Quotes About Quiet

The noisy vacancy of youth, the quiet vacancy of age.

I have to be alone very often. I'd be quite happy if I spent from Saturday night until Monday morning alone in my apartment. That's how I refuel.

Spend some time alone every day.

Now that I'm married and have two beautiful children, it really makes me appreciate... being alone.

I want to be left alone.

I prize the privilege of being alone.

I like to be left alone when I'm not working.

By all means use some time to be alone.

I need some isolation, it's necessary to me, that's just who I am. I need to be left alone.

I want to be alone ... I just want to be alone.

I want to be alone with my thought.

When you want to be alone, even few people around you will seem like a tremendous crowd to you!

That one is sometimes able, among the disturbances of the present world, to wander into some good and beautiful whereabouts of the woods, grow quiet, and come to rest is a gift, a wonder, and a kind of grace.

You have taken me and quieted me. You have been such light to me that others have been your shadows. You come near me with the nearness of sleep. --Marriage, Wendell Berry

He has come into a wakefulness as quiet as sleep.

All I needed was to be alone and quiet and in the dark, so that my mind could concentrate itself of fearful things, and it could not be unconcentrated sometimes until daylight.

The Wild Geese (excerpt) Geese appear high over us, pass, and the sky closes. Abandon, as in love or sleep, holds them to their way, clear, in the ancient faith: what we need is here. And we pray, not for new earth or heaven, but to be quiet in heart, and in eye clear. What we need is here.

Aunt Beulah could hear the dust motes collide in a sunbeam; she could hear spiders chewing on flies.

Standing in the stanchion barn while the cows are being milked, I am impressed by how quietly the work is done. No voice is raised. There is never a sudden or violent motion. Although the work is quickly done, no one rushes. And finally comes the realization that the room is quiet because it is orderly:

If he was right, here was our quiet English house suddenly invaded by a devilish Indian Diamond - bringing after it a conspiracy of living rogues, set loose on us by the vengeance of a dead man.

We had come to see blackguards; but these men were something worse. There is a comic side, more or less appreciable, in all blackguardism — here there was nothing but tragedy — mute, weird tragedy. The quiet in the room was horrible.

Yet he was not all unhappy: the peace and quiet which he had never had when sane were his now; Nature had had mercy on him when she made him mad. He caught his sister once weeping as she looked at him, and he could not understand her tears: "Lisbeth," he asked, "why do you cry? Are we not happy?" On one occasion he heard talk of books; his pale face lit up; "Ah!" he said, brightening, "I too have written

He thought that it was loneliness which he was trying to escape and not himself. But the street ran on: catlike, one place was the same as another to him. But in none of them could he be quiet. But the street ran on in its moods and phases, always empty: he might have seen himself as in numberless avatars, in silence, doomed with motion, driven by the courage of flagged and spurred despair; by the despair of courage whose opportunities had to be flagged and spurred.

It is just dawn, daylight: that gray and lonely suspension filled with the peaceful and tentative waking of birds. The air, inbreathed, is like spring water. He breathes deep and slow, feeling with each breath himself diffuse in the natural grayness, becoming one with loneliness and quiet that has never known fury or despair. That was all I wanted, he thinks, in a quiet and slow amazement. That was all, for thirty years. That didn't seem to be a whole lot to ask in thirty years.