gossip

How she wished she had Elizabeth to herself for a little so they could discuss what Henry's real intentions were and also how high and mighty Penelope had acted at lunch and what a tremendous insult it was that she'd come at all and did anyone really think she was beautiful with those oversize features anyway.

It was uncertain. She was in her early forties. Breast cancer. No one could identify exactly how everyone had come to know this fact. Was it a fact? Some people called it rumor. But in fact there was no such thing as rumor. There was fact, and there was what did not come up in conversation.

Men's tongues in some things outrun women's.

Talk for people and not about them. Unless you have love in your heart, refrain from discussing another person.

I hate missing everything. That's why I want to marry well and be a grand lady. Then I can host all the parties, all the time, and see everything that is going on always. How can you stand not knowing?

There was a moment of silence and then Sutherland breathed, __ut, darling! Gossip is the food of the gods.

There is one more thing," said Mr. Peabody. "Now you must go and pick up all the feathers." ... "I don't think it's possible to pick up all the feathers," Tommy replied. "It would be just as impossible to undo the damage that you have done by spreading the rumor that I am a thief," said Mr. Peabody. "Each feather represents a person in Happyville." ... "Next time, don't be so quick to judge a person. And remember the power of your words.

You know I don__ listen to market gossip,_ she began,__ut it is hard not to hear it when my daughter__ name is mentioned.

My life might have been so different, had I not been known as the girl whose grandmother exploded. And had I not been born in Bad Munstereifel. If we had lived in the city -- well, I"m not saying the event would have gone unnoticed, but the fuss would probably only have lasted a week before public interest moved elsewhere. Besides, in a city you are anonymous; the chances of being picked out as Kristel Kolvenbach's granddaughter would be virtually zero. But in a small town -- well, small towns everywhere are rife with gossip, but in Germany they raise it to an art form.

people who believed the world to be an undignified,inglorious place, and who spent their evenings and nightstalking on and on about the mistakes others had made. They werepeople whom solitude had made into the judges of the world,whose verdicts were scattered to the four winds for whoever caredto listen

This is a small town, so everyone talks. Ironic, isn't it__o few people, so many opinions?

Did you know that the origin of the word gossip in English is "god-sibling"? It's the talk between people who are godparents to the same child, people who have a legitimate loving interest in the person they talk about. It's talk that weaves a net of support and connection beneath the people you want to protect.

You and your husband have, I think, been very fortunate to know so little, by experience, in your own case or in that of your friends, of the wicked recklessness with which people repeat things to the disadvantage of others, without a thought as to whether they have grounds for asserting what they say. I have met with a good deal of utter misrepresentation of that kind. And another result of my experience is the conviction that the opinion of "people" in general is absolutely worthless as a test of right and wrong. The only two tests I now apply to such a question as the having some particular girl-friend as a guest are, first, my own conscience, to settle whether I feel it to be entirely innocent and right, in the sight of God; secondly, the parents of my friend, to settle whether I have their full approval for what I do. You need not be shocked at my being spoken against. Anybody, who is spoken about at all, is sure to be spoken against by somebody: and any action, however innocent in itself, is liable, and not at all unlikely, to be blamed by somebody. If you limit your actions in life to things that nobody can possibly find fault with, you will not do much

Rumours began with the whispered gossip of native servants and spread quickly to the rest of the population.

At school, the news that Pia Kolvenbach was moving to England and that her parents were divorcing had circulated with lightening speed. Suddenly I was no longer ostracized for being the Potentially Exploding Girl, but the new attention was worse. I could tell that the girls who sidled up to me and asked with faux-sympathetic smiles whether it was true were doing it on the basis of discussions they had heard between their own parents, to who they would report back like scouts. Soon there would be nothing left of me at all, nothing real: I would be a walking piece of gossip, alternatively tragic and appalling and, worse of all, a poor thing.

This is a rumour-filled society and if people want to sit around and talk about whom I've dated, then I'd say they have a lot of spare time and should consider other topics. Or masturbation. - Johnny Depp

Put the fire out? Hell no. What we need to do is stoke it.

Are you holding her?_ Wrath asked. There was a pause. __s soon as I get this bow tied in the back__old on, girlie. Okay, up you go. She__ in a pink dress that Cormia made her by hand. I hate pink. I like it on her, though__ut keep that to yourself._ Wrath flexed his hands. __hat__ it like?_ __ot totally hating pink? Pretty fuck__hrm, frickin_ emasculating._ __eah._ __o not tell me Lassiter__ been metrosexualizing even you. I heard he talked Manello into going for a pedicure with him__ut I__ praying that__ just gossip._-Wrath & Zsadist