Quotes About Silence

Podrías ahogarte con tanto silencio.

The adults, though. They don't say much about him. Or to him. And no other Gungans come to see him, either. Nobody even says his name.

Shut up and write.

T?cerea face parte din conversa?ie.

The convention of not answering back allows able women a scornful superiority, flashing out in looks, in suppression of comment, withheld speech; quellingly disdainful, devastatingly critical, but always held in check. This pent-up power, secretly triumphant because unrealised, is the incendiary device at the heart of Jane Eyre, and of all Charlotte Brontë's works.

I discovered I could hate her a bit, and because I didn't tell her so, because our friendship went along on this reduced, part-time scale that didn't allow for arguments, there was no noticeable change in our relationship.

She didn't get a chance to demonstrate any of her skills—the man was just fucking her mouth, plain and simple.

Remove your shoes and place them beside the mat. Then you will kneel, ass on your heels, knees spread wide, hands resting on your thighs palms up, eyes on the floor. You will wait here until we are ready for you. You will not move out of position until directed to do so. You will not speak unless spoken to directly and a response is required. Is that understood?

Even knowing all, being forbidden to tell. Even wanting to help, rescue is impossible. I know of no condition more painful than that.

The guy who isn't in the know can't understand ... how hard it is to be in the know and still not say.

The world's continual breathing is what we hear and call silence.

O que não sei dizer é mais importante do que o que eu digo.

Music is the space between the notes.

Claude Royet-Journoud

The princess stared wide-eyed after her silent teacher. She lifted the hem of her robe and followed. Is this your secret geomancer society? No. Could you please not say 'secret geomancer society' out loud?

The walls cried out to him. And voices cried out as well from the shadow of the past. He stood and listened to them, and now a strange thing struck him. The voices were there, but he did not hear the words.

In this room, he told himself, history might have been written, the course of cosmic empire might have been shaped and the fate of stars decided. But now there was no sign of life, just a brooding silence that seemed to whisper in a tongueless language of days and faces and problems long since wiped out by the march of years.

Alone and in the silence, I sensed the purpleness - the formless, subtle personality of the things that owned this planet. There was a friendliness, I thought, but a repulsive friendliness, the fawning friendliness of some monstrous beast. And I was afraid.

A lark sailed out of a grassy plot and soared high into the sky, and seeing it, he waited for the trill of liquid song to spray out of its throat and drip out of the blue. But there was no song, as there would have been in spring. He

He stood quietly in the dark and silence, and the voice of a century of living seemed to speak to him in a silent language. All things are hard, it said. There is nothing easy.

It was as though in these last minutes together--when they had so much to say--they could say nothing of the least significance, for fear it open the floodgates.

Stories had a way of doing that, in Grillo's experience. It was his belief that nothing, but nothing, could stay secret, however powerful the forces with interests vested in silence. Conspirators might conspire and thugs attempt to gag but the truth, or an approximation of same, would show itself sooner or later, very often in the unlikeliest form. It was seldom hard facts that revealed the life behind the life. It was rumour, graffiti, strip cartoons and love songs.

It's always what may not be shown that shows the most. Forbidden words are always the most eloquent.

Extinct," Steep murmured. "Yes." He smiled. "Extinct, extinct, extinct." It was like a mantra: