Quotes About Silence

You have to be able to make them silent; it's the silence that allows you to hear that glorious moment when the middle C vibrates with the middle tone of all things, the center of time, the hum of tide through a sea urchin's spines, the golden mean that is the exact middle between two extremes, the way courage exactly cuts the difference between recklessness and cowardice.

Maybe the forest is a prayer tonight, bent under the weight of all that winter, the whole world on its knees. Or maybe the prayer is the hush. Could I pray this way, letting the night settle onto my thoughts like snow on my shoulders, that gently? Hush. My snowshoes shuffle through the drifts. Hush: one snowshoe, then another. There is no other sound.

location. Alaina gave a last pat to the freshly made bed in the newly occupied room and sat down on it, facing Mindy. She smoothed the quilted bedspread beside her as she asked, "Will you sleep here now?" Mindy's nod came without hesitation, but again there were no words, only the fleeting smile

The best way to keep a nation down is to silence their leadership," Jack said.

Tory was starting to feel a little foolish standing here with her hands in the air. It was like the whole bar had assembled to watch her nails dry. Why didn't someone say something?

Listen, Joe, is your offer to oh and ah over my presents still good?" "Sure." "Then give me a minute to close up and we'll go upstairs." Go upstairs? Joe wasn't sure what to say. And when Joe wasn't sure what to say, he said nothing at all.

I grew to appreciate the company of people who listen to the world. They don't feel the need to talk all the while. They were alert to bird-cries, waves sucking on rocks, a rope frittering against a mast.

Your eyes are everything. (Maybe why some people give up on talking.)

Women might be beaten senseless by their husbands in the house next door, but it was never mentioned.

The two men sipped their drinks silently, allowing Alastair a moment more to assess his visitor. The MacGregor tartan had been his idea. He wanted no one to suspect what was afoot. His guest's face, however, was difficult to make out. Despite the fire's warmth, the man seemed reluctant to remove the plaid from his head and

I do not know Whether I spoke or heard The word That fills all silence.

There was a whole vocabulary of suffering, eloquent in its wordlessness, which gave voice to all the things she couldn't do or say.

Someday a sentence will come to me, a magic sentence that will undo all that is wrong and make everything right. But until that sentence comes, I say nothing.

The three of us spend much of our week together at art museums and botanic gardens and other tourist attractions. We are drawn to these places of silent staring and confused, enervated wandering because they make us seem and feel less like freaks as we stare in speechless shock at one another.

The eyes those silent tongues of love. —CERVANTES

I nod. I don't speak. His eyes rob me of words, they seem to draw the air from my mouth so that I can barely breathe.

At the mention of 9/11, everybody went silent. The events of that day had changed Americans, none more than firefighters.

She wanted them to live in union with God and with one another. Silence was at the root of that union, for God was 'the friend of silence':

We need silence to be alone with God, to speak to him, to listen to him, to ponder his words deep in our hearts. We need to be alone with God in silence to be renewed and transformed. Silence gives us a new outlook on life.

Of necessity, theirs must often be an interior silence, surrounded as they were for much of the time by noise and restlessness. To make possible true interior silence she told her Sister they would practice

That thick silvery hair of his—which had felt like spun silk in her hands—parted slightly over the tips of his ears and spread out around him like a sparkling halo. He lay on his back, one arm thrown above his head, his face softer in sleep, the angles less harsh. His pale skin appeared to glow in the darkness, highlighting the muscles of his chest, the ridges in his abdomen.

What other knowledge will my solitude and muteness bring? What other worlds?

When silence is God's only voice, And waiting on Him my only choice, A banner of faith I humbly raise And offer a sacrifice of praise. Though answers He may not impart, Forever I can trust His heart.

We spoke some, moving our mouths, forming words, saying nothing. Mostly we sat. It wasn't the comfortable silence of old friends accustomed to each other, but a dialogue of uneasiness.