Quotes About Silence

Stay still. Stop talking. Stop wanting. Just be. You'll hear it, or feel it. Close your eyes and you'll see it.

Now we're not talking. I haven't seen him since. But I know when he comes back, we won't talk. Or if we do, we'll talk very, very politely and coldly--which is the same as not talking.

She hadn't told anyone. She'd swallowed it whole and pretended it meant nothing, and therefore it had come to mean everything.

A música é o silêncio entre as notas. — CLAUDE DEBUSSY

If you can't say anything nice, don't say anything at all.

Funerals all have the same smells and sounds.

her brother had not just gone into another room, he was gone, so gone, so silent, not a text not a post not a tweet not a word, and next thing she was struggling for breath and all she could think was, Get out.

She'd learned that with her daughters. Don't say a word. Don't ask a question. Give them enough time and they'll finally tell you what's on their minds. It was like fishing. It took silence and patience. (Or so she'd heard.

She could feel her cheeks burn as she typed in the two shameful words. "Domestic." "Violence.

You just didn't go there.

She'd learned that with her daughters. Don't say a word. Don't ask a question. Give them enough time and they'll finally tell you what's on their minds. It was like fishing. It took silence and patience. (Or so she'd heard. Cecilia would rather hammer nails into her forehead than go fishing.) Silence didn't come naturally to her. Cecilia was a talker.

She'd always known her reaction to that night had been too big, or perhaps too small. She hadn't ever cried. She hadn't told anyone. She'd swallowed it whole and pretended it meant nothing, therefore it had come to mean everything.

This was more like a funeral, although even funerals weren't this silent as people murmured their condolences. She was paying to be here and it was worse than a funeral.

Nothing can contribute more to peace of soul than the lack of any opinion whatever.

The time-deaf are unable to speak what they know. For speech needs a sequence of words, spoken in time.

So keep your mouth closed and let your eyes listen.

I was so often silent angry with Hammett for making the situation hard on me, not knowing then that the dying do not, should not, be asked to think about anything but their own minute of running time.

The air between us crackles, as it does when you speak of your beloved dead. But it's hard to know what to say next.

Can we have one day when we don't have to talk about the meaning of life? -I don't think we ever talk about anything else.

She stared at me and nodded into the silence between us, as if I were still talking and making perfect sense.

I meet Silas at the movie theater on Church Street. We choose seats close to the front. He's wearing a striped wool hat that he keeps on the whole movie, and our bodies never touch. I've never been more aware of not touching someone in my life.

It is a subtle violence, the violence of absence.

Han parkerar på min gata och vi hånglar lite till. Inget prat. Inga pussar. Kyssarna är långa och intima, som om vi berättar allt det vi behöver säga varandra på det här viset

There was nothing more to say so I kissed her and