Quotes About Silence

There wasn't a trace of thrusters now.

Death must be so beautiful. To lie in the soft brown earth, with the grasses waving above one's head, and listen to silence. To have no yesterday, and no tomorrow. To forget time, to forgive life, to be at peace.

Yes, death. Death must be so beautiful. To lie in the soft brown earth, with the grasses waving above one's head, and listen to silence. To have no yesterday, and no to-morrow. To forget time, to forget life, to be at peace. You can help me. You can open for me the portals of death's house, for love is always with you, and love is stronger than death is.

Death must be so beautiful. To lie in the soft brown earth, with the grasses waving above one's head, and listen to silence. To have no yesterday, and no tomorrow. To forget time, to forgive life, to be at peace.

If one doesn't talk about a thing, it has never happened. It is simply expression that gives reality to things.

It seems to me that we all look at Nature too much, and live with her too little. I discern great sanity in the Greek attitude. They never chattered about sunsets, or discussed whether the shadows on the grass were really mauve or not. But they saw that the sea was for the swimmer, and the sand for the feet of the runner. They loved the trees for the shadow that they cast, and the forest for its silence at noon.

the Garden of Death Yes, death. Death must be so beautiful. To lie in the soft brown earth, with the grasses waving above one's head, and listen to silence. To have no yesterday, and no to-morrow. To forget time, to forget life, to be at peace. You can help me. You can open for me the portals of death's house, for love is always with you, and love is stronger than death is.

The long black nights, when the moon hides her face, when the stars are afraid, are not so black. The silence that dwells in the forest is not so black. There is nothing in the world so black as thy hair.

And now I wonder what the old man remembers about her these days. Maybe nothing. Maybe silence has cured him of memory . Maybe there's an absolute vacuum in the anathema of age

It bothered him to think that the listeners might look at him as a broken down reel, trapped by sameness of his grief. Afterwards he would realize he had left out whole chunks of what he truly wanted to say.

The wind surged in a roar, then died down like it was pondering some heavy shit, then started back up like before.

she wanted to find a place within the sounds where nobody could find her.

A volte sono depresso e non apro bocca per giorni. In quei casi, non deve pensare che sia di cattivo umore. Basta lasciarmi stare e presto mi passa.

estuvimos paseando juntos dos horas, la mayor parte del tiempo sin hablar, como corresponde entre dos hombres que se conocen íntimamente.

Todo mal tienes dos remedios; el tiempo y el silencio.

If what one has to say is not better than silence, then one should keep silent.

What is the good of being ready with the tongue? They who encounter men with smartnesses of speech for the most part procure themselves hatred. I know not whether he be truly virtuous, but why should he show readiness of the tongue?

Among his own country folk Confucius wore a homely look, like one that has no word to say.

Avant d'ouvrir la bouche, assure-toi que ce que tu vas dire est plus beau que le silence.

Perhaps in the world's destruction it would be possible at last to see how it was made. Oceans, mountains. The ponderous counterspectacle of things ceasing to be. The sweeping waste, hydroptic and coldly secular. The silence.

They spoke less and less between them until at last they were silent altogether as is often the way with travelers approaching the end of a journey.

He lay listening to the water drip in the woods. Bedrock, this. The cold and the silence. The ashes of the late world carried on the bleak and temporal winds to and fro in the void. Carried forth and scattered and carried forth again. Everything uncoupled from its shoring. Unsupported in the ashen air. Sustained by a breath, trembling and brief. If only my heart were stone.

He'd half meant to speak but those eyes had altered the world forever in the space of a heartbeat.

The nights were blinding cold and casket black and the long reach of the morning had a terrible silence to it.