Quotes About Silence

How deeply I loved him, and how I didn't want him to know.

The quiet in her was talking to the quiet in him. When

He appeared to be listening, but he said nothing. His youthful face was deceiving, but his violet eyes were truly wonderful.

Where was he now, my beauteous pupil? I listened but I heard nothing.

Open your ears, my darling; listen to their prayers; listen to the silence of those who've learned to pray for nothing. For nothing has always been their portion, whatever the name of their nation, their city, their tribe.

My grief for Aaron would never go away, and I'd endured it for years without a word to either of my vampire companions, Louis or Lestat.

Allow me to watch at the garden window in silence as you paint your walls.

Cemetery. It had been the golden time of evening when the sun is gone and everything gives back the light it has absorbed all day long.

An empty house has its own special silence. It is like a great held breath.

He was a man who fucked in silence. And when he climaxed, long, hard, endlessly, inside her tight body, he heard his voice in the darkness. Calling her name.

She started to speak, but then stopped. Anything she could think of to say seemed a mistake. In fact, speech in general seemed a mistake. It struck her all at once that dealing with other human beings was an awful lot of work. from Back When We Were Grownups.

You know what you remind me of? The telegram Harpo Marx sent his brothers: No message. Harpo." That made him grin. Sarah said, "You would think it was funny." "Well? Isn't it?

If you can't say something nice,' " Jason mumbled, " 'don't say nothing at all.'

Leroy remained silent, and no wonder; Maggie knew how chirpy and artificial she sounded. An old person, trying too hard. But if only Leroy could see that Maggie was still young underneath, just peering out from behind an older face mask!

Oh," he said. That seemed to satisfy him. At least, he didn't ask anything more. In the silence that followed, Willa's eyes met her sister's, and the two of them exchanged a long, stunned, stricken gaze.

The silence is all there is. It is the alpha and the omega, it is God's brooding over the face of the waters; it is the blinded note of the ten thousand things, the whine of wings. You take a step in the right direction to pray to this silence, and even to address the prayer to World. Distinctions blur. Quit your tents. Pray without ceasing.

Whenever there is stillness there is the still small voice, God's speaking from the whirlwind, nature's old song, and dance...

Silence is not our heritage but our destiny; we live where we want to live.

Nature's silence is its one remark, and every flake of world is a chip off that old mute and immutable block.

The silence is not suppression; instead, it is all there is.

There was only silence. It was the silence of matter caught in the act and embarrassed. There were no cells moving, and yet there were cells. I could see the shape of the land, how it lay holding silence. Its poise and its stillness were unendurable, like the ring of the silence you hear in your skull when you're little and notice you're living the ring which resumes later in life when you're sick.

Nature's silence is its one remark, and every flake of world is a chip off that old mute and immutable block. The Chiense say that we live in the world of ten thousand things. Each of the ten thousand things cries out to us precisely nothing.

We can live any way we want. People take vows of poverty, chastity, and obedience--even of silence--by choice. The thing is to stalk your calling in a certain skilled and supple way, to locate the most tender and live spot and plug into that pulse. This is yielding, not fighting. A weasel doesn't attack anything; a weasel lives as he's meant to, yielding at every moment to the perfect freedom of single necessity.

it is everlastingly funny that the proud, metaphysically ambitious, clamoring mind will hush if you give it an egg.