Quotes About Silence

It was only as he put his hand on the door that he became aware of complete silence beyond it, a silence which he at eighteen knew that it would take more than one person to make.

The clock tick-tocked, solemn and profound. It might have been the dry pulse of the decaying house itself, after a while it whirred and cleared its throat and struck six times.

He is thinking quietly: I should not have got out of the habit of prayer.

like old married people who no longer have anything in common, to do or to talk about, save the same general weight of air to displace and breathe and general oblivious biding earth to bear their weight...

He never denied it. He never did anything. He never acted like either a nigger or a white man. That was it. That was what made the folks so mad.

Oíamos la oscuridad.

They continued to jeer at him, but he said nothing more. He leaned on the rail, looking down at the trout which he had already spent, and suddenly the acrimony, the conflict, was gone from their voices…they too partaking of that adult trait of being convinced of anything by an assumption of silent superiority. I suppose that people, using themselves and each other so much by words, are at least consistent in attributing wisdom to a still tongue…

At night it is better still. I used to lie on the pallet in the hall waiting until I could hear them all asleep, so I could get up and go back to the bucket. It would be black, the shelf black, the still surface of the water a round orifice in nothingness, where before I stirred it awake with the dipper I could see maybe a star or two in the bucket, and maybe in the dipper a star or two before I drank. After that I was bigger, older.

He just stood and looked at his dying mother, his heart too full for words.

the listening part is afraid that there may not be time to say it. Dewey Dell - As I Lay Dying.

He says it harshly, savagely, but he does not say the word. Like a little boy in the dark to flail his courage and suddenly aghast into silence by his own noise.

She said nothing. She walked beside me, under my elbow sort of, eating. We went on. It was quiet, hardly anyone about getting the odor of honeysuckle all mixed She would have told me not to let me sit there on the steps hearing her door twilight slamming hearing Benjy still crying Supper she would have to come down then getting honeysuckle all mixed up in it   We reached the corner.

Our windows were dark. The entrance was empty. I walked close to the left wall when I entered, but it was empty: just the stairs curving up into shadows echoes of feet in the sad generations like light dust upon the shadows, my feet waking them like dust, lightly to settle again. I

The three quarters began. The first note sounded, measured and tranquil, serenely peremptory, emptying the unhurried silence for the next one and that's it if people could only change one another forever that way merge like a flame swirling up for an instant then blown cleanly out along the cool eternal dark instead of lying there trying not to think of the swing until all cedars came to have that vivid dead smell of perfume that Benjy hated so.

Hush now, she said. I'm not going to run away. So I hushed. Caddy smelled like trees in the rain.

Mrs Armstid does not rattle the stove now, though her back is still toward the younger woman. Then she turns. They look at one another, suddenly naked, watching one another; the young woman in the chair, with her neat hair and her inert hands upon her lap, and the older one beside the stove, turning motionless too, with a savage screw of gray hair at the base of her skull, and a face that might have been carved in sandstone. Then the younger one speaks.

Koridorun sonuna dönüyorum, f?s?lt? taburlar? gibi sessizlikte kaybolan ayaklar? uyand?ra uyand?ra benzine doÄŸru, saat karanl?k masan?n üstünde öfkeli yalan?n? söylemekte. Sonra perdeler karanl?ktan yüzüme doÄŸru üflüyorlar, soluklar?n? yüzüme b?rak?yorlar. Çeyrek var daha.

H???rd?yordu otlar, üzerinde gölgemin yürüdüÄŸü.

He went on down the hill toward the dark woods within which the liquid silver voices of the birds called unceasing- the rapid and urgent beating o the urgent and quiring heart of the late spring night. He did not look back.

Adoro los silencios incómodos, ¿usted no, doctor? Todo lo que implican. Llenan el vacío con la fuerza de las palabras no dichas. Porque lo que no se dice a veces es más inquietante.

There were plenty of things I was actually glad I had left unsaid. Still, the comment haunted me. It haunts me today. All the things I wish I had said when I had the chance. A moment recurs. We were

I said. I was silently horrified. What was wrong with these people? Peter had started sporting a beret—another bad sign.

There were plenty of things I was actually glad I had left unsaid. Still, the comment haunted me. It haunts me today. All the things I wish I had said when I had the chance.

Each generation was a rehearsal of the one before, so that that family gradually formed the repetitive pattern of a Greek fret, interrupted only once in two centuries by a nine-year-old boy who had taken a look at his prospects, tied a string around his neck with a brick to the other end, and jumped from a footbridge into two feet of water. Courage aside, he had that family's tenacity of purpose, and drowned, a break in the pattern quickly obliterated by the calcimine of silence.