Quotes About Silence

Ronnie, telefonun diÄŸer ucunda sessizdi. ''Tamam ama dikkatli ol.'' ''DüÄŸün gecesindeki bir bakire gibi.'' Güldü.''Sen yola gelmezsin.'' ''Herkes öyle diyor,''dedim.

What are you trying to say? Olaf demanded. She is like a piece of my soul, Olaf. You are mad, Olaf said, a lunatic. Soul mates, bah! I kind of agreed with Olaf on this one. Then why is the thought of giving her a gun while I hunt her one of my greatest fantasies? Edward asked. Because you are mad, Olaf said. Hear, hear, but I didn't say it out loud.

Silence is not a lie. A sin of omission, but not a lie.

Screaming was for when you didn't have anything better to do.

What do you say while someone whispers horrors in your ear, tells you their most intimate, nightmarish secrets? You sit and you listen. And you give them the only thing you can—the silence and the safety to talk and to be heard.

There are pains too deep for words, but there's touch to say what words can't. 'Can

We onlies, we fear the nothing. We fear the winds that howl around the last one standing. We fear the black silence of carrying those ever-fading histories alone.

Había pasado quince horas seguidas hablando y no podía pronunciar una palabra más.

Her mother would be appalled, but she wouldn't say anything. She would just telegraph her distress with tightened lips and raised brows. She was good at that. Clemmie's mother's brows were better than sign language, complicated concepts conveyed with the minimum of movement.

The pulsations of the arteries along my fingers pressing across hers, told her what was passing within me: she look'd down—a silence of some moments followed.

We lose the right of complaining sometimes by forbearing it

Do they choose to be so dense? Were they born that way? I have no friends. I have nothing. I say nothing. I am nothing.

Cold and silence. Nothing quieter than snow. The sky screams to deliver it, a hundred banshees flying on the edge of the blizzard. But once the snow covers the ground, it hushes as still as my heart.

I needed to hear the world but didn't want the world to know I was listening.

I see IT in the hallway. IT goes to Merryweather. IT is walking with Aubrey cheerleader. IT is my nightmare and I can't wake up.IT sees me. IT smiles and winks. Good thing my lips are stitched together or I'd throw up.

They say they have noticed me drawing. I almost tell them right then and there. They noticed.

He says a million things without saying a word. I have never heard a more eloquent silence.

I stuff my mouth with old fabric and scream until there are no sounds left under my skin.

The best time to talk to ghosts is just before the sun comes up.

The trick to surviving an interrogation is patience. Don't offer up anything. Don't explain. Answer the question and only the question that is asked so you don't accidentally put your head in a noose.

I just want to sleep. The whole point of not talking about it, of silencing the memory, is to make it go away. It won't. I'll need brain surgery to cut it out of my head.

There is a beast in my gut, I can hear it scraping away at the inside of my ribs. Even if I dump the memory, it will stay with me, staining me. My closest is a good thing, a quiet place that helps me hold these thoughts inside my head where no one can hear them.

This is the story of a girl who lost her voice and wrote herself a new one.

Ghosts are waiting in the shadows of the room, patient dull shimmers. The others can see them, too, I know it. We're all afraid to talk about what stares at us from the dark.