Not Speaking Ill Of Others Quotes

When really writing I'm not a good friend. Because writing disorganizes the social self, you become atomized. It scrambles you, sometimes to the point that I'm incapable of speech. I feel that if I start speaking, I'll lose the writing, like getting off the treadmill. ~ Tony Kushner

What ever happened to creativity? What ever happened to the passion? What ever happened to speaking ones mind? I'll tell you what happened. The kids aged, but never grew up. A baby can whine if it does not like something because it doesn't know better. What's your excuse? Stop getting offended whenever the wind blows your hair the wrong way! We will get nowhere if we continue to avoid truths to avoid offense. Speak your mind and do not be afraid of stepping on toes. The truth can be ugly, and that's what makes it so beautiful. Speak your mind, but don't take this as a chance to lose respect either. Always keep respect. If someone then still claims to be offended, it is not because of you, nor is it your fault. They simply don't like the taste of the bittersweet truth. ~ Caitlyn Paige

Strictly speaking, the mass, as a psychological fact, can be defined without waiting for individuals to appear in mass formation. In the presence of one individual we can decide whether he is "mass" or not. The mass is all that which sets no value on itself good or ill based on specific grounds, but which feels itself "just like everybody," and nevertheless is not concerned about it; is, in fact, quite happy to feel itself as one with everybody else. ~ Jose Ortega Y Gasset

Were the situation not so completely to her disadvantage, she might have enjoyed the prospect of Simon Hunt rendered absolutely speechless.
At first his face was blank, as if he was having tremendous difficulty absorbing the fact that she was standing before him dressed only in a chemise, corset, and drawers. His gaze slid over her, slowly coming to rest on her flushed face. Another moment or two of suffocated silence, and Hunt swallowed hard before speaking in a rusty-sounding voice. "I probably shouldn't ask. But what the hell are you doing?"
The words unlocked Annabelle from her paralysis. She certainly could not stand there and converse with him while she was clad in her undergarments. But her dignity - or the threads that remained of it - demanded that she not screech idiotically and dash for her clothes the way Evie and Daisy were doing. Settling for a compromise, she strode briskly to her discarded gown and clasped it to her front as she turned to face Simon Hunt once more. "We're playing Rounders," she said, her voice far higher-pitched than usual.
Hunt glanced around the scene before settling on her again. "Why did you - "
"One can't run properly in skirts," Annabelle interrupted. "I should think that would be obvious."
Absorbing that, Hunt averted his face swiftly, but not before she saw the sudden flash of his grin. "Never having tried it, I'll have to take your word on that. ~ Lisa Kleypas

Cool. I'm Kathryn, but everyone calls me Kat. And do not make any cat jokes or I'll have to hurt you. With my claws." she waved the long, blunt tips of her fingers at me. "Truth be told, I stopped speaking meow a long time ago." speaking meow? "I'm guessing calling you pretty kitty is out. ~ Gena Showalter

Speaking of chocolate, what kind of cake are we having for the shower?"
"I don't know."
Sincerely shocked, Peabody jerked around in her seat. "You didn't get cake?"
"I don't know. Probably." Because the idea of the shower, what she had to do, hadn't done, should do, made her stomach jitter, Eve squirmed. "Look, I called the caterer, okay? I did it myself. I didn't dump it on Roarke, I didn't ask - God forbid - Summerset to handle it."
"Well, what did you ask for? What's the theme?"
The jitters escalated into a roiling. "What do you mean, theme?"
"You don't have a theme? How can you have a baby shower without a theme?"
"Jesus Christ, I need a theme? I don't even know what that means. I called the caterer. I did my job. I told her it was a baby shower. I told her how many people, more or less. I told her when and where. She started asking me all kinds of questions, which gives me a fucking headache, and I told her not to ask me all kinds of questions or she was fired. Just to do whatever needed doing. Why isn't that enough?"
Peabody's sigh was long and heartfelt. "Give me the caterer's info, and I'll check in with her. Does she do the decorations, too?"
"Oh, my God. I need decorations?"
"I'm going to help you, Dallas. I'm going to run interference with the caterer. I'm going to come over early on the day and help get it set up."
Eve narrowed her eyes and tried to ignore the joy and relief bubbling in her breast. "And what's ~ J.D. Robb

I said, Quiet!"
Tiffany was so much startled by this peremptory reminder that she gasped, and stood staring up at the Nonesuch as though she could not believe that he was speaking not to his cousin, but actually to her. She drew in her breath audibly, and clenched her hands. Miss Trent cast a look of entreaty at sir Waldo, but he ignored it. He strolled up to the infuriated beauty, and pushed up her chin.
"Now, you may listen to me, my child!" he said sternly. "You are becoming a dead bore, and I don't tolerate bores. Neither do I tolerate noisy tantrums. Unless you want to be soundly smacked, enact me no ill-bred scenes!"
There was a moment's astonished silence. Laurence broke it, seizing his cousin's hand, and fervently shaking it.
"I knew you was a right one!" he declared. "A great gun, Waldo! Damme, a Trojan! ~ Georgette Heyer

Work is of two kinds: first, altering the position of matter at or near the earth's surface relatively to other such matter; second, telling other people to do so. The first kind is unpleasant and ill paid; the second is pleasant and highly paid. The second kind is capable of indefinite extension: there are not only those who give orders, but those who give advice as to what orders should be given. Usually two opposite kinds of advice are given simultaneously by two organized bodies of men; this is called politics. The skill required for this kind of work is not knowledge of the subjects as to which advice is given, but knowledge of the art of persuasive speaking and writing, i.e., of advertising. ~ Anonymous

Lacey said softly, "Tristan, you need to rest now. There's nothing you can do until you rest."

But he could not leave Ivy. He put his arms around her. She slipped through him and moved toward the bureau, taking the picture in her hands. He wrapped her in his arms again, but she only cried harder.

Then Ella was set lightly on the bureau top. Lacey's hands had done it. The cat rubbed up against Ivy's head.

"Oh, Ella, I don't know how to let go of him."

"Don't let go," Tristan begged.

"In the end, she must," Lacey warned.

"I've lost him, Ella, I know it. Tristan is dead. He can't hold me ever again. He can't think of me. He can't want me now. Love ends with death."

"It doesn't!" Tristan said. "I'll hold you again, I swear it, and you'll see that my love will never end."

"You're exhausted, Tristan," Lacey told him.

"I'll hold you, I'll love you forever!"

"If you don't rest now," Lacey said, "you'll become even more confused. It'll be hard to tell real from unreal, or to rouse yourself out of the darkness. Tristan, listen to me..."

But before she finished speaking, the darkness overtook him. ~ Elizabeth Chandler

If you hear that someone is speaking ill of you, instead of trying to defend yourself you should say: 'He obviously does not know me very well, since there are so many other faults he could have mentioned.' ~ Epictetus

Cam restored her clothing slowly, his strong hands lifting her from the beech. Crushing her close, he muttered something incomprehensible against her hair. Another spell to bind her, she thought hazily, her cheek pressed to his smooth, hard chest. "You're speaking in Romany," she mumbled.
Cam switched to English. "Amelia, I - " He stopped, as if the right words eluded him. "I can't stop myself from being jealous, any more than I can stop being half Roma. But I'll try not to be overbearing. Just say you'll be my wife."
"Please," Amelia whispered, her wits still scattered, "let me answer later. When I can think clearly."
"You do too much thinking." He kissed the top of her head. "I can't promise you a perfect life. But I can promise that no matter what happens, I'll give you everything I have. We'll be together. You inside me ... me inside you. ~ Lisa Kleypas

W turned on his heel and began walking toward the door at the far wall. And by walking I mean, of course, not moving at all, at least not to the naked eye, because his strides could only be measured in micrometers. His creaky legs made barely the tiniest of forward steps, so he'd taken four strides before I noticed any lateral movement at all.
"I'll be right back."
"Geologically speaking, of course," HARV said. ~ John Zakour

JOHN: I'll tell you a story about myself. Do you mind? I was raised to think myself stupid. That's what I want to tell you.

CAROL: What do you mean?

JOHN: Just what I said. I was brought up, and my earliest, and most persistent memories are of being told that I was stupid. "You have such intelligence. Why must you behave so stupidly?" Or, "Can't you understand? Can't you understand?" And I could not understand. I could not understand.

CAROL: What?

JOHN: The simplest problem. Was beyond me. It was a mystery.

CAROL: What was a mystery?

JOHN: How people learn. How I could learn. Which is what I've been speaking of in class. And of course, you can't hear it. Carol. Of course, you can't. (Pause) I used to speak of "real people," and wonder what the real people did. The real people. Who were they? They were the people other than myself. The good people. The capable people. The people who could do the things, I could not do: learn, study, retain ... all that garbage – which is what I have been talking of in class, and that's exactly what I have been talking of – If you are told ... Listen to this. If the young child is told, he cannot understand. Then he takes it as a description of himself. What am I? I am that which cannot understand. And I saw you out there, when we were speaking of the concepts of...

CAROL: I can't understand any of them.

JOHN: Well, then, that's my fault. That's not your fau ~ David Mamet

Hold childhood in reverence, and do not be in any hurry to judge it for good or ill. Leave exceptional cases to show themselves, let their qualities be tested and confirmed, before special methods are adopted. Give nature time to work before you take over her business, lest you interfere with her dealings. You assert that you know the value of time and are afraid to waste it. You fail to perceive that it is a greater waste of time to use it ill than to do nothing, and that a child ill taught is further from virtue than a child who has learnt nothing at all. You are afraid to see him spending his early years doing nothing. What! is it nothing to be happy, nothing to run and jump all day? He will never be so busy again all his life long. Plato, in his Republic, which is considered so stern, teaches the children only through festivals, games, songs, and amusements. It seems as if he had accomplished his purpose when he had taught them to be happy; and Seneca, speaking of the Roman lads in olden days, says, "They were always on their feet, they were never taught anything which kept them sitting." Were they any the worse for it in manhood? Do not be afraid, therefore, of this so-called idleness. What would you think of a man who refused to sleep lest he should waste part of his life? You would say, "He is mad; he is not enjoying his life, he is robbing himself of part of it; to avoid sleep he is hastening his death." Remember that these two cases are alike, and that childhood is t ~ Jean-Jacques Rousseau

Strictly speaking, one cannot legislate love, but what one can do is legislate fairness and justice. If legislation does not prohibit our living side by side, sooner or later your child will fall on the pavement and I'll be the one to pick her up. Or one of my children will not be able to get into the house and you'll have to say, "Stop here until your mom comes here." Legislation affords us the chance to see if we might love each other. ~ Maya Angelou

So!" Jack said, clapping his hands and grinning at me. "We ready to go? What's the transportation plan?"
"I guess I'll go with Reth, and - "
Lend shouted, "No, you're not going anywhere alone with Reth."
"Fine, I'll go with Jack, and - "
"That doesn't work for me either."
I laughed drily. "Okay then, I'll click my heels together three times and say, 'There's no place like the Center, there's no place like the Center,' and then magically appear there!"
He was quiet for a few seconds. "You'll probably be safer with Reth." It sounded like he was speaking through clenched teeth. "And I can keep a better eye on Jack."
"Well, I for one am thrilled to spend more time with Lend. That's the top of my Fun Things to Do list. We should come up with a secret handshake!" Jack said, pushing me to the side and throwing the door open, which resulted in Lend falling to the floor immediately unconscious. "Oh, whoops." Jack smiled, his eyes gleaming. "Too bad, I like him so much when he's talking."
"Very funny. Keep him safe, okay? I don't Raquel's in the Iron Wing - she would have heard me shouting. Look anywhere you can think of. They might have her in a random room somewhere. We'll meet in Raquel's old office in two hours, whether we've found anything or not."
He nodded, not looking at me as he poked Lend repeatedly with his foot.
"And, Jack? That threat Reth made about your hands? I'm going to apply it to Lend, too. Keep him safe. Or else. ~ Kiersten White

Speaking of, "When is your birthday?" Strider asked Kaia.
Wide silver-gold eyes swung to him. "You don't know?"
"No."
Pouting, she twirled a strand of her hair. "How can you not know?"
"Do you know mine?" he asked.
"Of course I do. It's the day you met me.
As good a day as any. "No, it's not, because that was a trick question, baby doll. I don't actually have a birthday. I was created fully formed, not born." True story.
"You can be such a moron." She threw up her arms, exasperated. "Don't argue with me about this kind of thing. I'll always be right. Seriously. You were dead until you met me and we both know it. Which means I brought you to life. So, happy belated birthday. ~ Gena Showalter

Mr Kingsley begins then by exclaiming- 'O the chicanery, the wholesale fraud, the vile hypocrisy, the conscience-killing tyranny of Rome! We have not far to seek for an evidence of it. There's Father Newman to wit: one living specimen is worth a hundred dead ones. He, a Priest writing of Priests, tells us that lying is never any harm.'
I interpose: 'You are taking a most extraordinary liberty with my name. If I have said this, tell me when and where.'
Mr Kingsley replies: 'You said it, Reverend Sir, in a Sermon which you preached, when a Protestant, as Vicar of St Mary's, and published in 1844; and I could read you a very salutary lecture on the effects which that Sermon had at the time on my own opinion of you.'
I make answer: 'Oh...NOT, it seems, as a Priest speaking of Priests-but let us have the passage.'
Mr Kingsley relaxes: 'Do you know, I like your TONE. From your TONE I rejoice, greatly rejoice, to be able to believe that you did not mean what you said.'
I rejoin: 'MEAN it! I maintain I never SAID it, whether as a Protestant or as a Catholic.'
Mr Kingsley replies: 'I waive that point.'
I object: 'Is it possible! What? waive the main question! I either said it or I didn't. You have made a monstrous charge against me; direct, distinct, public. You are bound to prove it as directly, as distinctly, as publicly-or to own you can't.'
'Well,' says Mr Kingsley, 'if you are quite sure you did not say it, I'll take your word for it; I rea ~ John Henry Newman

The savage rushing of the river seemed to be inside her head, inside her body. Even when the oarswomen, their guides, were speaking to her, she had the impression she couldn't quite hear them because of the roar. Not of the river that did indeed roar, just behind them, close to the simple shelter they'd made for her, but because of an internal roar as of the sound of a massive accumulation of words, spoken all at once, but collected over a lifetime, now trying to leave her body. As they rose to her lips, and in response to the question: Do you want to go home? she leaned over a patch of yellow grass near her elbow and threw up.
All the words from decades of her life filled her throat. Words she had said or had imagined saying or had swallowed before saying to her father, dead these many years. All the words to her mother. To her husbands. Children. Lovers. The words shouted back at the television set, spreading its virus of mental confusion.
Once begun, the retching went on and on. She would stop, gasping for breath, rest a minute, and be off again. Draining her body of precious fluid... Soon, exhausted, she was done.
No, she had said weakly, I don't want to go home. I'll be all right now. ~ Alice Walker

Pen will no longer be your close guard, Lady," Mace said flatly.
"What?"
"Starting tonight, Elston will take over Pen's duties."
Kelsea turned to stare at Pen, who in turn stared at the floor."
"What's happened?" she demanded.
"I'll give you two a few minutes, but only a few," Mace replied, speaking to Pen. "After that, you will not be alone together again."
Pen nodded, but Kelsea turned on Mace.
"You don't make changes to my Guard behind my back, Lazarus! I didn't ask for a new close guard. This isn't your decision."
"No, Lady," Pen said. "It's mine. ~ Erika Johansen

Speaking of body decorations, I luuhhhvv your belly piercing!" Heeb said, looking at the gold ring in the center of her slim, tan waist. Despite the artic cold, Angelina had opted for a skin tight, black tube top that ended just above her belly, on the assumption that a warm cab, a winter coat, and a short wait to get into the club was an adequate frosty weather strategy. Heeb was still reverently staring at her belly when Angelina finally caught her breath from laughing.

"Do you really like it? You're just saying that so that you can check out my belly!"

"And what's so bad about that? I mean, didn't you get that belly piercing so that people would check out your belly?"

"No. I just thought it would look cool…Do you have any piercings?"

"Actually, I do," Heeb replied.

"Where?"

"My appendix."

"Huh?"

"I wanted to be the first guy with a pierced organ. And the appendix is a totally useless organ anyway, so I figured why the hell not?"

"That's pretty original," she replied, amused.

"Oh yeah. I've outdone every piercing fanatic out there. The only problem is when I have to go through metal detectors at the airport."

Angelina burst into laughs again, and then managed to say, "Don't you have to take it out occasionally for a cleaning?"

"Nah. I figure I'll just get it removed when my appendix bursts. It'll be a two for one operation, if you know what I m ~ Zack Love

Soldiers of the Ninth Century, I am your new centurion, Marcus Tribulus Corvus. From this moment I formally assume command of this century, and become responsible for every aspect of your well-being, discipline, training and readiness for war.'
He paused, looking to Dubnus, who drew a large breath and spat a stream of his native language at the troops.
'One fucking smile, cough or fart from any one of you cock jockeys, and I'll put my pole so far up that man's shithole that it won't even scrape onthe floor. This is your new centurion and you will treat him with the appropriate degree of respect if you don't want to lead short and very fucking interesting lives.'
He turned to Marcus and nodded, indicating that the Roman should continue.
'I can see from the state of your uniforms that you've been neglected, a state of affairs that I intend to address very shortly. I have yet to see your readiness for battle, but I can assure you that you will be combat ready in the shortest possible time. I do not intend to command a century that I would imagine is regarded as the laughing stock of its unit for any longer than I have to.'
Dubnus cast a pitying sneer over the faces in front of him before speaking again, watching their faces lengthen with the understanding of his methods, passed by whispered word of mouth from his previous century.
'You're not soldiers, you're a fucking waste of rations, a disgrace to the Tungrians! You look like shit, you smell lik ~ Anthony Riches

You're trying to be charming again," Shelby muttered.
"Am I succeeding?"
Some questions were best ignored. "I really don't know how to be more succinct, Alan."
Was that part of the appeal? he wondered. The fact that the free-spirited Gypsy could turn into the regal duchess in the blink of an eye. He doubted she had any notion she was as much one as the other. "You have a wonderful speaking voice.What time will you be ready?"
Shelby huffed and frowned and considered. "If I agree to spend some time with you today, will you stop sending me things?"
Alan was silent for a long moment. "Are you going to take a politician's word?"
Now she had to laugh. "All right, you've boxed me in on that one."
"It's a beautiful day, Shelby.I haven't had a free Saturday in over a month. Come out with me."
She twined the phone cord around her finger. A refusal seemed so petty, so bad-natured.He was really asking her for very little, and-dammit-she wanted to see him. "All right, Alan, every rule needs to be bent a bit now and again to prove it's really a rule after all."
"If you say so.Where would you like to go? There's an exhibition of Flemish art at the National Gallery."
Shelby's lips curved. "The zoo," she said and waited for his reaction.
"Fine," Alan agreed without missing a beat. "I'll be there in ten minutes."
With a sigh,Shelby decided he just wasn't an easy man to shake. "Alan, I'm not dressed."
"I'll be there in five."
Nora Roberts

This isn't the medieval era, my lord. I'll be damned if I need to put on a dog-and-pony show with a peer as part of a business deal."
"Speaking as the other half of the dog-and-pony show," Westcliff said sardonically, "I'm not fond of the idea either. ~ Lisa Kleypas

I love you," she said, speaking clearly so that there might be no confusion. "I love you utterly and completely. I love your elegant hands and the way you smile with only one side of your mouth - when you smile at all - and I love how grave your eyes are. I love that you let me invade your house with nearly my entire family and yours, and never even turned a hair. I love that you made love to me when I asked you, purely for politeness' sake, and I love that you got mad at me later and made me make love to you. I love that you let Her Grace and her puppies construct a nest out of your shirts in your dressing room. I love that you've spent years selflessly saving people in St. Giles - although I want you to stop right now. I love that you killed a man for me, even if I'm still mad at you about it. I love that you saved my letters before we even knew each other well, and I love the curt, overly serious letters you wrote to me in return."

She looked at him very seriously.

"I love you, Godric St. John, and now I'm breaking my word. I will not leave you. You may either come with me to Laurelwood or I'll stay here with you in your musty old house in London and drive you mad with all my talking and relatives and… and exotic sexual positions until you break down and love me back, for I'm warning you that I'm not giving up until you love me and we're a happy family with dozens of children."

She paused at that point because she'd run out of breath ~ Elizabeth Hoyt

Now, it is our understanding that his Majesty Grom is requesting an unsealing from his mating with the Common Paca?"
"That is correct," Antonis says, rolling his eyes. "Poseidon's beard, but this is repetitive."
Tandel ignores the elder king's bluster. "It is also our understanding that Prince Galen requests, in exchange for his help, and the help of Emma the Half-Breed, that he is permitted to mate with Emma as if she were full-blooded Syrena."
"You have that correct," Galen answers gruffly.
Tandel pauses. "And do the Royals have any more requests at this time?"
"Yes," Emma says, to Galen's surprise. She's never held back from speaking what's on her mind. But she never acknowledged herself as a Royal until now. "Because of my Half-breed status, and the fact that I've lived on land all my life, I would like for the Royals to be able to visit me here whenever they like. I know that under the current laws, that's not allowed, but I want that changed."
"You might as well agree to that, Tandel," Antonis says. "Or else you'll be holding another tribunal for the Royals, because all of us intend to be visiting land more often I think."
"Actually I won't be visiting land," Galen says. He turns to Emma. "I'll be living here." Tears pool in her eyes. He catches one sliding down her cheek and kisses it away. Her reaction just confirms what he'd suspected all along. That she's been worried about it. How it would work out between them, where would they l ~ Anna Banks

Dana daydreamed of one day being able to set her agenda at B.Altman with the same courage and tenacity as the woman who was now driving the VW while speaking animatedly about her travel plans for the near future. She would be journeying to India in search of exotic merchandise for the store's Indian extravaganza, a lavish event planned by Ira Neimark and Dawn Mello to compete with Bloomingdale's Retailing as Theater movement. The movement was the brainchild of Bloomingdale's Marvin Traub, who staged elaborate presentations such as China: Heralding the Dawn of a New Era. Typical extravaganzas featured fashion, clothing, food, and art from various regions of the world.
"I'll bring back enough items to make Bloomingdale's blush!" Nina said confidently. "And I'm not just talking sweaters, hats, and walking sticks. I'll stop first in the Himalayas and prowl the Landour Bazaar."
Lynn Steward ~ A Very Good Life ~ Lynn Steward

Tabitha blinked innocently. "Why is your consort speaking to me without my having addressed him first?" she asked Kaia. "Have you not taught him the proper order of things?"
So the little man wasn't supposed to speak to the women folk without an invitation? Screw that. "Just stay out of my head, Harpy, or I'll make sure you regret it. By the way, how's the leg?"
She hissed at him.
Win! ~ Gena Showalter

I do pinch myself, like when shows in non-English speaking countries are sold out, and people are singing my lyrics. I don't think I'll ever lose that; I'm always appreciative every day of the support I have as an artist, because I'm not a commercial artist. ~ Xavier Rudd

Dr Power stood up. "Because your staff are not components that can be fitted in, or replaced when they are unpredictable, or when they are simply being human. Because our patients are not playing a game called 'business' with profit and loss and winners and losers. Because patients have no choice, but to be patients and it's our privilege to be in a temporary position where we can help them. And, inevitably, when we ourselves fall ill; when we grow old, then we can only hope that we will receive the help we ourselves need in turn. Because that's the reality of life. And not some self-aggrandising game". - Dr Power, speaking in The Good Shepherd ~ Hugh Greene

Speaking of metaphor, the dative construction works with a number of verbs of communication, as in Ask me no questions, I'll tell you no lies and Sing me no song, read me no rhyme. It's as if we think of ideas as things, knowing as having, communicating as sending, and language as the package. This is sometimes called the conduit metaphor, and it can be seen in dozens of expressions for thinking, saying, and teaching. We gather our ideas to put them into words, and if our verbiage is not empty or hollow, we might get these ideas across to a listener, who can unpack our words to extract their content. ~ Steven Pinker