Quotes About Stillness

The present had somehow ceased to be an emergency.

These beThree silent things:The falling snow… the hourBefore the dawn… the mouth of oneJust dead.

Who neither touched nor spoke? whose nape, whose finger-ends nervelessly lied the hours away?

a precise, detached calliper-grip holds the stars and the quarter-                           moon in arrest:

Peace is its own reward.

I want you to feel in 'Riversong' like you're floating down a river on your back, and you're looking at the stars, and everything is incredibly still and peaceful.

On all the peaks lies peace.

Delete nothing. Move nothing. Change nothing. Learn everything.

Beware of silent dogs and still waters

Not looking for any argument in the dark.

Nothing beats the majestic silence.

Nothing beats the prestigious silence.

Between closed lips no fly can pass.

The place where no harm can come is the place where nothing at all can come.

Still the noise in the mind: that is the first task - then everything else will follow in time.

But two things I have ever respected are warmth and the ability to sit still." Martha

You have taught me to be still, so that I could move properly. You have taught me to listen, so that I can speak properly. You have taught me to see, so that I might not always be seen.

I discover that waiting may be accomplished in divers ways. And stillness has many . . . appearances, as does warmth.

You have to imagine a waiting that is not impatient because it is timeless.

Thou hast led me through my crowded travels of the day to my evening's loneliness. I wait for its meaning through the stillness of the night.

Sit still my heart, do not raise your dust. Let the world find its way to you.

The world is the ever-changing foam that floats on the surface of a sea of silence.

The discipline of the writer is to learn to be still and listen to what his subject has to tell him.

At evening, with the sun no longer overhead, the air developed a kind of viscosity in which time seemed to stand very still and the labyrinth of the city, no longer bisected by light and shade and unstirred by the afternoon breezes, appeared suspended in a kind of dream, paused in an atmosphere of extraordinary pallor and thickness.