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.
― Alice Munro, Too Much Happiness