Quotes About Silence

In its purest, most fundamental form, meditation is the personal practice of quieting your mind. This involves a physical silence not only for you but also for your immediate surroundings.

I just don't know which is worse, to say nothing or to say too much.

If you were quiet about something then it never happened. Someone would write a song about it for sure. Everything you're not supposed to know about, or talk about, eventually turned up in a song. Some

When we walk I hear your footsteps and miss your voice

Si no hablabas de algo entonces no había sucedido. Pero seguro que alguien iba a escribir un corrido. Todo lo que supuestamente no se debe saber, eso de lo que no se debe hablar, tarde o temprano acaba en un corrido.

If she'd just kept her mouth shut, she would have been perfect, but no...

I can say anything, but the things I want to say are trapped in that wide open space so I don't say anything at all.

Sometimes I think he's just chosen to keep quiet because it is so much more interesting sometimes to just listen to people instead of talking to them.

Colpa è una parola che lui usa per farmi tacere

I do not think that hour there told me anything I could not have imagined myself, but being there, in that silence, gave me hope that at least there are no wars after death. I

There is a long time in me between knowing and telling." —GRACE PALEY

In space, nobody could hear you scream; on the Internet, nobody could tell if you were lying.

Still waters run deep, I'd thought. Later, I learned that silence did not necessarily guarantee depth.

I don't answer. I shut my eyes and hold my breath and hope whoever it is will think I'm not here and go home.

It's too empty. Too lonely. No one to see, nothing to do. But he hadn't told her no. As the first weeks and months had passed, Christina had come to cherish the solitude and the silence, the slant of late-afternoon sun that warmed the floorboards where her ginger cat slept.

But given that depression happened to me, and I did have support, I found it was possible after a time, to achieve a kind of joy totally disconnected from the world. I wanted to be unavailable and in that place without the pain. I still want it. It is coloured white and filled with a singing silence. It is an endless ice-rink. It is Antarctica.

Das Mädchen ist auf der Suche, es versucht zu sprechen, aber wie durch eine löchrige Dekoration scheint durch das Vokabular, an dem nichts eigentlich Falsches ist, immer eine schwarze, gähnende Leere hindurch.

I didn't understand it then, but I've come to see he was right about his choice to leave his country limiting him forever. We are all confined by what we choose. If I had taken the gift of his question, if I had shown him even the smallest piece of private history, things might be different today. But I was silent and have chosen to remain so for too long. Now even the smallest revelation would seem cataclysmic.

He yearned for a thousand tremulous dreams, for cool and delicate images, transparent tints, fleeting scents, and exquisite music from streams of highly strung, tensely drawn silvery strings — and then silence, the innermost heart of silence, where the waves of air never bore a single stray tone, but where all was rest unto death, steeped in the calm glow of red colors and the languid warmth of fiery fragrance.

From the dim woods on either bank, Night's ghostly army, the grey shadows, creep out with noiseless tread to chase away the lingering rear-guard of the light, and pass, with noiseless, unseen feet, above the waving river-grass, and through the sighing rushes; and Night, upon her sombre throne, folds her black wings above the darkening world, and, from her phantom palace, lit by the pale stars, reigns in stillness.

La mancanza di senape rattristò l'equipaggio. Mangiammo il nostro manzo in silenzio. La vita ci sembrava vuota e insignificante.

Only those who have worn the crown of suffering can look upon that wondrous light; and they, when they return, may not speak of it, or tell the mystery they know. Once

It was a glorious night. The moon had sunk, and left the quiet earth alone with the stars. It seemed as if, in the silence and the hush, while we her children slept, they were talking with her, their sister—conversing of mighty mysteries in voices too vast and deep for childish human ears to catch the sound. They

Slowly the golden memory of the dead sun fades from the hearts of the cold, sad clouds. Silent, like sorrowing children, the birds have ceased their song, and only the moorhen's plaintive cry and the harsh croak of the corncrake stirs the awed hush around the couch of waters, where the dying day breathes out her last.