a woman like that, whether she stays with you or not, whether she loves you or not, from a woman like that, you never come back. ~ Martha Rivera-Garrido

Then the Announcer would transform: into a screen through which to glimpse the past-or into a portal through which to step.
This Announcer was sticky,but she soon pulled it apart,guided it into shape. She reached inside and opened the portal.
She couldn't stay here any longer. She had a mission now: to find herself alive in another time and learn what price the Outcasts had referred to, and eventually,to trace the origin of the curse between Daniel and her.
Then to break it.
The others gasped as she manipulated the Announcer.
"When did you learn how to do that?" Daniil whispered.
Luce shook her head. Her explanation would only baffle Daniil.
"Lucinda!" The last thing she heard was his voice calling out her true name.
Strange,she'd been looking right at his stricken face but hadn't seen her lips move. Her mind was playing tricks.
"Lucinda!" he shouted once more, his voice rising in panic,just before Luce dove headfirst into the beckoning darkness. ~ Lauren Kate

God is not needed to create guilt or to punish. Our fellow men suffice, aided by ourselves. You were speaking of the Last Judgement. Allow me to laugh respectfully. I shall wait for it resolutely, for I have known what is worse, the judgement of men. For them, no extenuating circumstances; even the good intention is ascribed to crime. Have you at least heard of the spitting cell, which a nation recently thought up to prove itself the greatest on earth? A walled-up box in which the prisoner can stand without moving. The solid door that locks him in the cement shell stops at chin level. Hence only his face is visible, and every passing jailer spits copiously on it. The prisoner, wedged into his cell, cannot wipe his face, though he is allowed, it is true. to close his eyes. Well, that, mon cher, is a human invention. They didn't need God for that little masterpiece. ~ Albert Camus

[T]he most elaborate code of [law]... would still have left unspecified a hundred ways in which wreckers of Communism could have sidetracked it without ever having to face the essential questions: are you pulling your weight in the social boat? are you giving more trouble than you are worth? have you earned the privilege of living in a civilized community? That is why the Russians were forced to set up an Inquisition or Star Chamber, called at first the Cheka and now the Gay Pay Oo (Ogpu), to go into these questions and "liquidate" persons who could not answer them satisfactorily. ~ George Bernard Shaw

The window opened in the same direction as the king's, and there, summer-bright and framed by the darkness of the stairwell, was the same view. Costis passed it, and then went back up the stairs to look again. There were only the roofs of the lower part of the palace and the town and the city walls. Beyond those were the hills on the far side of the Tustis Valley and the faded blue sky above them. It wasn't what the king saw that was important, it was what he couldn't see when he sat at the window with his face turned toward Eddis. ~ Megan Whalen Turner

You could call it heroic responsibility, maybe," Harry Potter said. "Not like the usual sort. It means that whatever happens, no matter what, it's always your fault. Even if you tell Professor McGonagall, she's not responsible for what happens, you are. Following the school rules isn't an excuse, someone else being in charge isn't an excuse, even trying your best isn't an excuse. There just aren't any excuses, you've got to get the job done no matter what." Harry's face tightened. "That's why I say you're not thinking responsibly, Hermione. Thinking that your job is done when you tell Professor McGonagall - that isn't heroine thinking. Like Hannah being beat up is okay then, because it isn't your fault anymore. Being a heroine means your job isn't finished until you've done whatever it takes to protect the other girls, permanently." In Harry's voice was a touch of the steel he had acquired since the day Fawkes had been on his shoulder. "You can't think as if just following the rules means you've done your duty. ~ Eliezer Yudkowsky

I'm willing to bargain with you," he said gently, "for the same reason anyone tries to bargain-you have something I want." Desperately trying to prove to her she wasn't powerless or empty-handed, he added, "I want it badly, Elizabeth."
"What is it?" she asked warily, but much of the resentment in her lovely face was already being replaced by surprise.
"This," he whispered huskily. His hands tightened on her shoulders, pulling her close as he bent his head and took her soft mouth in a slow, compelling kiss, sensually molding and shaping her lips to his. Although she stubbornly refused to respond, he felt the rigidity leaving her; and as soon as it did, Ian showed her just how badly he wanted it. His arms went around her, crushing her to him, his mouth moving against hers with hungry urgency, his hands shifting possessively over her spine and hips, fitting her to his hardened length. Dragging his mouth from hers, he drew an unsteady breath. "Very badly," he whispered.
Lifting his head, he gazed down at her, noting the telltale flush on her cheeks, the soft confusion in her searching green gaze, and the delicate hand she'd forgotten was resting against his chest. Keeping his own hand splayed against her lower back, he held her pressed to his rigid erection, torturing himself as he slid his knuckles against her cheek and quietly said, "For that privilege, and the others that follow it, I'm willing to agree to any reasonable terms you state. And I'll even forewarn ~ Judith McNaught

Sir Walter, being strangely surprised and put out of his countenance at so great a table, gives his son a damned blow over the face. His son, as rude as he was, would not strike his father, but strikes over the face the gentleman that sat next to him and said, "Box about: twill come to my father anon." ~ John Aubrey

It's not right," he repeated, grabbing her again and turning her to face him. "I'm not having it."
"So you said, in clear terms."
"I don't mean that."
"Oh, well, if you've decided you'd like to have sex with me after all, I've changed my mind."
"I haven't decided
" He broke off, staggered. "Changed your mind?"
"I have. Kissing you wasn't altogether what I thought it would be. So you were right and I was wrong." She gave him a deliberately insulting pat on the cheek." And that's the end of it."
"The hell it is." He trapped her against the truck, quickly and firmly enough to have both excitement and annoyance rising inside her. "If I want you, I'll have you, and that's the end of it. ~ Nora Roberts

What did you think when I first told you about the animals I found?"
He seemed confused. It obviously wasn't what he'd expected. "Violet, I was seven years old. I thought it was badass. I think I was probably even jealous."
She made a face at him. "Didn't you think it was creepy? Or that I was weird?"
"Yeah," he agreed enthusiastically. "That's why I was so jealous. I wanted to be the one finding dead bodies. You were like an animal detective or something. You were only weird 'cause you were a girl." He grinned. "But I learned to overlook that since you always took me on such cool adventures."
Violet released a breath, smiling. She knew he was telling the truth, which only made it funnier to hear him saying the words out loud. Of course, what little boy didn't want to go scavenging through the woods and digging in the dirt?
She tried again. "Did you ever tell anyone? Does your mom know?"
He lifted her hand to his mouth and rubbed her knuckles across his lower lip, his gaze locked with hers. "No," he promised. "I swore I wouldn't, not even her. I think she knows something, or at least she thinks you have the worst luck ever, since you found all those dead girls." He lowered his voice. "She was really worried about you after the shooting last year. You're like a daughter to her." He leaned close. "Of course, that makes it kind of creepy when I do things like this."
He kissed her. It was intimate. Not soft or sweet this time, it was deep and pa ~ Kimberly Derting

You were dancing with Yuki and I looked at you. And you turned away and held her closer. Why did you do that? If you didn't want to hurt me, then why?"
He looked away, as though he'd been slapped, but he didn't look guilty. He looked pained. "I closed my eyes," he said, his voice so low and strangled she could hardly hear him.
"What?" she asked, not understanding.
"Tamani held up a hand and Laurel realized he hadn't finished-he was having trouble speaking at all. "I closed my eyes," he repeated after a few shallow breaths, "and imagined she was you."He looked at her, his face open, his eyes honest, his voice a song of anguish. ~ Aprilynne Pike

Come sit, dear," the old woman said. "We were just discussing kelpies and changelings."

I turned a delightfully amused face at Ronan, hoping to see him embarrassed to be caught in a world of fantasy, but his face was impassive, completely unperturbed. Those were the hardest boys to ignore: the ones that weren't concerned with your opinion of them, not afraid to be caught listening to fairytales. ~ Annie Cosby

Sucking in air, Heather said, "Fluffy - Mrs. Allen's ferocious dog - chased me all the way down Pine Street trying to tear me to shreds with his razor fangs. I barely got away."
Scarlet scrunched her face. "Isn't Fluffy a Chihuahua?"
Still panting, Heather said, "Yes. A demon-possessed, human-eating Chihuahua. ~ Chelsea Fine

I see them standing at the formal gates of their colleges,
I see my father strolling out
under the ochre sandstone arch, the
red tiles glinting like bent
plates of blood behind his head, I
see my mother with a few light books at her hip
standing at the pillar made of tiny bricks with the
wrought-iron gate still open behind her, its
sword-tips black in the May air,
they are about to graduate, they are about to get married,
they are kids, they are dumb, all they know is they are
innocent, they would never hurt anybody.
I want to go up to them and say Stop,
don't do it--she's the wrong woman,
he's the wrong man, you are going to do things
you cannot imagine you would ever do,
you are going to do bad things to children,
you are going to suffer in ways you never heard of,
you are going to want to die. I want to go
up to them there in the late May sunlight and say it,
her hungry pretty blank face turning to me,
her pitiful beautiful untouched body,
his arrogant handsome blind face turning to me,
his pitiful beautiful untouched body,
but I don't do it. I want to live. I
take them up like the male and female
paper dolls and bang them together
at the hips like chips of flint as if to
strike sparks from them, I say
Do what you are going to do, and I will tell about it ~ Sharon Olds

Nothing?Micheal!You're 'playing'!.IN PUBLIC? 'That's new?' Claire whisperd to shhane 'He hasn't played anywhere but our living room since-Teeth-in-neck mime 'You know Oliver' 'Oh.' micheal's face was turning pink.'just put it back,OK?It's no big deal! Eve kissed him. ~ Rachel Caine

Narknon put a paw on Harry's chest and began licking her face; a hunting-cat's tongue is much harsher than a housecat's. Harry thought her skin would crumble and peel off, but she didn't have the strength to push her away. ~ Robin McKinley

We need to talk face-to-face, so I can explain to you I don't want you in my shit."
"You already did that face-to-face, and right now you're doin' it over the phone. But, babe, it needs to sink in we don't agree. I'm in. With your work schedule, mine, and the fact you need to spend time with your kid, we get face-to-face time, we'll be face-to-face with you on your back and me movin' inside you. ~ Kristen Ashley

When he reached her, he touched a hand to her face. Smiled. "Important. That's one word. Everything. That's another. Loved," he said, adding the most important word of all. "God, Darcy, you are so loved. ~ Cindy Gerard

Russia, Russia unwashed, backward, appealing Russia, so ashamed of your own backwardness, so orientally determined to conceal it from us by clever deceit. So sensitive and so suspicious in the face of the wicked, civilized west. I shall always remember you slyly, touchingly, but with great shouting and confusion pumping hot water into our sleeping car in the frosty darkness of a December morning in order that we might not know, in order that we might never realize, to how primitive a land we had come. ~ George F. Kennan

One of the things that all authors of fiction must learn to judge is whether - and in what detail - to describe the face of a character. ~ Lynne Truss

Ross held her face between his hands and kissed her. He tasted doubt on her tongue and pain on the roof of her mouth. He swallowed these, and drank again. Consumed, she had no choice but to see how empty he was inside, and how, sip by sip, she filled him. ~ Jodi Picoult

It may not feel too classy, begging just to eat
But you know who does that?
Lassie, and she always gets a treat

So you wonder what your part is
Because you're homeless and depressed But home is where the heart is
So your real home's in your chest

Everyone's a hero in their own way Everyone's got villains they must face
They're not as cool as mine
But folks you know it's fine to know your place

Everyone's a hero in their own way
In their own not-that-heroic way
So I thank my girlfriend Penny
Yeah, we totally had sex
She showed me there's so many different muscles I can flex

There's the deltoids of compassion,
There's the abs of being kind
It's not enough to bash in heads
You've got to bash in minds

Everyone's a hero in their own way Everyone's got something they can do Get up go out and fly
Especially that guy, he smells like poo

Everyone's a hero in their own way
You and you and mostly me and you
I'm poverty's new sheriff
And I'm bashing in the slums
A hero doesn't care if you're a bunch of scary alcoholic bums

Everybody!

Everyone's a hero in their own way Everyone can blaze a hero's trail
Don't worry if it's hard
If you're not a friggin 'tard you will prevail

Everyone's a hero in their own way Everyone's a hero in their... ~ Joss Whedon

When she brought her lips back closer to his face, his eyelids flickered and shut for a moment. In a swift motion he rolled on top of her, and his mouth was on hers before she could make a sound. His hand pressed on her lower back, tracing the curve of her waist. She felt the heat building inside her and the goosebumps rising on her arm. His other hand slowly moved upward, until his fingers flexed back and forth in her hair. ~ A.O. Peart

The Fire

When a human is asked about a particular fire,
she comes close:
then it is too hot,
so she turns her face -

and that's when the forest of her bearable life appears,
always on the other side of the fire. The fire
she's been asked to tell the story of,
she has to turn from it, so the story you hear
is that of pines and twitching leaves
and how her body is like neither -

all the while there is a fire
at her back
which she feels in fine detail,
as if the flame were a dremel
and her back its etching glass.

You will not know all about the fire
simply because you asked.
When she speaks of the forest
this is what she is teaching you,

you who thought you were her master. ~ Katie Ford

God uses people to help others. I only pray my faith is strong enough to get me through what I have to face. ~ Jennifer Hudson Taylor