Quotes About Silence

And slowly a discussion begins—as Morrie has wanted all along—about the effect of silence on human relations. Why are we embarrassed by silence? What comfort do we find in all the noise? I am not bothered by the silence. For all the noise I make with my friends, I am still not comfortable talking about my feelings in front of others—especially not classmates. I could sit in the quiet for hours if that is what the class demanded.

Suddenly it was terribly quiet, as if the earth itself were too stunned to breathe. I know this sound; silence is part of music. But just because something is silent doesn't mean you aren't hearing it. Frankie

Some of them she had seen for four years without exchanging a word. But that was how high school worked; it issued a verdict and you behaved accordingly.

For a while, we just ate like that, a sick old man, a healthy, younger man, both absorbing the quiet of the room. I would say it was an embarrassed silence, but I seemed to be the only one embarrassed.

And slowly a discussion begins - as Morrie has wanted all along - about the effect of silence on human relations. Why are we embarrassed by silence? What comfort do we find in all the noise?

All parents damage their children. This was their life together. Neglect. Violence. Silence. And now, someplace beyond death, Eddie slumped against a stainless steel wall and dropped into a snowbank, stung again by the denial of a man whose love, almost inexplicably, he still coveted, a man ignoring him, even in heaven. His father. The damage done.

I am not bothered by the silence. For all the noise I make with my friends, I am still not comfortable talking about my feelings in front of others—especially not classmates. I could sit in the quiet for hours if that is what the class demanded.

I didn't want to live anymore," I whispered. "I know. I heard you." "How? I never spoke." "Despair has its own voice. It is a prayer unlike any other.

And slowly a discussion begins as Morrie has wanted all along—about the effect of silence on human relations. My are we embarrassed by silence? What comfort do we find in all the noise?

Dizzy Gillespie, the jazz trumpet player, once said, "It's taken me all my life to learn what not to play." He was one of my special ones. And he was quite correct. Silence enhances music. What you do not play can sweeten what you do. But

What happened? she asked. During that war? He had never quite told her. It was all understood. Soldiers, in his day, did what they had to do and didn't speak of it once they came home. He thought about the men he'd killed. He thought about the guards. He thought about the blood on his hands. He wondered if he'd ever be forgiven. I lost myself, he said.

Then, after showing the pill and some graphics, those same people appeared again, looking happier. The Reb and I watched in silence. After it ended, he asked, Do you think those pills work? Not like that, I said. No, he agreed. Not like that.

He told me a story. A man buried his wife. At the gravesite he stood by the Reb, tears falling down his face. "I loved her," he whispered. The Reb nodded. "I mean… I really loved her." The man broke down. "And… I almost told her once." The Reb looked at me sadly. "Nothing haunts like the things we don't say.

The air went dead. All sounds disappeared. It was like that T. S. Eliot poem, "the still point of the turning world," as if the entire planet held its breath.

Sully did this now, finished unfinished sentence, believing that the words people do not speak are louder than the ones they do

You cannot talk when you first arrive. He smiled. It helps you listen.

Your voice will come. We all go through the same thing. You cannot talk when you first arrive." He smiled. "It helps you listen

His mind had forgotten the pathway to his voice.

Nothing haunts like the things we don't say.

I noticed that in Tokyo people didn't smell. It was funny. I couldn't smell them, and they didn't say very much: the trains were packed but it was quite silent, like being jammed into a carriage with a thousand shop-window mannequins.

All women speak two languages: the language of men and the language of silent suffering. Some women speak a third, the language of queens.

He] [w]ent deep into the cave where wounded men go when they walk around not talking to anyone about what's happening to them on the inside. Also known as Terre Haute.

It leaves space for your thoughts to echo

Saeed's father wept only when he was alone in his room, silently, without tears, his body seized as though by a stutter, or a shiver, that would not let go, for his sense of loss was boundless, and his sense of the benevolence of the universe was shaken, and his wife had been his best friend.