Quotes About Silence

that core essence that dwells beyond our chattering mind.

Speech after long silence; it is right,All other lovers being estranged or dead…That we descant and yet again descantUpon the supreme theme of Art and Song:Bodily decrepitude is wisdom; youngWe loved each other and were ignorant.

A thoughtOf that late death took all my heart for speech.

We sit and talk, quietly, with long lapses of silence and I am aware of the stream that has no language, coursing beneath the quiet heaven of your eyes which has no speech

Clayton reported Heber C. Kimball's recollection: "Joseph said that for men and women to hold their tongues, was their Salvation.

Now air is hush'd, save where the weak-ey'd bat,With short shrill shriek flits by on leathern wing,Or where the beetle windsHis small but sullen horn.

What you say is true,' said Fr. Dioscuros with a smile. 'You can pray anywhere. After all, God is everywhere, so you can find him everywhere.' He gestured to the darkening sand dunes outside: 'But in the desert, in the pure clean atmosphere, in the silence – there you can find yourself . And unless you begin to know yourself, how can you even begin to search for God?

In the silence that followed the end of the call to prayer, the songs of the first Delhi birds could suddenly be heard: the argumentative chuckle of the babblers, the sharp chatter of the mynahs, the alternating clucking and squealing of the rosy parakeets, the angry exclamations of the brain fever bird, and from deep inside the canopy of the fruit trees in Zafar's gardens at Raushanara Bagh and Tis Hazari, the woody hot-weather echo of the koel.

In regard to absurdism, Samuel Beckett is sometimes considered to be the epitome of the postmodern artist … In fact, he is the aesthetic reductio ad absurdum of absurdism: no longer whistling in the dark, after waiting for Godot, he is trying to be radically silent, wordless in the dark.

Put a bridle on thy tongue set a guard before thy lips, lest the words of thine own mouth destroy thy peace... on much speaking cometh repentance, but in silence is safety.

A speech is something you say so as to distract attention from what you do not say.

The dark world seemed to lie stricken beneath the cold moon and the lidless stars.

Talk, talk, talk: the utter and heartbreaking stupidity of words.

Our conversation changed. It usually had a busy, must-say-everything edge to it, even during the long, lazy days of waiting for waves on Tavarua. But out in the lineup, once the swells started pumping, large pools of awe seemed to collect around us, hushing us, or reducing us to code and murmurs, as though we were in church. There was too much to say, too much emotion, and therefore nothing to say.

I am firmly of the opinion that people who can't speak have nothing to say. It's one more thing we do to the poor, the deprived: cut out their tongues … allow them a language as lousy as their life

He feared that beyond the quilted gray satin of the undertaker's keep there was only a world of mystery that bypassed the comprehension of men and did not even take them into consideration. A world of utter darkness and the profoundest of silences.

Fleming was silent. He'd been given the kiss of death. He did not want to be nice. He wanted to be wild and reckless, a rake and a rambling man, the highwayman who came riding, riding up to the old inn door.

She had grown stingy with words, whole days spent in sullen silence, as if her supply of words was being exhausted and she must parcel them out one by one.

Few of the stories one has it in one's self to speak get spoken, because the heart rarely confesses to intelligence its deeper needs; and few of the stories one has at the top of one's head to tell get told, because the mind does not always possess the voice for them. Even when the voice is there, and the tongue is limber as if with liquor or with love, where is that sensitive, admiring, other pair of ears?

Silently, like thoughts that come and go, the snowflakes fall, each one a gem.

We may give more offense by our silence than even by impertinence.

And in my boyhood, I have wandered oft a week of days in that Country of Silence, and had my food with me, and slept quietly amid the memories; and gone on again, wrapped about with the quiet of the Everlasting.

And afterwards the People did wander over that Country of Silence, and made visit and honour to their Ancestors, if such were deserving.

She hung up and the room was a fist of silence.