Quotes About Silence

whatever he did, never to peach on a fellow

It's in the silence you feel you hear.

Bazen de korkusunun nedenleriyle flört ederdi. En karanl?k ve dar sokaklar? seçer ve cüretkarca yürürken ad?mlar?n?n çevresindeki sessizlik onu rahats?z eder, çevresindeki karanl?k siluetler onu rahats?z eder, alçak, kaçamak bir gülüÅŸ onu yaprak gibi titretirdi.

He turned his face over a shoulder, rere regardant. Moving through the air high spars of a threemaster, her sails brailed up on the crosstrees, homing, upstream, silently moving, a silent ship.

Secrets, silent, stony sit in the dark palaces of both [29]our hearts : secrets weary of their tyranny : tyrants willing to be dethroned.

He turned back the way he had come, the rhythm of the engine pounding in his ears. He began to doubt the reality of what memory told him. He halted under a tree and allowed the rhythm to die away. He could not feel her near him in the darkness nor her voice touch his ear. He waited for some minutes listening. He could hear nothing: the night was perfectly silent. He listened again: perfectly silent. He felt that he was alone.

He added in a preacher's tone: —For this, O dearly beloved, is the genuine Christine: body and soul and blood and ouns. Slow music, please. Shut your eyes, gents. One moment. A little trouble about those white corpuscles. Silence, all.

She does not answer. In the silence the rain is heard falling.]

But lassies are trained for it, in a manner of speaking; it's part of the growing-up process for them, young females. It doesn't happen with boys, just if you're a lassie, you've got to learn how not to talk; plus how not to look, you get trained how not to look. How not to look and how not to talk. You get trained how not to do things.

When the procession reached the other end of Pennsylvania Avenue, soldiers carried the flag-draped coffin up the steps of the Capitol. The crowds watched in silence as the soldiers carried the coffin inside and laid it upon a platform. It was left under the dome with a guard of soldiers keeping watch over the dead president.

I found it difficult to look at him at that moment.

Here's the strange thing about death. At a certain age it's always with you, lurking in the shade, pulling at your ankles, whispering in your ear when you pass a crypt. But it doesn't get your real attention until you find yourself alone at home and the wind swells inside the rooms and stresses the joists and lets you know what silence and solitude are all about.

The lack of expression in Detective Benbow was the kind you see in people who have witnessed events that forever change their view of the world. They never talk about it or struggle with it. Instead, they accept the fact that human beings are capable of deeds Satan couldn't think up.

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I do not mean to assault anyone's sensibilities, but once you face death or reach out and touch it with your hand, or look into the half-lidded eyes of a woman or child or man whose life has been violently taken, you bond with them and silently try to console them for the theft of their lives. You promise to carry them in your heart and never tell anyone about it. I think that's what humanity is about.

about voices that can cry out for help in our sleep.

He has finally learned that lying to oneself is an offense for which human beings seldom grant themselves absolution. He comes to believe that acceptance of a wintry place in the soul and a refusal to speak about it to others is as much consolation as a man gets, and for some odd reason that thought seems to bring him peace.

Giving words to ideas was too dangerous in their world. When Poppa did give words to something, though, it was for a reason. It had weight.

It made me a bit sad, truth be to tell it, to watch them hundreds of white folks crying for the Negro, for there weren't hardly ever any Negroes present at most of them gatherings, and them that was there was doodied up and quiet as a mouse. It seemed to me the whole business of the Negro's life out there weren't no different than it was out west, to my mind. It was like a big, long lynching. Everybody got to make a speech about the Negro but the Negro.

Truth is, lying come natural to all Negroes during slave time, for no man or woman in bondage ever prospered stating their true thoughts to the boss.

You don't speak much, do you? ter Borcht said, circling him slowly. Fittingly, Fang said nothing. Vhy do you let a girl be de leader? ter Borcht asked, a calculating look in his eye. She's the tough one, Fang said. Dang right, I thought proudly. Is dere anysing special about you? asked ter Borcht. Anysing vorth saving? Fang pretended to think, gazing up at the ceiling. Besides my fashion sense? I play a mean harmonica.

Tears were dripping onto my dress, but I wasn't making any sound. There was no sound to express thid kind of pain. I didn't want to move, didn't want to do anything. Fang was not waiting for me out in the living room. Tomorrow morning, when I woke up, Fang would still be gone.

I never miss a good chance to shut up

When I wanted information, it was silent; when I didn't want to hear from it, it got chatty. It was alost as irritating as Fang.