Findings:

Here's the stuff we found when you searched for "what she was talking about"

Jesus said, "I love him, for he is my brother." He was talking about everyone.
All the while he was talking she was thinking what his whiskers would feel like on the back of her neck
How to tell when a journalist has no idea what they're talking about
Her innocence fell. She kicked at it some, frowned, and left it there because it was beautiful.
Talking about death 2
Dos and Don'ts For Talking to Children About Abuse
Talking about love is like dancing about architecture
She was most amazed by the obvious, like January and the fact that I could not possibly keep her.
The House on the Island Where She Was Born
I have no idea what you're talking about, so here's a picture of a bunny with a pancake on its head.
She was steady
She told me she remembers three things about me
The things she wonders about
The Abridged Edition: She was to one side, he was to the other, an untested bridge between them
little pieces of her tragically poetic attempts at being loved that she was startlingly aware of, today
When she was bad
I didn't have the heart to tell him I was lying about taco night, but at least the hellhound made some friends
She was cilantro, jalepeno, habanero. She was the hot plate you must not touch.
Talking about money is more taboo than talking about sex
The time they fantasize about was built on a lie
She was thinking of a boy in California who had a couch and a job
She was very beautiful. Y'know?
I was wrong about the color changing; your eyes are brown
She may be pretty and have more money than me but she doesn't write songs about you.
I said I was sorry. Then she looked at me.
The emotion on her face was always the one that she was feeling in her heart
She grew a little older, while he was telling her
Outside the train station she was the only person wearing an Orange raincoat and a look of surprise
she was waylaid by an octopus
She was so quiet that nobody heard her
She was a Surrealist Woman, She was like a Figure in a Dream
I'm talking about the kind of love that keeps you alive.
When she is talking to him
I'm not talking about
I fall silent, listening. The breadcrumbs are talking about us
Something was about to happen.
This was the shinest golden dollar I would ever see in my life and I was not about to tarnish it.
They don't realize they're talking about death but I can hear it behind their voices
For a lawyer she was surprisingly like a child. Sometimes.
piano outside in the snow. and she was spinning
In a quiet grove of pines under a frosty sky, he helped her out of the sack. She wore severe white hospital pajamas and was beautiful.
She was locked in time
What in God's holy name are you blathering about?
Talking about the weather
She was an intellectual prostitute, seducing me with profound truisms
He dreamt he was a bulldozer, she dreamt she was alone in an empty bed
She was pain and pleasure all at once, wrapped up in needles and Ramones T-shirts
She was watching me and I didn’t know it.
I was throwing around useless proverbs when all she needed was to be held and told that she was beautiful
I'm sorry I was speeding, officer, but I really have to get to the hospital
What Italian guys are really talking about when they say "Ey Oh"
She was the cutest necromancer I ever did see
The girl didn't know if she was loved until he said yes.
A dose of mystery slipped into her cocktail while she was in the ladies' room
She knew what she was doing
She was free
She is and was
She was never mine. I always shared her.
About gradual producing of the thoughts when talking
she was once a stealthy ghostship in the fog, now she shines wherever she walks
Besides the part where she was the only one
I am sorry but when you were talking I was admiring the shape of your lips and evaluating their kissability
Pete Townshend was right about Saddam Hussein
Every poem about thunder was written under the protection of a roof, or, at the very least, an empty sky
The Day the World was about to End
What if Everything You Thought You Knew About AIDS Was Wrong?
"I was surprised to hear about the cat."
The cult leader poured himself a drink and started on about his plans, and I wondered how the priest was getting on
this was supposed to be a parable about the power of the imagination
talking shit about a pretty sunset
The virgin was looking apprehensive about the whole ordeal, but for the right amount of cash anyone will take on a horse
did i really change the way you think about everything? was it the chemicals in your brain?
It hard to forget you now that my parents are okay with talking about you.
And I asked myself about the present: how wide it was, how deep it was, how much was mine to keep?
talking about other countries
Talking about death
When that cow would walk it was like she was dancing
Fast-talking career gal who thought she was one of the boys
most people don't know what they're talking about anyway
What the hell was she thinking?
To a girl who thought she was moving away
She moved so easily all I could think of was sunlight
She was a committed romantic and an anarcha-feminist. This was hard for her because it meant she couldn't blow up beautiful buildings.
When she was new, she rolled around the sky like a black umbrella blown by the wind
She was buttery. She was asking for it. She was delicious. Let's all give in.
She dreamt she was a bulldozer, she dreamt she was alone in an empty field
"He was a terrible man," she sobbed, between bites of alimony
It was always about words
And then night was here, after a day of measured breathing, and I could forget about breathing because the waiting was done
She was so pleased to learn that she was right
She was inside the music, with her eyes closed
She was the seed of a strange tomorrow
The flowers smiled, but she was gone
She always was all tea and oranges that came all the way from China
He stretched out his arms but she was not there
it was just as if she held her breath for 82 years
She probably thought your first language was English; your real first language was Joyce
She always was devious in her beauty
I was tired. It was late. She was Russian.
Her self image was not the force field she imagined it to be
Existentialism is that girlfriend who cheated on you. Postmodernism is who she was with.
She was cilantro, jalapeño, habanero. She was the hot plate you must not touch.
Jessica, too tall but still lovely, was not sure she would or should drop the whale
she was just the dry smell of gasoline
She had become a mutton for punishment and he was a wolf
She was like a candle in the wind: unreliable
Some times your elders may know what they're talking about
He was an ant on an ill-defined mission. She was the trapdoor spider of love.
Because, perhaps she was cold
And when she came back she was nobody's wife
She was the prettiest, loveliest cat at the ball and she had upon her fine gilded whiskers.
She was too beautiful to be human
She was feminine in the most displaced sense I had ever seen, a known quality refracted through stained glass windows.
She was coming out as he was going in.
She was so tall, and I was so in love
What are you talking about?
someday, when she will think back upon the time when she was as yet undishonored
I know what I'm talking about
The Joy of Pair Bonding: Talking About Sex
you never once told her how beautiful she was nor how much you truly loved her
She Was 18, It Was Summer
She didn't write like Emily Dickinson, but she did live in a house overlooking a cemetery, and I guess he thought that was important.
She didn't know what outside was anymore.
She thought about giving him her heart
There's Something About Mary
What About Bob?
We only care about the cute animals, everything else is food
I Kissed "Weird Al" Yankovic and All I Got Was This Lousy T-shirt
What is this crap about trick-or-treating on Saturday?
Feeling bad about a good deed
The good thing about using a horribly outdated file system
about nobody (superdoc)
Tell me a story about trains
about an Alice
precision vs. accuracy
about box
Things my mom doesn't argue with me about anymore
The Trick About Thawing Grapes
The secret truth about the PalmPilot
One good thing about gangs
What do girls think about guys who think about what other people think about girls and what they do?
About Koji - A Starter For Making Saké
A Story About Magic
You sad cookie, you CARE more about filthy rich pretty people you'll never meet
You forget about everything for a few months and everything changes
Conventional views about human cloning
The cluelessness of the press when writing about computer crime
Think About Mutation
What do you think about Human Clothing?
Don't talk about your mamma like that
I'm passionate about my plant life
Everything you wanted to know about hamsters, and then some!
What We Talk about When We Talk About Love
The Girl from Ipanema
Help me tell you a story about things and yourself, without pants
A joke about tax collectors
Quotes about robotic dinosaurs
Your radical ideas about society, individualism, and religion have already occurred to others
I don't acknowledge your existence either. Don't worry about it.
Your radical ideas about religion as a mechanism of social control have already occurred to others
I don't give a DAMN about your character
More Songs About Buildings and Food
LPPR: Illegal Speech About Drugs
You are the kind of girl my mother warned me about
Doctors know nothing about drugs
What Little I Know About Ingredients For Thai Cuisine
Stories about the injury of male genitalia
Something about parts of you
Why nodes about Canada suck
On reading letters that bitch about scantily-clad models on magazine covers
All About Touching

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