Quotes About Silence

Now,' Kaine say, 'now this man free, bo'n free, but still, any white man what say he a slave be believed cause a nigga can't talk fo the laws, not ginst no white man, not even fo his own self.

Realizing that the majority of kids that get molested feel that it is their fault, along with shame, those kids have no idea what to say or do to try to report anything, and add that with the lack of education, it is a complete recipe for disaster that leads to non-reporting of molestation.

You know when people say fine, it generally means 'leave me the hell alone because I don't want to talk about what's really bothering me.' (Susan)

To a guy, quality time consists of sitting in the same room and relaxing with a woman he's in love with, even if they are both doing a separate activity. When a guy is madly in love, being together is exciting. If the chemistry is right, the girl would not need continual conversation. Without comfortable silence, he will never feel like he can recharge his batteries.

Men don't respond to words. What they respond to is "no contact".

You don't know how to converse. Sometimes I think the spaces between the stars are filled with your silence.

The silence that followed was lovely, the silence of flowers blooming.

Miss Charlotte was often and spectacularly silent. But her silence was that of the woods and hills, a natural absence of speech. The maharani's, on the other hand, made Mrs. Watson think of the walled forts of Jaipur, a silence that watched and hid.

Her silence wasn't simply distracted; there was something unnerving about it. He felt as if he stood on the prow of a ship, watching the captain scan the horizon for signs of impending disaster only the latter could recognize.

He was silent. She hoped she'd injured his feelings—assuming he had feelings to injure in the first place.

But I expect you to have vacated your post before the end of the year." The dead silence burned. He stared empty-eyed at the rain. Remember this. This was what happened when he chose to indulge himself at her expense. It was she who lost her position, her home, and her hard-won proximity to her son.

The real emergency may be parents and children not having conversations or sharing a silence between them that gives each the time to bring up a funny story or a troubling thought.

being silenced by our technologies—in a way, "cured of talking." These silences—often in the presence of our children—have led to a crisis of empathy that has diminished us at home, at work, and in public life. I've said that the remedy, most simply, is a talking cure. This book is my case for conversation.

So it was like the old scenario that so often throws a shadow over the last days of people with cancer: we knew—she knew—we knew she knew—she knew we knew—and none of us would talk about it when we were all together.

It's a woman you see, that's what it is! It's a woman and, oh, she is lovely! She is hurt and is suffering but she makes no sound. Don't you see how it is? She lies quite still, white and still, and the beauty comes out from her and spreads over everything.

I'll do something, get into some kind of work where talk don't count. Maybe I'll just be a mechanic in a shop. I don't know. I guess I don't care much. I just want to work and keep quiet. That's all I've got in mind.

One conceals oneself standing silently beside the trunk of a tree and what there is of a reflective tendency in his nature is intensified. One shudders at the thought of the meaninglessness of life while at the same instant, and if the people of the town are his people, one loves life so intensely that tears come into the eyes.

In the lives of working people the dramatic and vita moments of death and birth are passed over in silence.

And so these people gathered and smoked cigarettes and talked and Enoch Robinson, the boy from the farm near Winesburg, was there. He stayed in a corner and for the most part said nothing.

You must try to forget all you have learned,' said the old man. 'You must begin to dream. From this time on you must shut your ears to the roaring of the voices.

It would have been funny if I had been an observer and not a participant, an idea that gave me a disconcerting insight into gossip. As I walked beside the silent Tamara, I realized that despite how entertaining certain stories were, at the bottom of every item of gossip there was someone getting hurt.

If we all packed our suitcases and boarded planes, what would be left of our country? If we bowed our heads and stayed quietly at home, permitting them to say that Islam allowed the assassination of writers and the execution of teenagers, what would be left of our faith?

There had not been this many words sounded in our house for a long time, and it was going to take a while to clean them out.

There are things that you cannot talk to your mother and father about, there are things that you cannot talk to your children about.