Quotes About Silence

Everything I think's private. I don't want the dead or telepaths to hear my mind.

I am so fragile I can't speak.

little whispering fidgeting of a shut-away congregation wondering who to pray to

the hour has not yet ended in which under a cloth of laurel I sat quite still.

there comes a tremor and there comes a pause

it is always midnight in those pools

I always speak to myself no more myself but a colander draining the sound from this never-to-be-mentioned wound

when a man rolls over and sighs

remembering better times whereas naming no names some of us would rather not remember something some of us have got enough bloody nightmares already

cold nights without streetlights walking to the sea perhaps

not looking up but lost in pause

they say the herons used to hang like lamps here giving off gloom

looking at the silent buildings, each one with a story to tell.

No person is your friend who demands your silence, or denies your right to grow.

Art is supposed to make you feel something, and I began to realize my appearance was my art. My body, my face, my scars told a story—my story. But I guess that's how life works sometimes—noticing beauty only in retrospect and poetry, in silence.

The glorious mystery is that listening for God holds power whether or not anything is heard.

When you don't speak the truth for years at a time, the words left unspoken slowly leak the air out of your connection. Even if, years later, you are ready to say what you couldn't earlier, the moment has passed. The details and circumstances have faded from memory, and yet the emotions linger.

Somewhere under the hurricane a sea turtle rows through silence.

At a certain moment, women in cultures that glamorize their images and suffocate their minds, that set them on pedestals while requiring their silence and modesty, cease to be either silent or modest.

All around me, the night lived its secret life.

Music Is The Wine That Fills The Cup Of Silence...

There are words, which should leave unspoken, and the true value of a man lies in the words the he has for not saying.

The robin brushes me at dusk. Our good bones fail. We leave no mark. His voice, she writes, was clear and quiet. I hear him singing in the dark. ("Edward Thomas' Daughter")

When you apologize that much, there's something you aren't saying.