Quotes About Silence

We're silent now, both waiting, till I remind myself that I'm the older one and should therefore initiate conversation. But I don't. I don't want to waste this girl with idle chitchat. She's beautiful.

The words. Why did they have to exist? Without words, the Fuhrer was nothing.

I'm sorry. I shouldn't be asking such things...' She let the sentence die its own death

The soft-spoken words fell off the side of the bed, emptying to the floor like powder.

Awkward. That's exactly how it was when we walked over to our sister and stood on each side of her, looking at her and feeling things and not knowing what to do.

He switched off the light, came back and sat in the chair. In the darkness, Liesel kept her eyes open. She was watching the words.

What good are the words?

I called back, but not loud enough, probably. I don't like making noise in public

Silence was not quiet or calm, and it was not peace.

The only sound I'll hear after that will be my own breathing, and the sound of the smell, of my footsteps

The dilemma, of course, is that such people save their most important words for after, when the surrounding humans are unlucky enough to find them.

One sat painfully now, among the falling chunks of rain, and the other stood next to her, waiting. "Why did he have to die?" she asked, but still, Rudy did nothing; he said nothing. When finally she finished and stood herself up, he put his arm around her, best-buddy style, and they walked on. There was no request for a kiss. Nothing like that. You can love Rudy for that, if you like.

Where Hans Hubermann and Erik Vandenburg were ultimately united by music, Max and Liesel were held together by the quiet gathering of words.

Papa was an accordion. But his bellows were all empty. Nothing went in and nothing came out.

She sang a song, but it was so quiet that Liesel could not make it out. The notes were born on her breath, and they died at her lips.

Clay - who was the quiet one, or the smiler - only turned, one last time, and stared across the sunlit district of statues, crosses, and gravestones. They looked like runners-up trophies. Every last one.

Det enda jag hör efter det är min egna andhämtning och ljudet av lukten, av mina egna steg

It's funny how when you watch people from a long distance, it all seems voiceless. It's like watching a silent movie. You guess what people say. You watch their mouths move and imagine the sounds of their feet hitting the ground. You wonder what they're talking about and, even more so, what they might be thinking.

Why me?" I ask God. God says nothing. I laugh and the stars watch. It's good to be alive.

God never says anything. You think you're the only one he never answers?

Apesadumbrada, se dio cuenta de que los relojes no suenan a nada que se parezca siquiera a un tictac, sino al ruido que hace un martillo, arriba y abajo, golpeando una y otra vez contra el suelo. El sonido de una sepultura.

El silencio siempre era la mayor de las tentaciones.

No começo, Liesel não conseguiu dizer nada. Talvez fosse a súbita turbulência do amor que sentiu por ele. Ou será que sempre o tinha amado? Era provável. Impedida como estava de falar, desejou que ele a beijasse. Quis que ele arrastasse sua mão e a puxasse para si. Não importava onde a beijasse. Na boca, no pescoço, na face. Sua pele estava vazia para o beijo, esperando.

Liesel was tempted to ask her the meaning, but it never eventuated.