Quotes About Silence

Dire la mer. Parce que c'est tout ce qu'il nous reste. Parce que devant elle, nous sans croix ni vieil homme ni magie, il nous faut bien avoir une arme, quelque chose, pour ne pas mourir dans le silence et c'est tout.

Cosí vide, alla fine, all'improvviso, il cielo sopra il palazzo macchiarsi del volo di centinaia d'uccelli, come esplosi via dalla terra, uccelli d'ogni tipo, stupefatti, fuggire ovunque, impazziti, cantando e gridando, pirotecnica esplosione di ali, e nube di colori sparata nella luce, e di suoni, impauriti, musica in fuga, nel cielo a volare. Hervé Joncour sorrise. Seta

Sia così gentile allora da dirgli che mi mancherà. Voglio dire che prima o poi smetterà di rompermi i coglioni ovunque io vada, e io proverò lo stesso sollievo che si prova quando in una stanza si spegne il motore del frigorifero, ma anche lo stesso sgomento inevitabile, e la sensazione, che lei certo conoscerà, di non essere sicuri di sapere cosa farsene di quell'improvviso silenzio, e forse di non esserne in fondo all'altezza.

Per tutto il tempo che concesse al destino, solo ombre e silenzi furono ciò che quel singolare palcoscenico lasciò filtrare

I love you, I thought. But I didn't say it. It was not that I feared she would laugh in my face. She was far too kind for that. My fear was a greater one— that she won't say it back.

It hurts too much so I don't want to talk about it.

the radio silence. Shit, he said.

I have a great sense of Stuart and silence on these nights. The village, wrapped in sleep; owls glide between the yew trees, badgers poddle across the graves. Then Stuart, cleaving the peacefulness. All people, gone. No educational experts, medical specialists, bullies, policemen. His mother's disapproval, hot on his heels, runs out of breath after half a mile. It is Stuart and the earth, just those two.

There was no need for words, for there are times when words can only hint at what the heart would wish to say.

We are human and vulnerable, whatever our individual situation: The moon looks on them all The Healers and the brilliant talkers The eccentrics and the silent walkers The dumpy and the tall.

those who have a great deal to complain about are so often silent in their suffering, while those who have little to be dissatisfied with are frequently highly vocal about it.

Words that are full of hurt sometimes need to be left in the air where they have been spoken.

Mrs. Moffat had taken her hand, for comfort, and they had sat there in silence for a while. Sometimes it seemed as if the world itself was broken, that there was something wrong with all of us, something broken in such a way that it might not be put together again; but the holding of hands, human hand in human hand, could help, could make the world seem less broken.

There were times, she thought, when 'ah' said everything that needed to be said

In the lives of most of us, the list of unsaid things was, he thought, a long one.

Undisclosed failings, she thought; that great weight we all carry around with us, some of us for all our lives, unable to speak about them, unable -- involuntary Atlases all -- to share the burden.

When you don't talk about something, then something will talk about itself for you.

People who looked after animals were by and large kind people; they simply practised kindness, unlike those who made much of it. Thus, thought Isabel, are virtues best cultivated—in discretion and silence, away from the gaze of others, known only to those who act virtuously and to those who benefit from what is done.

They were silent. It was not easy to see a solution to the problem of human need. It was easy to condemn those who stole, who poached wildlife, until you were asked what would you do if your only other option was starvation? That made it harder.

William closed his eyes in sheer ecstasy. "Look, I know it's absolutely no notice at all, but would you by any chance be free for dinner tonight?" he asked. Again there was a silence. And then, once again, came the words to boost any heart—even that of a middle-aged wine dealer, a failed Master of Wine, and a failed everything else—"What a lovely idea! Yes, of course.

These days people seemed to suggest that you should talk about everything, even those things that people never talked about in the past, but did this make life any easier? She was not sure. In fact, she thought there were occasions on which talking about distressing things merely kept those things alive, whereas not talking about them, consigning them to the past, forgetting them, allowed one to think about things that were positive, things that made the world a bit better.

I rode to meet you: dreams like living beings swarmed around me and the moon on my right side followed me, burning. I rode back: everything changed. My soul in love was sad and the moon on my left side trailed me without hope. To such endless impressions we poets give ourselves absolutely, making, in silence, omen of mere event, until the world reflects the deepest needs of the soul.

Sauvage, sad, silent, as timid as the sylvan doe, in her own family she seemed a strangeling.

The stunned knight came upon a field Where nothing lived, just scattered skulls and bones. What battle had been fought, what did it yield? No one remembers why the screams and groans. Why are you mute field? Why overgrown with grasses of oblivion?