Talking In Bed Quotes

It becomes still more difficult to find
Words at once true and kind,
Or not untrue and not unkind. ~ Philip Larkin

When I stay with the couple who are my closest friends, I hear them laughing and talking in bed, and sometimes in the middle of the night one of them goes down and makes tea, and when the clock goes off in the morning, they start again, talking to each other. ~ Nuala O'Faolain

I am interested in levels of brain discourse. How articulate are the voices in your head? You know, there's a different voice for the phone, and a different voice if you're talking in bed. When you're starting off with a narrator, it's interesting to think, where is their voice coming from, what part of their brain? ~ Anne Enright

Someone who butts in when you're talking and smugly provides the ending herself. Indeed anyone who butts in, be they child or adult, is most infuriating. ~ Sei Shonagon

Some sensible person once remarked that you spend the whole of your life either in your bed or in your shoes. Having done the best you can by shoes and bed, devote all the time and resources at your disposal to the building up of a fine kitchen. It will be, as it should be, the most comforting and comfortable room in the house. ~ Elizabeth David

You're not a woman I'll ever want in my bed. ~ Nalini Singh

I don't think it's too late for 'The War of the Worlds' to come true. I'm talking about it from the standpoint that which you need to have and own things - to breed, to think, to create - is going on everywhere, not just on this planet or in the space around it. ~ Dwight Schultz

And the third is from him: "Second date?"
I immediately text him back: "Hell yeah!"
Then I collapse on my bed and enjoy that "butterflies in the stomach" feeling. I've felt the butterflies before from time to time, but this is the first time I haven't sort of wanted to attack them with a flyswatter. ~ Adam Selzer

He loomed over her, his eyes dark, his expression implacable. "You are wearing my ring, Maggie Windham." "I am wearing your ring because you were hen-witted enough to sneak it onto my night table when I was too overset to notice, and I did not want to lose it, and leaving expensive jewelry around where any maid might misplace - " But now the handsome wretch was smiling down at her. "Hen-witted, Maggie? I kiss your cheek in parting, slip a ring onto your night table, and you say I'm the one who's rendered hen-witted?" "It's one of Her Grace's words. When she uses it on the boys, they positively reel with abused dignity." "Reel into bed, Maggie, and expect me to call on you quite early tomorrow." It ~ Grace Burrowes

People love to talk but hate to listen. Listening is not merely not talking, though even that is beyond most of our powers; it means taking a vigorous, human interest in what is being told us. You can listen like a blank wall or like a splendid auditorium where every sound comes back fuller and richer. ~ Alice Duer Miller

She smiled. "You're very sweet." "Now you go too far - " She shoved her hand under his nose. "This is your ring you see, my lord, and that gives me the right to tell you to be quiet. So, be quiet. I'll probably be back to thinking you're a jerk tomorrow, so live with the compliment while it's still in force. Got it?" He grumbled something she didn't catch. But then, to her utter surprise, he brought her hand to his lips and kissed it in a rough, Richardy kind of way. Then he dropped it as if it had been a hot potato, set her on her feet, then leaned his head back against the chair and pretended to snore. Jessica went to bed with a smile on her face. ~ Lynn Kurland

She could not bear to lie in bed and wait, so she pestered the nurse until she could sit on a veranda, screened by a thick curtain of golden shower from the street, because she could assure herself she was not blind by looking through her glowing eyelids at the light from the sky. She sat there all day, and felt the waves of heat and perfume break across her in shock after shock of shuddering nostalgia. But nostalgia for what? ~ Doris Lessing

I think anytime we talk about transforming in capitalist society, we are talking about a process not a particular event so you can't talk about a socialist revolution. ~ Cornel West

It's really hard to get any work done in my apartment when my bed is also in my apartment. ~ Sasheer Zamata

Speeches are more important in politics than talking points, as a rule, and are better remembered. ~ Peggy Noonan

Women are like that they don't acquire knowledge of people we are for that they are just born with a practical fertility of suspicion that makes a crop every so often and usually right they have an affinity for evil for supplying whatever the evil lacks in itself for drawing it about them instinctively as you do bed-clothing in slumber fertilizing the mind for it until the evil has served its purpose whether it ever existed or no. ~ William Faulkner

Theresa strode over to us in a swish of cloth. "Enough of this, animator. He can't do it, so he pays the price. Either leave now, or join us at our ... feast."
Are you having rare Who-roast-beast?" I asked.
What are you talking about?"
It's from Dr. Seuss, How the Grinch Stole Christmas. You know the part, 'And they'd Feast! Feast! Feast! Feast! Feast! They would feast on Who-pudding and rare Who-roast-beast.'"
You are crazy."
So I've been told. ~ Laurell K. Hamilton

I don't think I was talking specifically about Steve Jobs. It was just a general philosophy about one person grows up and he's kind of managing companies and every day he's working making sure this is in place and that's in place. ~ Steve Wozniak

Like it or not, you are a part of the workings of this kingdom - and you produce effects even if you stay in bed. If you do nothing, then the problems are as much your fault as if you had instigated them. ~ Brandon Sanderson

But that was where his excitement began to melt into cold anxiety. His dad had been the Gryffindor Seeker, the youngest one in Hogwarts history. The best he, James, could hope for was to match that record. That's what everyone would expect of him, the first-born son of the famous hero. He remembered the story, told to him dozens of times (although never by his own dad) of how the young Harry Potter had won his first Golden Snitch by virtually jumping off his broom, catching the golden ball in his mouth and nearly swallowing it. The tellers of the tale would always laugh uproariously, delightedly, and if Dad was there, he'd smile sheepishly as they clapped him on the back. When James was four, he found that famed Snitch in a shoe box in the bottom of the dining room hutch. His mum told him it'd been a gift to Dad from the old school headmaster. The tiny wings no longer worked, and the golden ball had a thin coat of dust and tarnish on it, but James was mesmerized by it. It was the first Snitch he had ever seen close up. It seemed both smaller and larger than he'd imagined, and the weight of it in his small hand was surprising. This is the famous Snitch, James thought reverently, the one from the story, the one caught by my dad. He asked his dad if he could keep it, stored in the shoebox when he wasn't playing with it, in his room. His dad agreed easily, happily, and James moved the shoebox from the bottom of the hutch to a spot under the head of his bed, next to his toy broom. ~ G. Norman Lippert

I can't help but notice that in a society obsessed with fat - so eager in the appellation, so vocal in its disapproval - the only people who aren't talking about it are the only people whose business it really is. ~ Caitlin Moran

Multiculturalism is only in the West. We are absorbing a large number of Muslims in the west and at the same time the Christians and the Jews and other minorities are fleeing the Middle East, churches are being burnt, nobody is talking about it. Where are the religious freedom of the minorities. ~ Mark Durie

A brief hush fell over the table when the guy from the bar approached. After he finished depositing their drinks in the center of the table, Lynn jumped on the opportunity to flirt, winking and smiling prettily at him. "Thanks, cowboy."
"Cowboy?" Reaching for her appletini, Piper laughed.
Lynn shrugged. "When I picture him in my bed, I see a Stetson and a saddle."
Something well-known among their group, ever since she watched John Travolta in Urban Cowboy, she was on a mission to secure herself her very own cowboy.
"I bet you see a branding iron too," Jules snickered.
Lynn's thoughtful gaze trailed after him as the bartender returned to making drinks. ~ J.C. Valentine

Your a member? I think at him incredulously.
He blinks in surprise that I am talking to him via brain. That it could be that easy, between us, when it's so hard with everyone else.
Yes. As of his morning.
And how does one become a member exactly?
You make a promise to serve the light. To fight for the side of good.
I thought they said they don't fight.
He gives me the mental equivalent of a shrug.
And that's what you did this morning?
Yes, he says unwaveringly. I took an oath.
And so the revelations keep on coming. ~ Cynthia Hand

I feel like one of the three bears right now. Goldilocks, is that you sleeping in my bed? ~ Melissa Cutler

Seems a lot of men never saw one such as me. A girl what could keep up and fight and ride and curse with the best of them. A girl what ain't trapped in some dress or some house or some bed. A girl what ain't waiting on some man to do what she ought to her own damn self. ~ J.D. Jordan

Marion does not talk much. But when she does talk she swears a lot more. There is a joy she takes in swearing which I suspect she inherited from her aunt Grace. She likes the word 'motherfucker' in particular (not that this particular one was around in her aunt's day). Everything is a motherfucker. For instance, the TV is a motherfucker. (There is 'never anything on the motherfucker'.) Her shoes are motherfuckers. The American president is a motherfucker. Weaving yarn through a loom is a motherfucker. Bertrand Russell's History of Western Philosophy is a motherfucker. ~ Matt Haig

I see us milling around our lockers in Tri-County High, laughing and joking and making plans for the weekend, whispering about girls and sex and other undiscovered territories, slapping five, talking cool, dreaming our pretty little high school dreams. ~ James Michael Rice

Now, we struggle, brothers and sisters, and we strive. We have our trials and our tribulations but we are blessed. We go to bed, praise Jesus, and we rise again in the morning. And if that's not a blessing, I don't know what is. ~ Ayana Mathis

Here was intellectual life, he thought, and here was beauty, warm and wonderful as he had never dreamed it could be. He forgot himself and stared at her with hungry eyes. Here was something to live for, to win to, to fight for - ay, and die for. The books were true. There were such women in the world. She was one of them. She lent wings to his imagination, and great, luminous canvases spread themselves before him whereon loomed vague, gigantic figures of love and romance, and of heroic deeds for woman's sake - for a pale woman, a flower of gold. And through the swaying, palpitant vision, as through a fairy mirage, he stared at the real woman, sitting there and talking of literature and art. He listened as well, but he stared, unconscious of the fixity of his gaze or of the fact that all that was essentially masculine in his nature was shining in his eyes. But she, who knew little of the world of men, being a woman, was keenly aware of his burning eyes. She had never had men look at her in such fashion, and it embarrassed her. She stumbled and halted in her utterance. The thread of argument slipped from her. He frightened her, and at the same time it was strangely pleasant to be so looked upon. Her training warned her of peril and of wrong, subtle, mysterious, luring; while her instincts rang clarion-voiced through her being, impelling her to hurdle caste and place and gain to this traveller from another world, to this uncouth young fellow with lacerated hands and a line of ra ~ Jack London

Just because you've only been alive for fifteen years doesn't mean you're less anything except old. That's all it means. It doesn't mean you're less experienced. It doesn't mean you're less intelligent. It doesn't mean you're less sensitive. It doesn't mean you take things less seriously. It's like, these are younger human beings, meaning don't, because they're only ten, start thinking that they don't know what you're talking about -because they do. Don't leave people out in the cold, and don't talk down to people -don't. It never works out. ~ Judd Nelson

I find all of this very confusing."
"You get in my bed, I'll sort you out."
"You're that good?"
"Yeah, I am, baby. I will take care of you there in all the ways you need me to do it. That I can guarantee. ~ Kristen Ashley

I had people in 'Entertainment Weekly' talking about how they wanted to throttle me because they thought I was too disgustingly cute, as if that were my fault, you know, as if that was my fault, not the fault of directors and producers and such. ~ Mara Wilson

I'm talking to myself in two different personas now. I'm reaching for a full-throttle meltdown and why not? Why stop halfway? Why not just go for it, jump on and ride the wave? ~ C.K. Kelly Martin

Yet when God entered time and became a man, he who was boundless became bound. Imprisoned in flesh. Restricted by weary-prone muscles and eyelids. For more than three decades, his once limitless reach would be limited to the stretch of an arm, his speed checked to the pace of human feet.
I wonder, was he ever tempted to regain his boundlessness? In the middle of a long trip, did he ever consider transporting himself to the next city? When the rain chilled his bones, was he tempted to change the weather? When the heat parched his lips, did he give thought to popping over to the Caribbean for some refreshment?
If he ever entertained such thoughts, he never gave into them. Not once. Stop and think about this. Not once did Christ use his supernatural powers for personal comfort.
With one word, he could've transformed the hard earth into a soft bed, but he didn't. With a wave of his hands, he could've boomeranged the spit of his accusers back into their faces, but he didn't. With an arch of his brow, he could've paralyzed the hand of the soldier as he braided the crown of thorns. But he didn't. ~ Max Lucado

Mad Girl's Love Song
I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead;
I lift my lids and all is born again.
(I think I made you up inside my head.)
The stars go waltzing out in blue and red,
And arbitrary blackness gallops in:
I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead.
I dreamed that you bewitched me into bed
And sung me moon-struck, kissed me quite insane.
(I think I made you up inside my head.)
God topples from the sky, hell's fires fade:
Exit seraphim and Satan's men:
I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead.
I fancied you'd return the way you said,
But I grow old and I forget your name.
(I think I made you up inside my head.)
I should have loved a thunderbird instead;
At least when spring comes they roar back again.
I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead.
(I think I made you up inside my head.) ~ Sylvia Plath

Intelligent, artistic, hard-working, well-mannered, educated, decent... good! Strong! Masculine! What else... Oh yes! Good-looking, sexy, experienced, exceptionally knowledgeable in bed, always fashionable, stylish, fragrant, flawless, faultless, I'm-just-perfect Alex!
And me? I'm just like everyone else: a cocktail of virtues and shortcomings served with a couple of flaws. And that's why this superhuman is starting to infuriate me. I desperately want to hurt his feelings or at least offend him in some way. This seems like an unhealthy reaction at first glance but is actually completely healthy, because next to people like him – if others like him even exist – you feel more awkward, more flawed, more stupid, and more subhuman than ever. ~ Victoria Sobolev

Now Mrs. Greensleeve, who knew that she was going to die, thought of death in the same way a nightbound wanderer in the rain looks forward to a soft bed. ~ Gerald Kersh

In a couple of decades you have half of the wells that are drilled right now, and you're talking about numbers in the millions of wells drilled, leaking. That's a huge crisis in terms of water contamination. There's no way to fix that problem. ~ Josh Fox

There are things so horrible that even the dark is afraid of them. Most people don't know this and this is just as well because the world could not really operate if everyone stayed in bed with the blankets over their head, which is what would happen if people knew what horrors lay a shadow's width away. ~ Terry Pratchett

More than that, though, it gained a definite spiritual chill. Malevolent energy hovered around us, slow and thick like half-frozen honey. There was a gloating, miserly quality to it, bringing to my mind images of old Smaug lying in covetous slumber upon his bed of treasure. ~ Jim Butcher

Love was nothing but a lie people told themselves.
But lust?
Lust was real, and he was feeling it. Feeling it to his core. As he held her to him, his blood pounded with the fiercest, most primal kind of need. One that spoke of possession and claiming and mine.
She made him wild.
Surely it was simply because he'd gone so long without female company. Madeline wasn't even his usual sort. Given his choice, he would have said he favored a bonny Scots lass with fiery hair and a knowing gleam in her eye. Not a shy, proper English gentlewoman just learning the taste of her first kiss.
But beneath the shyness and reserve, she possessed a natural, earthy sensuality. He couldn't help but think of what that might mean in bed- when all the rules and corsets were shed, and the dark freed her from propriety. ~ Tessa Dare

Somehow, we were passing the boundaries of language and finding clarity in shared thought, even if we were just talking about beer! ~ Gerry Abbey

Hugging trees has a calming effect on me. I'm talking about enormous trees that will be there when we are all dead and gone. I've hugged trees in every part of this little island. ~ Gerry Adams

i remember el salvador, /n it's horse shit, like i tell you.
i stopped chasing the messiahs /n madonnas - wised up,
set myself straight.
i've laid em /n balled em in every half-way house south of biloxi,
every 10 cent bed west of tulsa, fucked /n slobbered myself stupid on swingsets, greyhounds
/n gas station floors the world over.
i've split em in half
from head to ass
in elevator shafts, plus-size fitting rooms,
in the lobbies of sheraton inns
/n kfc parking lots - fucked em everywhere
every way that i could.
someone else can fuck em now.
i'm done w/ el salvador.
i know her militias
her perfume, munitions,
her missing hubcaps /n posters of paris.
i know her goyas, her barricades,
her paintboxes
/n bookshelves
of baudelaire,
her banners, her bullshit /n paris can keep her. ~ Brandon Thomas DiSabatino

Have you ever been in love, Alison?" He leaned in and draped his arm along the back of her chair. "I'm not talking about a crush or infatuation. I'm talking about where you'd do anything for someone. Can't stop thinking about them. Be there if they were sick or just needed a shoulder to lean on. Someone you wanted to wake up to every single day and couldn't wait until you saw them again at night. Someone who made you feel like you're everything you've ever wanted to be. ~ Candis Terry

I feed Volnay, who eats in her unusual way, delicately removing one piece of kibble at a time from her bowl, placing it on the little rug that serves as her dining room, and then eating it before going back in for a second piece of kibble. It takes her the better part of thirty minutes to finish her bowl. I'm sure if she had thumbs, she'd be patting her chin with a linen napkin after every morsel. When she finishes, she hits the water bowl. Silently. No one can figure out how she drinks, she sort of purses her lips and sucks, none of that slurping and splashing that accompany most dogs' drinking. She is a stealth drinker. When she finishes, she heads to her little bed in the corner of the kitchen to groom her fur a bit. Lovely girl. ~ Stacey Ballis

And it's a preference, a long-held preference, what you might call a 'habit of mind' - putting words into other people's mouths. And those people are played by people whose profession is to pretend to be other people. For which purpose, they adopt gestures, voices, intonations, even sexual attitudes not their own. On stage, they affect to be ravished and amused by someone whom they will, afterwards, run a mile to avoid having dinner with. Likewise, they spit torrents of abuse against an actor who later, later, in the softness of the night, they will share their bed with. ~ David Hare

Talking aloud to oneself is usually indicative of a mental malady. Self-talk is also the stock in trade of an essay writer. ~ Kilroy J. Oldster

Besides" - Jasper smiled, teeth pearly white and predatory - "it'll be a cold day in hell when I complain about having a hot piece like you in my bed. ~ Melissa Grey

Kingsley woke up that morning and decided to fuck the first girl who'd let him. Luckily there was a girl conveniently located in his bed. Who she was he didn't quite remember, but it didn't really matter. ~ Tiffany Reisz

I want to be awful. I want to do awful things and why not? Dull is dull is dull is my life. Like now, it's night, not yet time for bed but too late to be outside, and the two of them reading reading reading with their eyes moving like the lights inside a copy machine. When I was helping put the dishes in the washer tonight, I broke a plate. I said sorry Ma it slipped. But it didn't slip, that's how I am sometimes, and I want to be worse. ~ Victor Lodato