Quotes About Silence

Place down the poison right before me To take my voice out of my chest And wash away my shameful glory Into the gleaming nothingness.

I'm silent. Silently, I'm ready To be transformed, earth, into you.

Thus I live, without singing at all. Neither sky nor earth is for me.

I am a Bard..." (From Avetik Isaakian, Armenian Poetry) I am a bard – I am a heaven bird, I need no any richness of the world. I love a flower and so charming lass In aromatic springs that never pass. I love a whisper, very gentle and long, And, in full silence, a despondent song.

I have ceased and desisted from smiling The frosty wind chills lips - say so long To one hope of which will be lesser, Instead there will be one more song. And this song, without my volition, I will give out for laughter and parable, For this that the silence of love Is to me simply unbearable.

Not that she could see, but it was unmistakable not to hear what he looked like.

So he made his remarks and felt entitled to make his remarks and I did not speak because I did not know how to respond to this person.

I suspected that if I kept up this curtailing, this cauterizing, all the distrust and systematic removal of myself from society, by age 20 it was more than likely I'd be at the stage of no longer opening my mouth to anyone, anywhere at all.

We can learn a lot about a person in the very moment that language fails them.

In this land I have made myself sick with silence In this land I have wandered, lost In this land I hunkered down to see What will become of me. In this land I held myself tight So as not to scream. -But I did scream, so loud That this land howled back at me As hideously As it builds its houses. In this land I have been sown Only my head sticks Defiant, out of the earth But one day it too will be mown Making me, finally Of this land. -Charlie's poem

We were being offered exile on condition that we were silent about the reason we needed it. The silence chafed; it made us feel we were betraying those we had left behind. The British government was insisting on dealing with Hitler as a reasonable fellow, as if hoping he'd turn into one.

Il ne lui répondit qu'une seule fois: 01:16 silence Voulait-il dire: fin du service, paix, calme, ou voulait-il dire: boucle-la?

K?pÄ"c es esmu vecs mu??is? · T?pÄ"c, ka jÅ«s nevienu nemÄ«lat. JÅ«s nekad ne?aujaties plÅ«dumam. JÅ«su nekad nav Å¡eit. Nekad mÅ«su vidÅ«. Nekad mÅ«su sarun?s un mÅ«su mu???b?s, nekad mÅ«su dzÄ«ru viduvÄ"jÄ«b?. T?pÄ"c ka jÅ«s neesat maigs, t?pÄ"c ka jÅ«s vienmÄ"r klusÄ"jat, un jÅ«su klusÄ"Å¡ana lÄ«dzin?s nicin?jumam…

En fait, tu te donnes des airs comme ça mais t'es un gentil, toi... -Ta gueule.

Niemand fragt, was in dieser Nacht auf allen Straßen, in allen Winkeln und entlegenen Wäldern im ganzen Land geschiet. Es ist eine Nacht ohne Gesetz. Es gibt kein Verbrechen, weil es keine Ankläger gibt. Es gibt keine Untat, denn keiner fordert Rechenschaft. Niemand hört, niemand sieht. Die Nacht hält sich die Ohren zu. Die Nacht macht sich im Dunkeln blind. Es wird nicht Morgen. Es dämmert nicht. Es wird nicht Tag.

So rescue yourself from these general themes and write about what your everyday life offers you; describe your sorrows and desires, the thoughts that pass through your mind and your belief in some kind of beauty—describe all these with heartfelt, silent, humble sincerity and, when you express yourself, use the Things around you, the images from your dreams, and the objects you remember.

continue, stared down at her feet. Her companion's

Lack of Faith" Yes, even when I don't believe— there is a place in me inaccessible to unbelief, a patch of wild grace, a stubborn preserve, impenetrable, pain untouched by the sleeping body, music that builds its nest in silence.

Yes, even when I don't believe— there is a place in me inaccessible to unbelief, a patch of wild grace, a stubborn preserve, impenetrable, pain untouched by the sleeping body, music that builds its nest in silence. — Anna Kamienska, "Lack of Faith," Astonishments: Selected Poems of Anna Kamienska . Paraclete Press (MA); First Edition edition July 1, 2007) Originally published 2007.

I've learned to value failed conversations, missed connections, confusions. What remains is what's unsaid, what's underneath. Understanding on another level of being.

My poems are more my silence than my speech. Just as music is a kind of quiet. Sounds are needed only to unveil the various layers of silence.

Everything was so quiet, as if the silence was listening.

Instead of my world, there would soon be only ice, snow, stillness, death; no more violence, no war, no victims; nothing but frozen silence, absence of life. The ultimate achievement of mankind would be, not just self-destruction, but the destruction of all life; the transformation of the living world into a dead planet.

It seemed to me we were fighting against the ice, which was all the while coming steadily nearer, covering more of the world with its dead silence, its awful white peace. By making war we asserted the fact that we were alive and opposed the icy death creeping over the globe.