Quotes About Silence

Does he still talk about it?" "No. Is it anything to talk about? Is it anything to be proud of?" "Is it anything to be ashamed of?" "Yes. You know that, don't you?" Carol asked in her even, distinct voice. "In the eyes of the world it's an abomination.

The gag stifles all screams and eliminates all but the most violent moans, while allowing tears to flow without constraint. There was no question of using it that night. On the contrary, they wanted to hear her scream." She'd

I see something of a comrade in you. You like a book. Silent revelation on a page pleases you better than a self-bolstering display of verbal spillage. What do you see in me?

We sit together in silence for a while. This is what I have always liked about James. We can make a good silence together. There's something between us that doesn't need words or actions. It settles around us and I can feel it now, hovering gently, ready to wrap me in its nebulous folds, like a delicate lace shawl. I want it to be like this always, something inside us meeting and holding hands, something calm and soothing and healing.

Where does music go when it's not playing?—she asked herself. And disarmed she would answer: May they make a harp out of my nerves when I die.

Reality prior to my language exists as an unthinkable thought. . . . life precedes love, bodily matter precedes the body, and one day in its turn language shall have preceded possession of silence.

I see myself abandoned, solitary, thrown into a cell without dimensions, where light and shadows are silent phantoms. Within my inner self I find the silence I am seeking. But it leaves me so bereft of any memory of any human being and of me myself, that I transform this impression into the certainty of physical solitude. Were I to cry out — I can no longer see things clearly — my voice would receive the same indifferent echo from the walls of the earth.

A note exists between two notes of music, between two facts exists a fact, between two grains of sand no matter how close together there exists an interval of space, a sense that exists between senses — in the interstices of primordial matter is the line of mystery and fire that is the breathing of the world, and the continual breathing of the world is what we hear and call silence.

The sea, the sea's swell, silent and breathless.

Instead of obtaining myself by fleeing, I find myself forsaken, alone, tossed into a dimensionless cubicle, where light and shadow are quiet ghosts. In my interior I find the silence I seek. But in it I become so lost from any memory of a human being and of myself that I make this impression into the certainty of physical solitude. If I were to scream - already without lucidity I imagine - my voice would receive the same, indifferent echo of the walls of the earth

One way of getting is not looking, one way of having is not asking...

Mis desequilibradas palabras son el lujo de mi silencio.

I'm stalling. I know that everything I say is just to put it off-to put off the moment when I'll have to start talking, knowing that there is nothing more for me to say. I'm putting off my silence. Have I been putting off silence for my whole life? but now, in my disparagement of the word, perhaps I'll finally be able to start talking." (14)

Now I know: I'm alone. I and my freedom that I don't know how to use. Great responsibility of solitude. Whoever isn't lost doesn't know freedom and love it. As for me, I own up to my solitude that sometimes falls into ecstasy as before fireworks. I am alone and must live a certain intimate glory that in solitude can become pain. And the pain, silence. I keep its name secret. I need secrets in order to live.

Cerra as janelas do quarto — não ver, não ouvir, não sentir. Na cama silenciosa, flutuante na escuridão, aconchega-se como no ventre perdido e esquece. Tudo é vago, leve e mudo.

às vezes não se tem o que escrever mesmo quando se tem o que falar.

Quando rezava conseguia um oco de alma - e esse oco é o tudo que posso eu jamais ter. Mais do que isso, nada. Mas o vazio tem valor e a semelhança do pleno. Um meio de obter é não procurar, um meio de ter é o de não pedir e somente acreditar que o silêncio que eu creio em mim é resposta e meu - a meu mistério.

But this is not eternity, it is condemnation. How opulent this silence is. It is the accumulation of centuries. It is the silence of a cockroach looking. The world looks at itself in me. Everything looks at everything, everything experiences the other; in this desert things know things. Things know things as much as this… this something that I shall call pardon, if I wish to save myself within the human plan. It is pardon in itself. Pardon is one of the attributes of living matter.

Ahora lo sé: soy sola. Yo y mi liberad que no sé usar. La gran responsabilidad de la soledad. Quien no está perdido no conoce la libertad y no la ama. En cuanto a mí, asumo mi soledad. Que a veces se extasía como ante los fuegos artificiales. Soy sola y tengo que vivir una cierta gloria íntima que en la soledad pueda convertirse en dolor. Y el dolor, en silencio.

The world had reclaimed its own reality, and, just like after a catastrophe, my culture had ended: I was merely a historical fact. Everything in me had been reclaimed by the beginning of time and by my own beginning. I had passed on to a first, primary plane, I was in the silence of the winds and in the age of tin and copper - at the first age of life.

quero não o que está feito mas o que tortuosamente ainda se faz. Minhas desequilibradas palavras são o luxo de meu silêncio.

Solamente otra persona que lo hubiera experimentado sabría lo que ella sentía, pues de casi todo lo que importa no se sabe hablar.

The heart must present itself alone to the Nothing and alone beat out in silence its palpitations in the shadows. You only sense your own heart in your ears. When it presents itself completely naked, it's not even communication, it's submission. For we were only made for the little silence, not for the silence of the stars.

Juro que este libro está construido sin palabras. Es una fotografía muda. Este libro es un silencio. Este libro es una pregunta.