You seldom listen to me, and when you do you don't hear, and when you do hear you hear wrong, and even when you hear right you change it so fast that it's never the same.
The word 'listen' contains the same letters as the word 'silent.'
I remind myself every morning: Nothing I say this day will teach me anything. So if I'm going to learn, I must do it by listening.
I hate to cry and I hate to sound like sour grapes, but no one ever listens to me. No one ever hears what I have to say.
The greatest compliment that was ever paid me was when one asked me what I thought, and attended to my answer.
I don't have a specific plan except for as long as people want to listen to me talk, I'm going to keep talking. I can't imagine a life without doing standup.
Gentlemen, listen to me slowly.
Listen to the mustn'ts, child. Listen to the don'ts. Listen to the shouldn'ts, the impossibles, the won'ts. Listen to the never haves, then listen close to me... Anything can happen, child. Anything can be.
When I stand up to talk, people listen to me; they will follow what I have to say. Is it any power of mine? Of course not. St. Paul says, 'What have you that you have not received and you who have received, why do you glory as if you had not?' But the secret of my power is that I have never in fifty-five years missed spending an hour in the presence of our Lord in the Blessed Sacrament. That's where the power comes from. That's where sermons are born. That's where every good thought is conceived.
I'm starting to find out that a lot of people that you wouldn't think listen to me really do.
If I'm having a really bad day, I always have a girlfriend - or even a guy friend - who I can call. They'll listen to me wallow for a minute and then be like, 'Okay, let's stop. Everything's great. Let's figure out how to fix whatever's bothering you.'
Meaning, I need you to focus. If you want to save Madaug, you need to listen to me or the mortents will eat both of you Pop-Tarts for breakfast. (Ambrose)
Now, this is where I draw the line! It's bad enough everybody in town's going to be thinkin' I'm sleeping with a depressed, lice-ridden, hemorrhoidal foreigner who likes to be tied up and might be pregnant, although-since she's just about cornered the market on condoms-I don't know how that could have happened. But I will not-you listen to me, Emma!-I absolutely will not have anybody thinkin' a woman of mine needs a vaginal moisturizer, do you hear me?
I have heard what poets write about women. They rhyme and rhapsodize and lie. I have watched sailors on the shore stare mutely at the slow-rolling swell of the sea. I have watched old soldiers with hearts like leather grow teary-eyed at their king's colors stretched against the wind. Listen to me: these men know nothing of love. You will not find it in the words of poets or the longing eyes of sailors. If you want to know of love, look to a trouper's hands as he makes his music. A trouper knows.
Amy, listen to me. What I do. The choices I make. They're mine. Only mine. The consequences of those decisions—mine. "Mine," he repeated when she sighed heavily. "No one else's." Silence. Only the warm wetness of her tears dampening his shirt. It broke his heart.
But, dear God, don't listen to me. I'm an old lady in the middle of nowhere without a real toilet.
They don’t listen to me, they don’t hear me, they don’t see me.
Rule number 2 - don't listen to me!" Arriane laughed, "I'm certifiably insane!
You are young. So you know everything. You leap into the boat and begin rowing. But, listen to me. Without fanfare, without embarrassment, without doubt,I talk directly to your soul. Listen to me.
You didn't listen to me," Lan whispered. One last lesson. The hardest. Demandred struck, and Lan saw his opening. Lan lunged forward placing Demandred's sword point against his own side and ramming himself forward onto it. "I did not come here to win," Lan whispered, smiling. "I came here to kill you. Death is lighter than a feather." Demandred's eyes opened wide, and he tried to pull back. Too late. Lan's sword took him straight though the throat.
Listen to me. I’m shy. I’m not stupid. I can’t meet people’s eyes. I don’t know if you understand what that’s like. There’s a whole world going on around me, I’m aware of that. It’s not because I don’t want to look at you, Lucinda. It’s that I don’t want to be seen.
The debate raged on for so long, at last Saphira had interrupted with a roar that shook the walls of the command tent. Then she said, I am sore and tired, and Eragon is doing a poor job of explaining himself. We have better things to do than stand around yammering like jackdaws, no? ... Good now listen to me. It was reflected Eragon, hard to argue with a dragon.
But listen to me first and swear an oath to use all your eloquence and strength to look after me and protect me.
It was a drowsy summer afternoon, and the Forest was full of gentle sounds, which all seemed to be saying to Pooh, 'Don't listen to Rabbit, listen to me.' So he got in a comfortable position for not listening to Rabbit.
It was not in my nature to be an assertive person. I was used to looking to others for guidance, for influence, sometimes for the most basic cues of life. And yet writing stories is one of the most assertive things a person can do. Fiction is an act of willfulness, a deliberate effort to reconceive, to rearrange, to reconstitute nothing short of reality itself. Even among the most reluctant and doubtful of writers, this willfulness must emerge. Being a writer means taking the leap from listening to saying, "Listen to me."
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