Quotes About Silence

I just -- I know my own heart and I love you, Turner. And if you have even the tiniest shred of decency, you'll say something because I've said everything I possibly can, and I can't bear the silence, and -- oh for heaven's sake! Will you at least blink?" He couldn't even manage that.

There," she said triumphantly. "Like that." He began to wonder if they were speaking the same language. "Like what?" "That! What you just said." He crossed his arms. It seemed the only acceptable reply. If she couldn't speak in complete sentences, he saw no reason why he had to speak at all.

This was killing her. She had to break the silence. This was not natural. It was too awful. People were meant to talk.

Is what worth it?' He let go of her hand just long enough to wave at the crowd. 'This. This endless parade of parties' ... She fell silent for a moment, her eyes taking on a faraway look as she said, 'But yes, I suppose it is worth it. It has to be worth it ... I want a husband. I want a family. It's not so silly when you think about it. I'm fourth of eight children. All I know are large families. I shouldn't know how to exist outside of one.

Francesca couldn't say anything, because that would just make her mother feel even worse, and so instead they stood there as they always did, thinking the same thing but never speaking of it, wondering which of them hurt more.

They marched back to the kitchen in silence, the only sound being Rufus's growl when Dunford tried to pet him. "Can a rabbit growl?" he asked, unable to believe his ears. "Obviously he can.

Did words have meaning if they were never heard?

I don't even know that I could have located it on a map.' There was another silence, this one more awkward than the last. Daniel decided it was time to address the aural chasm and said, 'Well.' Which, as usual, bought him enough time to think of something marginally more intelligent to say: 'I have peppermints in my office.

No, I'm not going to forget it, I've spent my life forgetting things, not saying them, never telling anyone what I really want.

They sat in silence for several minutes, Richard downing his glass of whiskey while Iris carefully sipped hers. She liked it, she decided. It was hot and cold at the same time. How else could one describe something that burned until it made you shiver?

For a moment he did nothing but stare. "Hasn't it ever occurred to you that every thought and feeling doesn't need to be given voice?" "Yes," she said, a lifetime of regrets wrapped into that single syllable. "All the time." She looked away, discomforted by the odd, hollow sensation rumbling in her throat. "I can't seem to help myself, though.

He didn't want to talk about it, he didn't want listen to explanations.

Instead he said something like: "Oh, well." Or perhaps, "Quite so." Either way, it served the purpose of making a noise without saying anything at all.

And then they left, and all was quiet, but it wasn't peaceful. Just empty.

Better to be a silent fool than a talkative one.

And it occurred to her that for a woman who opened her mouth every other second, there was an awful lot inside of her that she'd never shared.

Dave Camp has been very much influenced by, and often guided by, the radicalization of the Republican Party... and too often failed to speak out.

Twitter, Instagram - I don't do it at all.

My father was intelligent and closed-mouthed. He knew a lot more than what he was ever going to tell you.

I don't talk a lot when I interview. My job is to get out of the way.

Victor's beast leaned toward me and licked my cheek once more—a goodbye kiss. I smelled the warm fur and musk scent that was at once and entirely Victor and saw the moonlight reflected in his scarlet eyes. Then he rushed away into the underbrush, nearly silent despite his huge bulk, and disappeared.

The doctor from the mainland came and went. Silence settled over the island again, like a displaced curtain falling back in thickened, heavier folds. For there was a different quality in the silence now. It had tasted something, rich food on which it had long been thinly rationed. Shadowy things were trooping up, called by that scent of blood, like flies that smell carrion. They were not strangers to the old house; they had been ill-fed and at a distance, now they were hungry and avid and near.

I despise charity. It gives crumbs to a few and silences the others.

Each admission here defies a blood vow determined long before my birth. An apologist is a traitor of the highest order. How many men, how many fathers ever admit to failures or offenses? The act itself is a betrayal of the basic code. It sprays shrapnel of guilt in all directions. If one of us is wrong, the whole structure and story come tumbling down. Our silence is our bond. The power of not telling, of not letting on, is the most ancient and powerful weapon in our arsenal.