I had a dream about you, You were peeing behind a house and when I approached you, you smiled and said to me "Your face makes me happy" I was so flattered by your words and impressed that you could pee and still talk to me.











I was standing in a slow checkout line at the grocery store, and a woman with a daughter in front of me struck up a conversation. About two minutes in, she mentioned that her daughter just turned eighteen. “Oh my God!” I said. “Have you been waiting in this line her whole life?

Now that he was semidressed, I recovered enough to say, “Not really. But I guess if you want me to hold a conversation with you, you should keep your clothes on.”He gestured for me to follow him through the house, and I thought I heard him mutter, “Conversation is so overrated.

He was one of that class of men who, apart from a scientific career in which they may well have proved brilliantly successful, have acquired an entirely different kind of culture, literary or artistic, for which their professional specialisation has no use but by which their conversation profits.

Just so you know, I’m goin’ to enlist.”“I’m proud of you. But why?”I groan against the pain but manage to give him a half smile. “I want to make sure Kiara’s got a boyfriend who has more to offer than a hot bod and a face that could make angels weep.

Words were few and failing between them as though the silence that sat with them had laid its old lips on theirs and sucked them dry of speech. For where could one begin? With the weather? But here there was no weather. These few sad rooms were the old man's world. His horizons were all walls.

The difference between educated people and uneducated people is that educated people have been opened up to the notion that you can disagree without fighting; whereas uneducated people, in conversation, seek to always agree--everybody agrees and agrees and that's considered basic social libation.

I had a dream about you. You took a cruise, and I took a canoe. I paddled alongside your ship out into the Atlantic Ocean and down to the Caribbean. I shouted “I love you” the whole way, but you couldn’t hear me, probably because that man you were with was talking the whole time.


He did it (listened) as the world's most charming and magnetic people do, always asking the right question at the right time, never fidgeting or taking his eyes from the speaker's face, making the other guy feel like the most knowledgeable, brilliant, and intellectually savvy person on the planet.

I had a dream about you. I was passing out business cards the size of billboards, and you had a mouth as wide as a sperm whale, though your conversational range was as narrow as a midget’s urethra. Your Word of Mouth Value was as powerful as a limp firehouse, and my networking skills were on fire.


We define our identity always in dialogue with, sometimes in struggle against, the things our significant others want to see in us. Even after we outgrow some of these others—our parents, for instance—and they disappear from our lives, the conversation with them continues within us as long as we live.

To choose to chew, rather than converse with my fellow dinner guests, was the choice I made when I chose the chewiest item on the menu. I wasn’t being rude. In fact, I was being polite. By ignoring them, I fulfilled and followed the aphorism: “It’s not polite to talk with your mouth full of food.

The conversation was mesmerizing, not for its content but for the cadences of the talk, the rhythm we fell into when we were alone, now as before. Every conversation between friends or lovers creates its own easy or awkward rhythms, hidden talk that runs like a subterranean river under even the most banal exchange.

And besides . . . I don’t want to leave you. Er, you guys.”He smiled, and it lit up his whole face. “Well, ‘we’ are certainly happy to hear that. Oh, and I’m also happy to watch our darling little love child dragon while you’re in St. Louis.”I grinned back.

Fresh from the rarefied environments of Harvard, the author says he purposefully took journalism jobs in small southern towns so that he could learn the art of conversation with ordinary people. Is this gift for listening and for conversation, it seems, that allowed him to produce textured historical narratives of grand impact.