When Someone Talk Behind Your Back Quotes

What captivated me about you was that you opened the door to another world for me. The values that dominated my childhood had no place there. That world enchanted me. I could leave the real world behind and be someone else, without any ties or obligations. With you, I was elsewhere, in a foreign place, foreign to myself. You gave me access to another dimension when I'd always rejected any fixed identity and just worn different identities on top of each other, though none of them were mine.
By speaking to you in English, I made your language mine. I've continued to talk to you in English right up to this day, even when you answered me in French. For me, English, which I knew mainly through you and through books, was from the start like a private language that preserved our intimacy against the intrusion of the real world, and its prevailing social normals. I felt like I was building a protected and protective world with you. ~ Andre Gorz

One thing I do know about intimacy is that there are certain natural laws which govern the sexual experience of two people, and that these laws cannot be budged any more than gravity can be negotiated with. To feel physically comfortable with someone else's body is not a decision you can make. It has very little to do with how two people think or act or talk or even look. The mysterious magnet is either there, buried somewhere deep behind the sternum, or it is not. When it isn't there (as I have learned in the past, with heartbreaking clarity) you can no more force it to exist than a surgeon can force a patient's body to accept a kidney from the wrong donor. My friend Annie says it all comes down to one simple question: Do you want your belly pressed against this person's belly forever
or not? ~ Elizabeth Gilbert

There is a pain you can't think your way out of. You can't talk it away. If there was someone to talk to. You can walk. One foot the other foot. Breathe in breathe out. Drink from the stream. Piss. Eat the venison strips. And. You can't metabolize the loss. It is in the cells of your face, your chest, behind the eyes, in the twists of the gut. Muscles, sinew, bone. It is all of you.
When you walk you propel it forward. When you let the sled and sit on a fallen log and. You imagine him curling in the one patch of sun maybe lying over your feet. Then it sits with you, the Pain puts its arm over your shoulders. It is your closest friend. Steadfast. And at night you can't bear to hear your own breath unaccompanied by another and underneath the big stillness like a score is the roaring of the cataract of everything being and being torn away. Then. The Pain is lying beside your side, close. Does not bother you with sound even of breathing. ~ Peter Heller

Remember if people talk behind your back, it only means you are two steps ahead. ~ Fannie Flagg

If people talk behind your back, it's because you're ahead of them. ~ Zayn Malik

At the time of solitude, I went where Narmada was sleeping. She got awake and sat up. She neither got scared nor nervous but she immediately got off the bed. She kept both her hands tied on her chest. I was standing so close to her that my face was near her face. We could sense each other's breath.

I called out her name and could not speak anything else.

After a moment, I started - "I love you Narmada…I like to be with you…I want to marry you."

She got nervous and said - "Please, go to your room, why have you come here? It may cause trouble if Jaanki sees us like this." She was neck down. Her eyes were on the floor. Her heart was beating fast.

"Don't you want to talk to me? Why are you angry with me? Why don't you trust on my feelings for you?" - I softly asked her.

"I guess you don't like my friendship with Varsha. You and Varsha are poles apart." - I added.

She said - "You please go. It would not be nice if someone sees us like this. I do not want anything from you."

I said - "But I am dying for you and I know you too are made for me."

Her eyes suddenly fell on maid behind the curtains of the door who was trying to listen to our conversation. Narmada said - "You please leave right now, we'll talk later. Mom is not at home."

I went by on her prescriptive tone.

She was fighting for her self-being and the reason was only Varsha. She felt suffocated with my friendshi ~ Laxman Rao

There is nothing more cruel than talk, and there is nothing more difficult to combat. When people say things behind your back there is nothing you can refute or deny, and the rumours go on growing and growing, and no one can stop them. ~ Agatha Christie

You're only as sick as your secrets. Either it comes out their way or my way. I talk about myself behind my back. And I'm funny about it. ~ Carrie Fisher

I think I'll say goodnight here," Jack said.
"My dad's not so bad."
"Oh yeah,he was great...right up until the time I started dating his daughter."
I'd seen how my dad had become considerably colder toward Jack. There were little clues,like the other evening when out of nowhere he told Jack about how every football player he went to high school with had gotten fat after graduation.We'd been talking about what to make for dinner.
"Okay," I said. "Maybe next time." I leaned over to peck him on the cheek, but he grabbed my face in both of his hands and kissed me. His breath tasted like the mints the chaperones had passed out when the dance was over, and when he parted his lips against mine, I shivered, but not because of the cold. I pressed against him even more and hoped the dark inside the car obscured my dad's view.
But I knew better than to push it.As I was about to break away,Jack put his hands behind my waist and pulled me even closer,practically lifting me over the center console,so I was sitting in his lap.
I pulled back. "My dad's going to love that-"
He put his finger over my lips, cutting me off. "Please don't talk about your dad when I'm kissing you. Besides, unless he's enacted a law against it-"
"Which he may well do after tonight," I interrupted.
He smiled and then brought my face to his again for a few moments before finally releasing me.
"After that kiss,we'd better dream of the same thing tonight," he said with ~ Brodi Ashton

If you get criticized, good - I don't think people get criticized enough. People talk behind your back and they criticize you, but they don't often come up and say it to you. ~ Ian McKellen

My roommate has a gerbil," Ryan said, grinning. "The little guy got loose and crapped all over my bed. It's just been a crazy day."
Nodding at his silly story, I heard a familiar voice. "That's fucking fascinating," Judd said from behind me. "Then, what happened?"
Judd was stalking me apparently.
He pulled a chair to the table. "What are we having for dinner?"
"Who are you exactly?" Ryan asked.
"Tawny's man. I don't do names or handshakes, so save it, kid."
When Ryan looked at me for help, I shook my head. "I have no control over him. If I did, he wouldn't be here."
"Oh, don't be like that," Judd said, caressing the back of my hair. "I like that sweater on you. Very autumn. Looks good with your eyes."
"Please, go away."
"I can't. I'm your ride tonight."
"Should I leave?" Ryan asked.
Judd glanced at my date. "Just catch onto that, did you?"
Ryan stood up. "See you around, Tawny."
"Can't you stay and ignore him?"
Judd's eyes narrowed. "No, he can't."
"We can still talk," I said, praying Ryan would stay. "He might leave if we treat him like static in the background."
Ryan considered staying until Judd's amused expression faded. "She's not fucking you, if that's what you're holding out for. In fact, you ain't even getting a goodnight kiss. Well, unless you want that to be the last thing your lips ever do before I rip them off your face."
"I'm going to leave," Ryan said, giving me ~ Bijou Hunter

When you can't provide for them anymore, their true character comes out. They treat you like pure shit. To make matters worse, they talk trash behind your back, as if what you've done for them was useless. That's how some people are - they will use you up and break you down until you have nothing left to give them or yourself. People who do not have anything to lose will make sure you lose everything you've work so hard for. ~ Charlena E. Jackson

We got hungry around three in the morning, and ordered a ton of pizza from an all-night pizza place. Afterward, Blake talked a guy into letting him borrow his skateboard, and he once again entertained all of us. If it had wheels, Blake could work it.
"Is he your boyfriend?" a girl behind me asked.
I turned to the group of girls watching Blake. They were all coifed and beautiful in their bikinis, not having gone in the water. My wet hair was pulled back in a ponytail by this point and I was wrapped in a towel. "No, he's my boyfriend's best friend. We're watching his place while he's . . . out of town."
A pang of fear jabbed me when I thought about Kai.
"What's your name?" asked a brunette with glossy lips.
"Anna." I smiled.
"Hey. I'm Jenny," she said. "This is Daniela and Tara."
"Hey," I said to them.
"So, your boyfriend lives here?" asked the blonde, Daniela. She had a cool accent - something European.
"Yes," I answered, pointing up to his apartment.
The girls all shared looks, raising their sculpted eyebrows.
"Wait," said Jenny. "Is he that guy in the band?"
The third girl, named Tara, gasped. "The drummer?" When I nodded, they shared awed looks.
"Oh my gawd, don't get mad at me for saying this," said Jenny, "but he's a total piece of eye candy." Her friends all laughed.
"Yum drum," whispered Tara, and Daniela playfully shoved her.
Jenny got serious. "But don't worry. He, like, never comes out or talk ~ Wendy Higgins

I just want you to know that we didn't do anything but talk and sleep - sleep sleep," he quickly adds. "Like with eyes closed and hands to oneself and dreaming. Innocent dreams. I would never do anything behind your back. I mean, never anything dishonorable. I mean- ~ Stephanie Perkins

I wiped my eyes on my sleeve and jumped when I turned and found Ren's brother standing behind me as a man.
Ren got up, alert, and watched him carefully, suspicious of Kishan's every move. Ren's tail twitched back and forth, and a deep grumble issued from his chest.
Kishan look down at Ren, who had crept even closer to keep an eye on him, and then looked back at me. He reached out his hand, and when I placed mine in it, he lifted it to his lips and kissed it, then bowed deeply with great aplomb. "May I ask your name?"
"My name is Kelsey. Kelsey hayes."
"Kelsey. Well, I, for one, appreciate all the efforts you have made on our behalf. I apologize if I frightened you earlier. I am," he smiled, "out of practice in conversing with young ladies. These gifts you will be offering to Durga. Would you kindly tell me more about them?"
Ren growled unhappily.
I nodded. "Is Kishan your given name?"
"My full name is actually Sohan Kishan Rajaram, but you can call me Kishan if you like." He smiled a dazzling white smile, which was even more brilliant due to the contrast with his dark skin. He offered an arm. "Would you please sit and talk with me, Kelsey?"
There was something very charming about Kishan. I surprised myself by finding I immediately trusted and liked him. He had a quality similar to his brother. Like Ren, he had the ability to set a person completely at ease. Maybe it was their diplomatic training. Maybe it was how their mother raised the ~ Colleen Houck

Don't worry about those who talk behind your back. They are there for a reason. ~ Autumn

She heard him close the door. "I was going to impress you with my romantic eloquence, of course. I'd thought to wax philosophical about the beauty of your brow."
Lucy blinked. "My brow?"
"Mmm. Have I told you that your brow intimidates me?" She felt his warmth at her back as he moved behind her, but he didn't touch her. "It's so smooth and white and broad, and ends with your straight, knowing eyebrows, like a statue of Athena pronouncing judgment. If the warrior goddess had a brow like yours, it is no wonder the ancients worshiped and feared her."
"Blather," she murmured.
"Blather, indeed. Blather is all I am, after all."
She frowned and turned to contradict him, but he moved with her so that she couldn't quite catch sight of his face.
"I am the duke of nonsense," he whispered in her ear. "The king of farce, the emperor of emptiness."
Did he really see himself so? "But - "
"Blathering is what I do best," he said, still unseen. "I'd like to blather about your golden eyes and ruby lips."
"Simon - "
"The perfect curve of your cheek," he murmured close.
She gasped as his breath stirred the hair at her neck. He was distracting her with lovemaking. And it was working. "What a lot of talk."
"I do talk too much. It's a weakness you'll have to bear in your husband." His voice was next to her ear. "But I'd have to spend quite a bit of time outlining the shape of your mouth, its
softness and the warmth within.

- ~ Elizabeth Hoyt

So here's the truth - I love you. I love everything about you – the way you stick up for people even when it costs you. The way you keep trying to do the right thing even when you're not exactly sure what the right thing is. I love how you put words together. You're as skilled with words as any knife fighter with a blade. You can put an enemy down on his back, or you can raise people up so they find what's best in themselves. You've changed my life. You've given me the words I need to become whatever I want.
I love how you talk to lytlings. You don't talk down to them. You respect them, and anybody can tell you're actually interested in what they have to say.
I love the way you ride a horse – how you stick there like an upland thistle, whooping like a Demonai. I love the way you throw back your head and stomp your feet when you dance. I love how you go after what you want – whether it's kisses or a queendom.
I love your skin, like copper dusted over with gold. And your eyes – they're the color of a forest lake shaded by evergreens. One of the secret places that only the Demonai know about.
I love the scent of you – when you've been out in the fresh air, and that perfume you put behind your ears sometimes.
Believe it or not, I even love your road smell – of sweat and horses and leather and wool.
I want to breathe you in for the rest of my life. ~ Cinda Williams Chima

You don't have to live your life tiptoeing around selfish, hidden-agenda-driven, crab-bucket, talk-behind-your-back, weasel people. You just don't. At work, church, home or play - seek people who embody the future you want and surround yourself with loving influences. You deserve that circle of inclusion and influence, but it's up to you to create it. ~ Richie Norton

When people talk about you behind your back, they're not just behind you, they're beneath you. ~ Donald L. Hicks

if people talk behind your back obviously you life is more interesting than theres and they just want tips on how to improve on theres ~ Lekisha Lyles

It's so dark," she said lamely.
"You want me to hold your hand?"
Clary put both her hands behind her back like a small child.
"Don't talk down to me."
"Well, I could hardly talk up to you. You're too short. ~ Cassandra Clare

Now, as I expect you know, there is nothing more cruel than talk, and there is nothing more difficult to combat. When people say things behind your back there is nothing you can refute or deny, and the rumours go on growing and growing, and no one can stop them. I ~ Agatha Christie

I found something for you." He ignored the pangs of hunger and lowered himself to one knee before her. Her eyes widened. He swung his hand around from behind his back and held out a lone orchid the same shade as the moon overhead. And once again, he wished he knew what to say, how to talk to her, how to be more sophisticated. Instead, he thrust it before her. She tentatively took it from him and lifted questioning eyes. "For your collection of specimens," he offered. Her fingers caressed the drooping petals. "I think it's a yellow lady's slipper." He didn't know nor did he care. He only knew that he wanted one of her rare smiles. For a long intense moment, he held his breath. Finally her lips curved into a smile. "Thank you." His pulse jolted forward and he swallowed hard. "You're welcome." What was happening to him? Why did he want to make her happy? When she lifted the flower to her nose and took a deep breath, her smile moved to her eyes . . . And to his heart. ~ Jody Hedlund

He was right! Said you'd go straight after 'em, sword and knife. What's with you?"
"You said, 'A trap.' I thought it was them," I muttered through suddenly numb lips. "Wasn't it?"
"Didn't you see the riding of greeners?" Bran retorted. "It was Debegri, right enough. He had paid informants in those inns, for he was on the watch for your return. Why d'you think Vidanric sent the escort?"
"Vidanric?"
"His name," Branaric said, still staring at me with that odd gaze. "You could try to use it--only polite. After all, Shevraeth is just a title, and he doesn't go about calling either of us Tlanth."
I'd rather cut out my tongue, I thought, but I said nothing.
"Anyway--life, sister--if he'd wanted me dead, why not in the comfort of his own home, where he could do a better job?"
I shook my head. "It made sense to me."
"It makes sense when you have a castle-sized grudge." He sighed. "It was the Renselaeus escort, hard on their heels, that attacked Debegri's gang and saved my life. Our friend the Marquis wasn't far behind--he'd just found out about the spies, he said. Between us we pieced together what happened, and what I said, and what you'd likely do. I thought you'd stay home. He said you'd ride back down the mountain breathing fire and hunting his blood. He was right." He stared to laugh, but it came out a groan, and he closed his eyes for a long breath. Then, "Arrow clipped me on the right, or I'd be finished. But I can't talk long--I'm alrea ~ Sherwood Smith

Someone--a man--came up behind her and snaked an arm around her waist.
Not flirtation. Aggression.
Kestrel sidestepped and spun, pulling her dagger from its sheath.
Irex. His dagger was drawn, too.
"A fight, dear Kestrel?" His stance was easy. He didn't know how to play Bite and Sting, but his skill at weapons outmatched hers.
"Not here," she said stiffly.
"No, not here." His voice was soft. "But anywhere, if you want it."
"Exactly what do you think you are doing, Irex?"
"You mean, a moment ago? Oh, I don't know. Maybe I was trying to pick your pocket." His tone hinted at a coarse double meaning.
Kestrel slid her dagger into its sheath. "Theft is the only way you will get my gold." She walked from the cover of trees and saw, with shaky gratitude, that the party was still there, that the sound of porcelain and spoons still tinkled over low talk, and that no one had noticed anything.
No one, except perhaps Arin. He was waiting for her. She felt a flash of something unpleasant--embarrassment, perhaps, as she wondered how much of this afternoon he had overheard. Dismay to think that he might have witnessed that last exchange with Irex, and misunderstood it. Or was she troubled by something else? Maybe it was the thought that Arin knew perfectly well what had been taking place behind the trees and had made no move to interfere, to help.
It was not his place to interfere, she reminded herself. She had not needed his help.
Marie Rutkoski

Where were you? What happened?" I carved a chunk out of another lizard's face.
"I just took the kids to fight some ghouls," Curran said.
Oh, so it was fine, then . . . Wait. "You did what?"
He kicked a lizard. It flew into the others like a cannonball. "I called Jim before we left the house to talk about ghouls, and he said they found some in the MARTA tunnels. So I grabbed the kids and did a little hunting."
I would kill him. "Just so I get it right, Jim calls you and says, 'Hey, we found a horde of ghouls in the MARTA tunnels,' and your first thought was, 'Great, I'll take the kids'?"
"They had fun." A careful note crept into his voice. Curran saw the shark fin in the water but wasn't sure where the bite would be coming from.
"You even took the dog."
Grendel chose that moment to try to shove past me. I shoved him back into the Guild and he began running back and forth behind us, growling.
"He had fun, too. Look at him. He's still excited. ~ Ilona Andrews

About five miles back I had a brush with the CHP. Not stopped or pulled over: nothing routine. I always drive properly. A bit fast, perhaps, but always with consummate skill and a natural feel for the road that even cops recognize. No cop was ever born who isn't a sucker for a finely-executed hi-speed Controlled Drift all the way around one of those cloverleaf freeway interchanges.

Few people understand the psychology of dealing with a highway traffic cop. Your normal speeder will panic and immediately pull over to the side when he sees the big red light behind him ... and then he will start apologizing, begging for mercy.

This is wrong. It arouses contempt in the cop-heart. The thing to do – when you're running along about 100 or so and you suddenly find a red-flashing CHP-tracker on your tail – what you want to do then is accelerate. Never pull over with the first siren-howl. Mash it down and make the bastard chase you at speeds up to 120 all the way to the next exit. He will follow. But he won't know what to make of your blinker-signal that says you're about to turn right.

This is to let him know you're looking for a proper place to pull off and talk ... keep signaling and hope for an off-ramp, one of those uphill side-loops with a sign saying "Max Speed 25" ... and the trick, at this point, is to suddenly leave the freeway and take him into the chute at no less than 100 miles an hour.

He will lock his brakes about the same time ~ Hunter S. Thompson

Do you see that man in the black Porsche?" I asked the women.
They squinted out at Ranger. "Yes," they said."Your partner."
"He's homeless. He's looking for a place to stay and he might be interested in renting Singh's room."
Mrs.Apusenja's eyes widened. "We could use the income."She looked at Nonnie and then back at Ranger. "Is he married?"
"Nope. He's single. He's a real catch."
Connie did something between a gasp and a snort and buried her head back behind the computer. "Thank you for everything." Mrs.Apusenja said. "I suppose you are not such a bad slut. I will go talk to your partner.:
"Omigod," Connie said, when the door closed behind the Apusenja's. "Ranger's going to kill you." The Apusenjas stood beside the Porsche, talkig to Ranger for a few long minutes, giving him the big sales pitch. The pitch wound down, Ranger responded, and Mrs. Apusenja looked disappointed. The two women crossed the road and got into the burgundy Escort and quickly drove away. Ranger turned his head in my direction and our eyes met. His expression was still bemused, but this time it was the sort of bemused expression a kid has when he's pulling the wings off a fly.
"Uh-Oh,"Connie said. I whipped around and faced Connie. "Quick, give me an FTA. You're backed up, right? For God's sake, give me something fast. I need a reason to stand here until he calms down!" Connie shoved a pile of folders at me. "Pick one. Any one! Oh shit, he's getting out of his car.".... ~ Janet Evanovich

I knew a girl who was so different, so darling, so ahead of her time that people mocked her until the day they found themselves imitating her. Do you know what she used to say? She used to say "The people who talk behind your back are destined to stay there" behind your back. Never to catch up. That woman was your mother ~ Elizabeth Rudnick

We have snacks, everybody!"
"Where'd you get them from, Delaware?" Ben asked. He was glaring behind me, where Sage leaned casually against the wall.
"Practically," I said. "My fault-I was dying for Red Hots. Pretty much impossible to find. So what movie are we watching?"
Back in the cave, Sage had told me I wasn't much of an actress, and apparently he was right. I thought I put on a brilliant show, but Ben's eyes were filled with suspicion, Rayna looked like she was ready to pounce, and Sage seemed to be working very hard to stifle his laughter.
Rayna yawned. "Can't do it. I'm so tired. I'm sorry, but I have to kick you guys out and get some sleep."
She wasn't much better at acting than I was. I knew she wanted to talk, but the idea of being away from Sage killed me.
"No worries," I said. "I can bring he snacks to the guys' room. We can watch there and let you sleep."
"Great!" Ben said.
Rayna gaped, and in the space of ten seconds, she and I had a full conversation with only our eyes.
Rayna: "What the hell?"
Me: "I know! But I want to hang out with Sage."
Rayna: "Are you insane?! You'll be with him for the rest of your life. I'm only with you until morning!"
I couldn't fight that one. She was right.
"Actually, I'm pretty tired too," I said. I even forced a yawn, though judging from Sage's smirk, it wasn't terribly convincing.
"You sure?" Ben asked. He was staring at me in a way that made me feel X-rayed.
Hilary Duff

The people who talk behind your back are destined to stay there. ~ Elizabeth Rudnick

A lot of people think if they're shouting the loudest, they'll be heard, but most people lose respect for you when you lose your cool. You have to maintain everyone's respect, especially as a woman in a position of power. It's terrible to be at that kind of disadvantage, where if you yell, people will talk about you behind your back more than if you were a man. Because of those social injustices we face as women, you have to make sure that no one can call you a crazy bitch. ~ Taylor Swift

Footsteps behind her in the dark startled her out of her misery. She automtically reached for her knife, but a familiar voice broke the stillness.
"The stars say it is not safe for women to be out alone." He did not sit down beside her, but waited for her to get up.
Jesse straightened her back, wiped away tears,and stayed seated. "I needed to be alone....away from...I needed to pray."
"Then I will leave you to your prayers." Something was gone from the well-known voice. Gentle concern had always been there for her.Where was it,now, when she needed it so much?
He had already turned to go.She knew he would not go far.He would wait out of sight, watching to see that she was safe.But she did not want him out of sight. "No,I am finished.I..." her voice wavered. "There is no answer to my prayers."
"There is always an answer.But the answer is not always what we want to hear."
The truth of the simple reply cut deep.The answer to her plea for children was no. She couldn't understand it.She didn't want to accept it.But for years, now,the answer had been there.She knew it,but she couldn't bear it.Tears welled fresh in her eyes.He couldn't see them.The dark offered protection and enabled Rides the WInd to speak his fears.
"I have had prayers too. I have prayed that you would learn to be happy among the Lakota.But you tell me of the white man's count of years.You talk of all the time that you have been here.I have not wanted to hear the answer to my pray ~ Stephanie Grace Whitson

*One clue that there's something not quite real about sequential time the way you experience it is the various paradoxes of time supposedly passing and of a so-called 'present' that's always unrolling into the future and creating more and more past behind it. As if the present were this car - nice car by the way - and the past is the road we've just gone over, and the future is the headlit road up ahead we haven't yet gotten to, and time is the car's forward movement, and the precise present is the car's front bumper as it cuts through the fog of the future, so that it's now and then a tiny bit later a whole different now, etc. Except if time is really passing, how fast does it go? At what rate does the present change? See? Meaning if we use time to measure motion or rate - which we do, it's the only way you can - 95 miles per hour, 70 heartbeats a minute, etc. - how are you supposed to measure the rate at which time moves? One second per second? It makes no sense. You can't even talk about time flowing or moving without hitting up against paradox right away. So think for a second: What if there's really no movement at all? What if this is all unfolding in the one flash you call
the present, this first, infinitely tiny split-second of impact when the speeding car's front bumper's just starting to touch the abutment, just before the bumper crumples and displaces the front end and you go violently forward and the steering column comes back at your chest as if shot out of s ~ David Foster Wallace

Let me know when you're ready to talk." She stopped and glanced at them both over her shoulder. "Maybe then I'd be ready to discuss your sexual twists and my own little abnormal desires. You never know what we all might learn that we haven't already."
With that, she turned and moved back into the house, closing the door behind her and disappearing out of sight. And Cam found his back slammed against the side of Ian's Hummer, his brother in his face.
Lust and irritation flared in his brother's eyes. "You better start talking," he grated. "Because you know what she just did?"
"She just dared us, Cam. And I don't know about you, but the thought of 'abnormal desires' dancing through her mind is going to drive me fucking crazy. Now, fix it. ~ Lora Leigh

By the time I got down there, Bird was standing to the left of the backstop, near the warm-up area, smiling at Brandon. It was obvious he was trying not to get caught smiling at her, that he was supposed to focus on the game.
I scooted over until I was standing behind the dugout. Jason was still messing with his gloves. I was surprised the Velcro still worked, that it hadn't worn down until all the tiny sticky teeth were gone.
"Hey, Jason," I said. "Awesome no-hitter."
I was vaguely aware of someone gasping and someone else moaning, as Jason came up off the bench fast, spun around, and stared at me like I'd morphed into something from The X-Files.
The guy who'd gasped, Chase, put one knee on the bench, so he could talk to me in a low voice and still be heard. "You'd better go."
"Why? What did I do?"
"You never talk to the pitcher when…" He shook his head. "You just never talk to the pitcher when--"
"I just wanted to congratulate him on a good game--"
"It's not over 'til it's over," Chase said.
"You jinxed me," Jason said, crouching down in the corner, pressing his palms against his forehead, like he'd been struck with a migraine headache. ~ Rachel Hawthorne

Back in Paris," he said, "I knew a girl who was so different, so daring, so ahead of her time that people mocked her until the day they found themselves imitating her. Do you know what she used to say?"
Belle shook her head.
She used to say, 'The people who talk behind your back are destined to stay there.'" Maurice paused for a moment, letting the worlds sink in. Then he added. "Behind your back. Never to catch up. ~ Elizabeth Rudnick

'Reedlike, that's what Hedy Kiesler is, sweet and reedlike, and when she wants to talk to you she doesn't lean over your shoulder and arch herself out behind like a debutante ... She leans back from you [and] takes a good look in your eyes and a firm grip on your name before she will allow herself to say a word.' ~ Richard Rhodes

In 90% of cases, you can start with one of the two most effective ways to open a speech: ask a question or start with a story.

Our brain doesn't remember what we hear. It remembers only what we "see" or imagine while we listen.

You can remember stories. Everything else is quickly forgotten.

Smell is the most powerful sense out of 4 to immerse audience members into a scene.

Every sentence either helps to drive your point home, or it detracts from clarity. There is no middle point.

If you don't have a foundational phrase in your speech, it means that your message is not clear enough to you, and if it's not clear to you, there is no way it will be clear to your audience.

Share your failures first. Show your audience members that you are not any better, smarter or more talented than they are.

You are not an actor, you are a speaker. The main skill of an actor is to play a role; to be someone else. Your main skill as a speaker is to be yourself.

People will forgive you for anything except for being boring. Speaking without passion is boring. If you are not excited about what you are talking about, how can you expect your audience to be excited?

Never hide behind a lectern or a table. Your audience needs to see 100% of your body.

Speak slowly and people will consider you to be a thoughtful and clever person.

Leaders don't talk much, but each word holds a lot of m ~ Andrii Sedniev

She went through her memory for the time, for the day, she and and her husband told him all about what he should and should not do. No goin out into them woods without Papa or me knowin about it. No steppin foot out this house without them free papers, not even to go to the well or the privy. Say your prayers every night...Pick the blueberries close to the ground, son. Them the sweetest, I find. If a white man say the trees can talk, can dance, you just say yes right along, that you done seen em do it plenty of times. Don't look them people in the eye. You see a white woman riding toward you, get way off the road and go stand behind a tree. The uglier the white woman, the farther you go and the broader the tree. But where, in all she taught her son, was it about thou shall own no one, havin been owned once your own self. Don't go back to Egypt after God done took you outa there. ~ Edward P. Jones

You're just pushing your food around, aren't you? You've barely taken two bites. I thought you loved Lou's Cornish hens."
"I do. I'm sorry. All I can think about is that English project due this week." I look over at Ryder with a faux scowl. "We're already way behind--you've always got some excuse. We should probably work on it tonight."
"Probably so," Ryder says with an exasperated-sounding sigh.
"That's the third project the two of you have been paired up on," Mama says, shaking her head. "I hope you two can behave well enough to get your work done properly. No more arguing like the last time."
We'd pretended to fight over a calculus project. Yes, a calculus project. Is there really any such thing?
"We're trying really hard to behave," I say, shooting Ryder a sidelong glance. "Right?"
His cheeks pinken deliciously at the innuendo. I love it when Ryder blushes. Totally adorable.
"Right," he mumbles, his gaze fixed on his lap.
Laura Grace gives us both a pointed look. "You two better learn to get along, you hear? You're going to be spending a lot of time together for the next four years."
Four years. Just the two of us--away from our meddling mamas. I have to bite my lip to force back the smile that's threatening to give us away.
"She's right," Mama says, nodding. "The only way I'm allowing Jemma to go to NYU is if she promises not to go off campus without Ryder to escort her."
Escort me? What is it, the 1950s or somethin ~ Kristi Cook

If you walk through a door with dead locks,bolts and chains don't betray or turn your back on that trust.The privilege of knowing all that goes on behind that door should be treated as an extraordinary gift.For many people will only ever see half of the real person they've known for years. ~ Anonymous

A random crack in the old plaster in the corner behind her seemed to grow, until it curled its way across the ceiling, circled the frosted chandelier, and swirled its way back down. It looked like a heart. A giant, looping, girly heart had just appeared in the cracking plaster of her bedroom ceiling.
"Lena."
"Yeah?"
"Is your ceiling about to fall in on our heads?"
She turned and looked at the crack. When she saw it, she bit her lip, and her cheeks turned pink. "I don't think so. It's just a crack in the plaster."
"Were you trying to do that?"
"No." A creeping pink spread across her nose and cheeks. She looked away. ~ Kami Garcia

It's not a matter of Dad sitting down with his preadolescent son and incorporating 'Don't be a criminal!' into the 'birds and the bees' talk. (I mean, that couldn't hurt, probably. But it's not the point.) It's about teaching our boys to actively oppose sexual violence.

It's all well and good to say you're against rape and would never rape anyone, end of story. But somewhere in that crowd of guys laughing about an unconscious girl getting 'a wang in the butthole, dude' - and the one listening to Daniel Tosh say, 'Wouldn't it be funny if she got gang-raped right now?' and the one reading an op-ed in the Washington Post that puts 'sexual assault' in quotation marks, as though it exists only in the eye of the beholder - somewhere in all of those crowds is the guy who would rape someone. The guy who will rape someone. The guy who has raped someone.

And could you blame any of those guys for thinking that rape is not a serious crime, or even something to be particularly ashamed of, when so many 'good' guys around them are laughing at the same jokes? ~ Kate Harding