Quotes About Silence

And when she played the clarinet it was as though the music came not from the instrument but straight out of her body, only passing through the clarinet to pick up some sweetness and sadness, and taking you to a real, silent place where there is no enemy, no struggle, and where everything is free from shame and treachery and clear of thoughts of betrayal.

just to break the silence. He always imagined that silence was somehow directed against him. Or that it was his fault.

Clopotele bisericilor si ale manastirilor au inceput acum sa bata, de departe si de aproape, dar si ele sunt undeva, inauntrul tacerii.

Al fin y al cabo, hay momentos en la vida de un individuo y de un pueblo en los que el silencio es una utilización abominable del lenguaje. No

I libri, loro non ti abbandonano mai. Tu sicuramente li abbandoni di tanto in tanto, i libri, magari li tradisci anche, loro invece non ti voltano mai le spalle: nel più completo silenzio e con immensa umiltà, loro ti aspettano sullo scaffale.

The grown-ups who still remembered usually chose to stay silent. To deny. To pretend they'd forgotten

Ta je planina bila naš susjed iza zida - težak, zatvoren i bezglasan susjed, vremešna i melankoli?na planina s navikama starog neženje koji uvijek održava potpunu tišinu, tako pristojna planina, zimska, koja nikad ne pomi?e namještaj, ne prima goste, ne bu?i i ne smeta, no kroz naše zajedni?ke zidove uvijek su prodirali, kao lak i uporan miris plijesni, hladno?a, mrak, tišina i vlaga turobnoga susjeda.

Raihana didn't know what to say to a man who was not her husband or relative. How could Kabir and Layla ask her to speak to this stranger? What did they want out of her? And then it struck her

In my head there's a broken balcony I fall off of when I speak.

Some of us are silent sufferers of a noisy disease.

The striking part of his communication is what he doesn't say, when saying something would make a difference.

Alcuni di noi soffrono in silenzio di un male rumoroso. E questo è quanto ho da dire sulla paura.

If she doesn't speak, she is making a choice. If she doesn't try, she can lose her chance forever. -An-mei

For all these years I kept my mouth closed so selfish desires would not fall out. And because I remained quiet for so long now my daughter does not hear me... All these years I kept my true nature hidden, running along like a small shadow so nobody could catch me. And because I moved so secretly now my daughter does not see me... We are lost, she and I, unseen and not seeing; unheard and not hearing, unknown by others.

And for all those years, we never talked about the disaster at the recital or my terrible accusations afterward at the piano bench. All that remained unchecked, like a betrayal that was now unbreakable. So I never found a way to ask her why she had hoped something so large that failure was inevitable. And even worse, I never asked her what frightened me the most: Why had she given up hope?

I tried to keep very still, but my heart felt like crickets scratching to get out of the cage.

as to our hopes, our dreams, our secret desires, we couldn't talk about those. They were to vague, too frightening, too important. And so they stayed inside us, growing like a cancer, a body eating away at itself. In retrospect I'm amazed how long our marriage lasted.

I was appalled at the idea. Evaporate? Would that happen to me? I wanted to expand, to fill the void, to reclaim all that I had wasted. I wanted to fill the silence with all the words I had not yet spoken.

you became an expert on silence?' she joked. 'I'm not an expert on anything. but I love language in all forms - sounds and words, facial expressions, hand gestures, body posture and its rhythms, what people mean but don't necessarily say with words. I've always loved words, the power of them.' 'so what's your favorite word?' 'hm, that's an excellent question.' he fell quiet, stroking his beard in thought.

Podrán callarnos, pero no pueden impedir que tengamos nuestras propias opiniones.

I love your silences, they are like mine. You are the only being before whom I am not distressed by my own silences. You have a vehement silence, one feels it is charged with essences, it is a strangely alive silence, like a trap open over a well, from which one can hear the secret murmur of the earth itself.

And silence. She liked the silence most of all. The silence in which the body, senses, the instincts, are more alert, more powerful, more sensitized, live a more richly perfumed and intoxication life, instead of transmuting into thoughts, words, into exquisite abstractions, mathematics of emotion in place of violent impact, the volcanic eruptions of fever, lust and delight.

I only regret that everybody wants to deprive me of the journal, which is the only steadfast friend I have, the only one which makes my life bearable, because my happiness with human beings is so precarious, my confiding moods rare, and the least sign of non-interest is enough to silence me. In the journal I am at ease.

I love your silences, they are like mine.