Quotes About Silence

My hours are married to shadow. No longer do I listen for the scrape of a keel On the blank stones of the landing.

The only quiet woman is a dead one

146 Stars Over the Dordogne Stars are dropping thick as stones into the twiggy Picket of trees whose silhouette is darker Than the dark of the sky because it is quite starless. The woods are a well. The stars drop silently. They seem large, yet they drop, and no gap is visible. Nor do they send up fires where they fall Or any signal of distress or anxiousness. They are eaten immediately by the pines.

I knew perfectly well the cars were making a noise, and the people in them and behind the lit windows of the buildings were making a noise, and the river was making a noise, but I couldn't hear a thing.

This is the way the world ends, this is the way the world ends, this is the way the world ends. Not with a bang but a whimper.

This love is silent.

You gave me hyacinths first a year ago; They called me the hyacinth girl.' —Yet when we came back, late, from the Hyacinth garden, Your arms full, and your hair wet, I could not Speak, and my eyes failed, I was neither Living nor dead, and I knew nothing, Looking into the heart of light, the silence. Od' und leer das Meer.

O dark dark dark. They all go into the dark, The vacant interstellar spaces, the vacant into the vacant

Your arms full, and your hair wet, I could not Speak, and my eyes failed, I was neither Living nor dead, and I knew nothing

Silence isn't golden and it surely doesn't mean consent, so start practicing the art of communication.

I learn a great deal by merely observing you, and letting you talk as long as you please, and taking note of what you do not say.

My nerves are bad to-night. Yes, bad. Stay with me. 'Speak to me. Why do you never speak? Speak. 'What are you thinking of? What thinking? What? 'I never know what you are thinking. Think.

If the lost word is lost, if the spent word is spent If the unheard, unspoken Word is unspoken, unheard; Still is the spoken word, the Word unheard, The Word without a word, the Word within The world and for the world; And the light shone in the darkness and Against the Word the unstilled world still whirled About the center of the silent Word. Oh my people, what have I done unto thee. Where shall the word be found, where shall the word Resound? Not here, there is not enough silence

Words move, music moves Only in time; but that which is only living Can only die. Words, after speech, reach Into the silence. Only by the form, the pattern, Can words or music reach The stillness...

After the torchlight red on sweaty faces After the frosty silence in the gardens After the agony in stony places The crying and the shouting Prison and place and reverberation Of thunder of spring over distant mountains He was living is now dead We who were living are now dying With a little patience

Endless invention, endless experiment, Brings knowledge of motion, but not of stillness; Knowledge of speech, but not of silence; Knowledge of words, and ignorance of the Word. Where is the Life we have lost in living? Where is the wisdom we have lost in knowledge?

Knowledge of speech, but not of silence; Knowledge of words, and ignorance of the Word... Where is the Life we have lost in living? Where is the wisdom we have lost in knowledge? Where is the knowledge we have lost in information?

The word within a word, unable to speak a word

Words move, music moves Only in time; but that which is only living Can only die. Words, after speech, reach Into the silence … Words, strain, Crack, and sometimes break, under the burden, Under the tension, slip, slide, perish, Decay with imprecision, will not stay in place, Will not stay still.

Where shall the word be found, where will the word Resound? Not here, there is not enough silence...

Dawn points, and another day Prepares for heat and silence. Out at sea the dawn wind Wrinkles and slides. I am here Or there, or elsewhere. In my beginning.

Each day a raid on the inarticulate--T.S. Eliot

Lady of silences Calm and distressed Torn and most whole Rose of memory Rose of forgetfulness Exhausted and life-giving Worried reposeful The single Rose…

Lady of silences Calm and distressed Torn and most whole Rose of memory Rose of forgetfulness Exhausted and life-giving Worried reposeful The single Rose Is now the Garden Where all loves end Terminate torment Of love unsatisfied The greater torment Of love satisfied End of the endless Journey to no end Conclusion of all that Is inconclusible Speech without word and Word of no speech Grace to the Mother For the Garden Where all love ends.