Don't Shoot The Messenger Quotes

The point is, when you ask, “What do you want for dinner?” we’re thinking about screwing you on the kitchen counter. When you’re telling us about the sappy film you watched with your girlfriends last week, we’re thinking about the porno we saw on cable last night. When you show us the designer shoes you bought on sale, we’re thinking how nice they would look on our shoulders. I just thought you’d want to know. Don’t shoot the messenger

Nick could see the gun shaking in Alan's hand now, in tight, terrified spasms. "Last night we put a magician in the river," Alan said, his voice low and intense as if he was making a promise."Maybe we should send you to join him." "You know the rules," the woman whispered. "Don't shoot the messenger." Nick interrupted, leaning down to speak in her ear. "Do they say 'Don't cut the messenger in half with your great big sword'?

We live in a society where people are often more offended by those who point out child abuse than by the abuse itself. In other words, society does not view abuse as the problem; the problem is you pointing it out. Society's basic mindset is that "If we don't talk about abuse, then it's not happening." Similarly, children are attacked when they point out the dysfunction around them.

You know the phrase ‘Don’t shoot the messenger’?” Edmondson says. “In fact, it’s not enough to not shoot them. You have to hug the messenger and let them know how much you need that feedback. That way you can be sure that they feel safe enough to tell you the truth next time.

Honest people will always be hated, not because they are incorrect (they may be exactly right), but because some loathe truth and its agents.

Negative emotions are messengers delivering urgent news from faraway lands you lost contact to Don’t shoot the messengers they are gardeners bringing tears to water the seeds of a new you

You’re kind of an asshole.” My conviction is weak – so weak – and more wishful thinking that anything. “You were disturbing the peace – the natural order of things, if you will – and I’ve been tasked with escorting you from the premises. Don’t shoot the messenger.

Until, on the last day of shooting the pilot, just as Miranda was leaving set, she turned back and said, “Hey, Jennette, do you have AIM?” “Not really,” I said, thinking she was talking about throwing things. I’ve never had good aim. “You don’t have AOL Instant Messenger?” She seemed shocked. “Ohhhh, AIM,” I said, hoping that I sounded convincing, like I knew what it was even though I still didn’t. “Yeah, I have it.” “Cool. Add me.” “Cool.” And I felt it. As soon as I got home that day, I had Marcus sign me up for an account. Over AIM, our friendship blossomed. Miranda and I spent hours talking every day on it. Sometimes if Mom walked past and asked me what I was doing, I’d tell her I was talking to Miranda, but most of the time I’d shrink the AIM text bubble, lie, and say I was doing schoolwork. She didn’t question me. She’d leave the room and then I’d pull the text bubble back up and start laughing.

You don’t need to pity them. Really, let me tell you: don’t. The reality of the universe is not something to envy.” “Why?” Yifan lifted a hand and pointed at the stars of the galaxy. Then he let the 3G force pull his arm back to this chest. “Darkness. Only darkness.” “You mean the dark forest state?” Guan Yifan shook his head, a gesture that appeared to be a struggle in hypergravity. “For us, the dark forest state is all-important, but it’s just a detail of the cosmos. If you think of the cosmos as a great battlefield, dark forest strikes are nothing more than snipers shooting at the careless—messengers, mess men, etc. In the grand scheme of the battle, they are nothing. You have not seen what a true interstellar war is like.” “Have you?” “We’ve caught a few glimpses. But most things we know are just guesses.… Do you really want to know? The more you possess of this kind of knowledge, the less light remains in your heart.” “My heart is already completely dark. I want to know.” And so, more than six centuries after Luo Ji had fallen through ice into that lake, another dark veil hiding the truth about the universe was lifted before the gaze of one of the only survivors of Earth civilization. Yifan asked, “Why don’t you tell me what the most powerful weapon for a civilization possessing almost infinite technological prowess is? Don’t think of this as a technical question. Think philosophy.” Cheng Xin pondered for a while and then struggled to shake her head. “I don’t know.” “Your experiences should give you a hint.” What had she experienced? She had seen how a cruel attacker could lower the dimensions of space by one and destroy a solar system. What are dimensions? “The universal laws of physics,” Cheng Xin said. “That’s right. The universal laws of physics are the most terrifying weapons, and also the most effective defenses. Whether it’s by the Milky Way or the Andromeda Galaxy, at the scale of the local galactic group or the Virgo Supercluster, those warring civilizations possessing godlike technology will not hesitate to use the universal laws of physics as weapons. There are many laws that can be manipulated into weapons, but most commonly, the focus is on spatial dimensions and the speed of light. Typically, lowering spatial dimensions is a technique for attack, and lowering the speed of light is a technique for defense. Thus, the dimensional strike on the Solar System was an advanced attack method. A dimensional strike is a sign of respect. In this universe, respect is not easy to earn. I guess you could consider it an honor for Earth civilization.

But, my lady, you seem to have an altogether different admirer who can’t take his eyes off you. And, at this particular moment, he doesn’t appear at all pleased that you are enjoying yourself in my arms.” She started to look to see to whom he was referring, when he stopped her quickly. “Don’t look, kitten. Then he’ll know we’re discussing him.” “Who?” “You mean you don’t know? You haven’t noticed him watching you all evening? All season?” “Freddie, WHO?” “Blackmoor, of course.” “You’re touched.” Alex laughed, shaking her head. “He’s not been watching me all season, and if he has been watching me tonight, it’s only because he feels obligated to. He’s my chaperone for the evening.” Freddie laughed shortly. “Really? Your chaperone? It seems to me that your family are the ones who are touched, Alex. They’re practically feeding you to the lion.” “You don’t know what you’re talking about, Freddie. Blackmoor has no interest in me other than pseudobrotherly admiration.” “Oh? I’ve two sisters myself, if you’ll remember, Alex. And I’ve never looked at one of them quite the way he’s looking at you right now.” It took all of Alex’s strength not to look. “Which is how, precisely?” “As though he doesn’t know if he wants to kiss you or kill you.” She gasped, a blush coming to her cheeks. “Freddie!” “Don’t shoot the messenger, sweet.” “You’re sorely mistaken.” “Perhaps.

They invalidate vegans in large part through promulgating inaccurate, negative stereotypes that cause meat eaters - or nonvegans - to feel defensive against the information vegans share: if she shoot the messenger, we don't have to take seriously the implicatioins of their message. For example, vegans are often portrayed as overly emotional, animal-loving sentimentalists. If someone is overly emotional, by definition they are not rational, and people who are not rational are not worth listening to.

we often condemn bearers of bad news, since we automatically associate them with the message’s content (otherwise known as shoot-the-messenger syndrome). Sometimes, CEOs and investors (unconsciously) steer clear of these harbingers, meaning the only news that reaches the upper echelons is positive, thus creating a distorted view of the real situation. If you lead a group of people, and don’t want to fall prey to false connections, direct your staff to tell you only the bad news – and fast. With this, you overcompensate for the shoot-the-messenger syndrome and, believe me, you will still hear enough positive news.

She flicked a glance down his body with what might’ve been appreciation from someone else, but since it was Simone, he labeled the look as “disdain.” She picked up a bottle of barbecue sauce. “Naked Heat.” She blew a raspberry. Definitely disdain. “Hey, don’t shoot the messenger. Sex calls.” She arched a single brow, and something in him coiled tight. “Guess it depends on who’s selling it.

Bunny, and my parents aren’t here either, but you’d like to make it about them. Don’t shit a shitter. The higher-ups aren’t wild about me returning to work because, while Assistant Commissioner Fintan O’Rourke was as dodgy as a three euro note, he was still one of the chosen and having me knocking about is an unhappy reminder of a rather big embarrassment for the force. 'Tis classic Garda logic – we take a PR black eye when it comes out that the second most powerful peaked cap in the country has been in the pocket of the self-styled godfather of Irish crime, Gerry Fallon, for several decades, and the solution is to shoot the messenger.