Listener And Talker Quotes

A good listener is very nearly as attractive as a good talker. You cannot have a beautiful mind if you do not know how to listen.

The world is full of talkers, but it is rare to find anyone who listens. And I assure you that you can pick up more information when you are listening than when you are talking.

The world was overpopulated with talkers and underpopulated by listeners,

Most of us who turn to any subject with love remember some morning or evening hour when we got on a high stool to reach down an untried volume, or sat with parted lips listening to a new talker, or for very lack of books began to listen to the voices within, as the first traceable beginning of our love.

I began to understand that there were certain talkers--certain girls--whom people liked to listen to, not because of what they, the girls, had to say, but because of the delight they took in saying it. A delight in themselves, a shine on their faces, a conviction that whatever they were telling about was remarkable and that they themselves could not help but give pleasure. There might be other people--people like me--who didn't concede this, but that was their loss. And people like me would never be the audience these girls were after, anyway.

Being a good talker doesn’t make you a good listener, and being smart might make you a terrible listener.

Very important people have told me that they prefer good listeners to good talkers, but the ability to listen seems rarer than almost any other good trait.

When the word is heard consult the source, and beware the messenger.

A good listener is a good talker with a sore throat.

A lot of people lacked that gift: knowing when to fuck off. People love talking, and I have never been a huge talker. I carry on an inner monologue, but the words often don’t reach my lips. She looks nice today, I’d think, but somehow it wouldn’t occur to me to say it out loud. My mom talked, my sister talked. I’d been raised to listen. So, sitting on the couch by myself, not talking, felt decadent.

Talkers aren't listeners

The world was overpopulated with talkers and underpopulated by listeners, and many of her sources gave her the impression that she was the first person who’d ever truly listened to them.

if I was gay, I’d… I’d be mesmerized by you. I’d listen to every word that fell out of your mouth like it was diamonds made of sound waves. I’d memorize the pattern of freckles on your back and spend months taking cooking classes just to find something you’d eat. You are kind, and you are funny, and you are brave, and any man who has you needs to see all that or he just isn’t worth the laces in your combat boots, you hear me

Empaths are incredible listeners but often make the mistake of tolerating chronic talkers for too long. Then we become exhausted. To protect ourselves, empaths must address our tendency to people please. Everyone loves telling empaths their life stories because we’re so attentive. But with chronic talkers, we must learn to set boundaries, a basic form of self-care.

We were a perfect match. I’m a talker; Laura is a listener. I am restless; she is calm. I can get a little carried away; she is practical and down-to-earth. Above all, she is genuine and natural. There is no phoniness about her. Her appeal was immediate and constant. In August, I went to visit my family in Kennebunkport, planning to stay for a week. After one night, I flew back to Texas to be with Laura.

Who has control in a conversation, the guy listening or the guy talking? The listener, of course. That’s because the talker is revealing information while the listener, if he’s trained well, is directing the conversation toward his own goals. He’s harnessing the talker’s energy for his own ends.

She shuddered. Pee talkers baffled her. How could they do that? Give you no opportunity to not listen?

I’ve never been good at expressing myself—I’m a listener, not a talker. At least, when it comes to things that concern me.

Nothing would have been easier for King Antigonus53 than to order the execution of two of his soldiers; while leaning against the king’s tent, they were doing what people do with great delight, even though it’s very dangerous, bad-mouthing their own king. Antigonus heard it all, as there was only a piece of cloth between the talkers and the listener. He moved that cloth gently aside and said, “Move further off, so the king won’t hear you.

They have been so much concerned with what they are going to say next that they do not keep their ears open. … Very important people have told me that they prefer good listeners to good talkers, but the ability to listen seems rarer than almost any other good trait.

The subject of reading aloud was farther discussed. The young men were the only talkers, but they, standing by the fire, talked over the too common neglect of the qualification, the total inattention to it, in the ordinary school-system for boys, the consequently natural--yet in some instances almost unnatural degree of ignorance and uncouthness of men, of sensible and well-informed men, when suddenly called to the necessity of reading aloud, which had fallen within their notice, giving instances of blunders, and failures with their secondary causes, the want of management of the voice, of proper modulation and emphasis, of foresight and judgment, all proceeding from the first cause, want of early attention and habit; and Fanny was listening again with great attention.

The Congress is full of highly educated talkers who use ornate, flowery language. Washington never went to college. He speaks simply or, more often, he listens. As the other delegates compete to talk as much as possible, Washington exerts a gravity and power by withholding opinions. He has, as John Adams later puts it, the “gift of silence.” But when he does speak, the words have conviction.

as efficient as communications’ mechanisms become, they are still, as they have always been, subject to the overwhelming tendency for entropy to increase, for information to leak in transit, unless certain external agents are introduced to control it. I have already referred to an interesting view of language made by a cybernetically-minded philologist—that speech is a joint game by the talker and the listener against the forces of confusion.

Now, just listen to me. And listen carefully, please, because I will be speaking bullshit. In two months a U.S. Marshal is going to stride into this godforsaken modular with his cut-rate suit and his Sunday-school way of talking and request that I turn over the keys to the freak show that is the B Squad file cabinets, over which, as of this morning, it is my honor to preside.” They are talkers, the Gelbfishes, speech makers and reasoners and aces of wheedling. Bina’s father nearly talked Landsman out of marrying her. On the night before the wedding.

He was a great talker. Not that he had anything great to say, but girls would get carried away listening to him, they’d drink too much and end up sleeping with him. I guess they enjoyed being with somebody so nice and handsome and clever. And the most amazing thing was that, just because I was with him, I seemed to become as fascinating to them as he was. Nagasawa would urge me to talk, and girls would respond to me with the same smiles of admiration they gave him. His magic did it, a real talent he had that impressed me every time. Compared with Nagasawa, Kizuki’s conversational gift was child’s play. This was a whole different level of accomplishment. As much as I found myself caught up in Nagasawa’s power, though, I still missed Kizuki. I felt a new admiration for his sincerity. Whatever talents he had he would share with Naoko and me alone, while Nagasawa was bent on disseminating his considerable gifts to all around him. Not that he was dying to sleep with the girls he found: it was just a game to him.

I'm anxious for you to meet my new boarder," Miriam said as they headed down the street. "He's such a handsome, well-mannered young man. I think you would like each other." Willow stopped short. "Wait a minute . You aren't thinking of doing some matchmaking, are you? Criminey, all I need is another man to take care of. Listen, if I wanted a beau that bad, I could hook one easy all on my own." "Oh? Then why haven't you?" "I just told you why. I don't need another man to do for. All a miner wants is a hard-working woman to slave for 'im while he chases dreams of gold and silver. Gamblers ain't much different, 'cept they're smoother talkers. They want a pretty mistress, one who don't mind working on her backside when her man's down on his luck." After a whole afternoon in Willow's company, Miriam was becoming shockproof. She merely raised a disapproving brow at this last statement. "I see your point, Willow, but has a real gentleman ever asked to court you?" "I suppose that depends on your definition of a gentleman." "Humph! I thought as much." Miriam sashayed on down the boardwalk. "You never did anwer my question," Willow reminded her, hurrying to catch up. "Are you matchmaking?" "Oh,look, we're here at the ice-cream parlor already. What flavor are you going to have?

The phone rang. It was a familiar voice. It was Alan Greenspan. Paul O'Neill had tried to stay in touch with people who had served under Gerald Ford, and he'd been reasonably conscientious about it. Alan Greenspan was the exception. In his case, the effort was constant and purposeful. When Greenspan was the chairman of Ford's Council of Economic Advisers, and O'Neill was number two at OMB, they had become a kind of team. Never social so much. They never talked about families or outside interests. It was all about ideas: Medicare financing or block grants - a concept that O'Neill basically invented to balance federal power and local autonomy - or what was really happening in the economy. It became clear that they thought well together. President Ford used to have them talk about various issues while he listened. After a while, each knew how the other's mind worked, the way married couples do. In the past fifteen years, they'd made a point of meeting every few months. It could be in New York, or Washington, or Pittsburgh. They talked about everything, just as always. Greenspan, O'Neill told a friend, "doesn't have many people who don't want something from him, who will talk straight to him. So that's what we do together - straight talk." O'Neill felt some straight talk coming in. "Paul, I'll be blunt. We really need you down here," Greenspan said. "There is a real chance to make lasting changes. We could be a team at the key moment, to do the things we've always talked about." The jocular tone was gone. This was a serious discussion. They digressed into some things they'd "always talked about," especially reforming Medicare and Social Security. For Paul and Alan, the possibility of such bold reinventions bordered on fantasy, but fantasy made real. "We have an extraordinary opportunity," Alan said. Paul noticed that he seemed oddly anxious. "Paul, your presence will be an enormous asset in the creation of sensible policy." Sensible policy. This was akin to prayer from Greenspan. O'Neill, not expecting such conviction from his old friend, said little. After a while, he just thanked Alan. He said he always respected his counsel. He said he was thinking hard about it, and he'd call as soon as he decided what to do. The receiver returned to its cradle. He thought about Greenspan. They were young men together in the capital. Alan stayed, became the most noteworthy Federal Reserve Bank chairman in modern history and, arguably the most powerful public official of the past two decades. O'Neill left, led a corporate army, made a fortune, and learned lessons - about how to think and act, about the importance of outcomes - that you can't ever learn in a government. But, he supposed, he'd missed some things. There were always trade-offs. Talking to Alan reminded him of that. Alan and his wife, Andrea Mitchell, White House correspondent for NBC news, lived a fine life. They weren't wealthy like Paul and Nancy. But Alan led a life of highest purpose, a life guided by inquiry. Paul O'Neill picked up the telephone receiver, punched the keypad. "It's me," he said, always his opening. He started going into the details of his trip to New York from Washington, but he's not much of a phone talker - Nancy knew that - and the small talk trailed off. "I think I'm going to have to do this." She was quiet. "You know what I think," she said. She knew him too well, maybe. How bullheaded he can be, once he decides what's right. How he had loved these last few years as a sovereign, his own man. How badly he was suited to politics, as it was being played. And then there was that other problem: she'd almost always been right about what was best for him. "Whatever, Paul. I'm behind you. If you don't do this, I guess you'll always regret it." But it was clearly about what he wanted, what he needed. Paul thanked her. Though somehow a thank-you didn't seem appropriate. And then he realized she was crying.

Be a Listener When words are many, sin is not absent, but he who holds his tongue is wise. —PROVERBS 10:19     I’ve heard it said that God gave us two ears and only one mouth because He wants us to listen twice as much as we speak. I don’t know about you, but I’ve never had to apologize for something I haven’t said. It’s much easier and really more natural for us to speak rather than listen. We have to learn to listen. It takes discipline to keep from talking. As a parent, spouse, sibling, or friend, we need to be known as good listeners. And while listening, we’d do well to remember that there are always two sides to every story. Postpone any judgment until you’ve heard all the evidence—then wait some more. Eleanor Roosevelt, in one of her many speeches, stated, “A mature person is one who does not think only in absolutes, who is able to be objective even when deeply stirred emotionally, who has learned that there is both good and bad in all people and in all things, and who walks humbly and deals charitably with the circumstances of life, knowing that in this world no one is all-knowing and therefore all of us need both love and charity.” Our Scripture verse talks to us about being more of a listener than a talker. Too many words can lead to putting one’s foot in one’s mouth. The more we speak, the greater the chance of being offensive. The wise person will restrain her speech. Listening seldom gets us into trouble, but our mouths certainly cause transgressions. When others realize that you are a true listener, they will tell you important matters. They will open up about their lives and their dreams. They will entrust you with a bit of themselves and their hearts. Never violate that trust. You have the best model possible in your relationship with God. Without fail, He listens to your every need and hope. Prayer: Father God, thank You for giving me two good ears to hear. Hold my tongue when I want to lash out. I want to be a better hearer. Amen.  

After the war, when I told Terry Kitchen something about my three hours of ideal lovemaking with Marilee, and how contentedly adrift in the cosmos they made me feel, he said this: “You were experiencing a non-epiphany.” “A what?” I said. “A concept of my own invention,” he said. This was back when he was still a talker instead of a painter, long before I bought him the spray rig. As far as that goes, I was nothing but a talker and a painters’ groupie. I was still going to become a businessman. “The trouble with God isn’t that He so seldom makes Himself known to us,” he went on. “The trouble with God is exactly the opposite: He’s holding you and me and everybody else by the scruff of the neck practically constantly.” He said he had just come from an afternoon at the Metropolitan Museum of Art, where so many of the paintings were about God’s giving instructions, to Adam and Eve and the Virgin Mary, and various saints in agony and so on. “These moments are very rare, if you can believe the painters—but who was ever nitwit enough to believe a painter?” he said, and he ordered another double Scotch, I’m sure, for which I would pay. “Such moments are often called ‘epiphanies’ and I’m here to tell you they are as common as houseflies,” he said. “I see,” I said. I think Pollock was there listening to all this, although he and Kitchen and I were not yet known as the “Three Musketeers.” He was a real painter, so he hardly talked at all. After Terry Kitchen became a real painter, he, too, hardly talked at all. “ ‘Contentedly adrift in the cosmos,’ were you?” Kitchen said to me. “That is a perfect description of a non-epiphany, that rarest of moments, when God Almighty lets go of the scruff of your neck and lets you be human for a little while. How long did the feeling last?” “Oh—maybe half an hour,” I said. And he leaned back in his chair and he said with deep satisfaction: “And there you are.” •

We live in a culture now where impact is more important than intent; where how things are taken is more significant than how they are meant. You have to listen to the people being talked about rather than the talker – and the power, throughout history, has tended to be with the talker, the person with the platform, rather than the talked-about, who are usually the ones affected.

We live in a culture now where impact is more important than intent; where how things are taken is more significant than how they are meant. You have to listen to the people being talked about rather than the talker—and the power, throughout history, has tended to be with the talker, the person with the platform, rather than the talked-about, who are usually the ones affected.

On the day I started my self-examination I asked myself these questions: ‘Am I interested in people? Do ideas excite me? Am I knowledgeable enough about novels to write one?’ I’m sure there were other questions, but I forget them now. My earliest memories involve being one among many other children, so I did not grow up with a self-centered view of myself, and because of my early jobs I knew a great deal about life. I had knocked about America as a lad, seen Europe in my college years and had been in the Pacific as an adult. But most important, I had always loved people, their histories, the prestigious things they did and said, and I especially relished their stories about themselves. I was so eager to collect information about everyone I met that I was practically a voyeur, and always it was their accounts that mattered, not mine, for I was a listener, not a talker. If the writing of fiction was the reporting of how human beings behaved, I was surely eligible, for I liked not only their stories, I liked them. As for ideas on which to base my writing, I was interested in everything—I was a kind of intellectual vacuum cleaner that picked up not only the oddest collection of facts imaginable but also solid material on the basic concerns of life.” —Chapter XI, “Intellectual Equipment”, page 297

Instead of promoting babblers and ball hogs, elevate people who put the mission above their ego—and prioritize team cohesion over personal glory. When teams are eager to contribute, the most effective leader is not the loudest talker, but the best listener.

The big three blind spots are tone of voice, facial expressions, and body language. The listener is very aware of these, the talker is not.

They tell me, Lord, that when I seem To be in speech with you, Since but one voice is heard, it’s all a dream One talker aping two. Sometimes it is, yet not as they Conceive. Rather, I Seek in myself the things I hoped to say, But lo!, my wells are dry. Then, seeing me empty, you forsake The listener’s role and through My dumb lips breathe and into utterance wake The thoughts I never knew. And thus you neither need reply Nor can; thus, while we seem Two talkers, thou art One forever, and I No dreamer, but thy dream.

January 28 Wise Words A wise person gets known for insight; gracious words add to one’s reputation. . .They make a lot of sense, these wise folks; whenever they speak, their reputation increases.—Proverbs 16:21, 23 (MSG) Every time I talk with my friend Gloria I wonder, why can’t I say wise things like she does? Gloria is not a real talker, but when she speaks it is certainly worth listening to. Many times I am guilty of being in such a rush to have myself heard that I speak first, and then think. Often I have unfortunate results. How many times have I said, “Why did I make that statement?” My friend Gloria has great insight. She makes a lot of sense. She speaks with wisdom that she has gained from studying God’s Word. People listen when Gloria speaks. And yes, as today’s Scripture says, her reputation increases. We should all seek to encourage those who cross our paths. We should measure our words carefully. We should speak wisely, not impulsively. Our words should bring healing and comfort to a world that needs both. Our words should be pleasing to God and helpful to others. Our words and our actions both should demonstrate what it means to be a faithful follower of Jesus Christ. Recently I did a study in God’s Word about communicating with others. Here are some questions to ask before jumping too quickly into conversations: Are my words positive or negative? Am I listening to what others say? Do I talk too much? Am I meddling or gossiping? Is my timing right? Am I speaking encouragingly? Do I have lying lips? Am I bragging or nagging? Do I admit wrongs? Do I sometimes need to bridle my tongue? Think on these statements so that your words will be more like God desires them to be. Ask God to give you His words and his wisdom.

Heed Your Speed. Are you a fast or a slow talker? Be mindful towards the person with whom you are speaking to ensure that your message is being comprehended, understood, and absorbed. If they are listening at a slower rate than you are speaking, disconnect can occur.

To get at the root of problems, a leader must develop into a skillful listener. Too many strong personalities are compulsive talkers. “He won’t listen to me,” complains a missionary. “He gives the answer before I have had a chance to state the problem.

Talkers are seldom wiser than listeners.