Quotes About Silence

We rode in silence, I think all of us wondering what was behind the flowery wallpaper our perceptions had always pasted on the unknown. All the things the mind won't allow us to see, to protect our sanity, or our soul, or maybe just to keep the shit out of our pants.

Raskolnikov realised in that moment that it was no longer possible for him to talk to anyone about anything, ever.

His silence helps him come off as something of a seer, a whispering muse.

When there are no words, know that the silences are carrying the thoughts and prayers of all who love you.

I wanted silence in the flowers, not to not say, but to not have the impulse of saying.]

Even the mantis has stopped praying

Time to silence the Hegelian Dialect

I never discuss a novel while I'm writing it, for fear that talking about it will diminish my desire to write it.

The men stood back, chanting a song of one who would not be forgotten, of loved ones lost and returned to the earth, and of the land itself which does not die but is always born anew with each fall of the long rains. They chanted of life, which is short as a spear of summer grass or long as the heart of the Rift itself, and of the silent land that waits beyond.

Yes, but you usually aren't ... Well, I have to keep them covered or else you lose the power of speech

He paused again, letting his words settle like stones falling to the bottom of a pond.

One scandal sheet called him a child of Lucifer while the quality press seemed to think him a rakishly charming fellow who had nobly chosen to go mutely to the gallows rather than excite further scandal by breaking his silence.

Yes, the lad stole a fox pup but the Spartans had very strict rules against thievery. He hid the animal in his cloak, and rather than allow his misdeed to be found out, he let it gnaw out his vitals while he kept his silence." "And your point is?" he asked acidly. "Simply this: that truth is like that fox pup. If you suffer its ill effects in silence, it can do irreparable harm. Perhaps even kill you.

I have often regretted my speech, never my silence.'" "A

I can only quote Xenocrates, dear lady. 'I have often regretted my speech, never my silence.

The Spartan boy and the fox?" "Yes, the lad stole a fox pup but the Spartans had very strict rules against thievery. He hid the animal in his cloak, and rather than allow his misdeed to be found out, he let it gnaw out his vitals while he kept his silence." "And your point is?" he asked acidly. "Simply this: that truth is like that fox pup. If you suffer its ill effects in silence, it can do irreparable harm. Perhaps even kill you.

An untold story has a weight that can submerge you, sure as a sunken ship at the bottom of the ocean.

I would have spoken, had my heart not been in my throat

You can hold a secret, hold it so far in that it drives nearly every thought and every move you make- your very heartbeat, almost.

It is one of those moments where there is so much to say that there is nothing to say, no adequate words, anyway, to speak it all.

What came next wasn't exactly silence, because although it was quiet, a thousand things were being said. I hated that part about an unhappy household--that feeling of being perched and listening, the way an animal must feel at night in the dark, assessing danger.

Usually, I set one foot in a library and I feel my own internal volume lower. A library is a physical equivalent of a sigh. It's the silence, sure, but it's also the certainty of all those books, the way they stand side by side with their still, calm conviction. It's the reassurance of knowledge in the face of confusion.

It's both harder and easier without words.

That night, after we turned out the light, the red digital numbers of the bedside clock stared me down. I tried to ignore it, but of all household objects, bedside clocks are the most insistent, more than beeping refrigerators and door alarms, more than kitchen timers and even blaring radios. It's the strong silent types that get you.