Quotes About Silence

Every deed and every relationship is surrounded by an atmosphere of silence. Friendship needs no words -- it is solitude delivered from the anguish of loneliness.

Allowing ourselves to become a nation of silent, secretive, timid citizens is likely to result in a system of democracy and justice that is neither very democratic nor very just.

Lock her up"—as a prong of Make America Great Again—became a promise to weaponize the machinery of law to silence, threaten, and isolate women. In the end it didn't even matter whom the pronoun "her" referenced. For crowds who embraced it, it was a generalized promise that after centuries of women's diligent efforts at bending and shaping and coaxing the law into affording them equal protection and dignity, their gender itself could become a crime.

If you attempt an actual argument with a paper of the opposite politics, says Chesterton, "you will have no answer except slanging or silence.

Os dois degraus da varanda — "Fui justo", repete, "fui justo" —, com mão firme gira a chave. Abre a porta, pisa na carta e, sentando-se na poltrona, lê o jornal em voz alta para não ouvir os gritos do silêncio.

Silence. What's this what's this oh my god can a men ever get lower can a man ever be less? Weariness and gasping convulsive exhaustion. All life dead all life wasted and becoming nothing less than nothing only the germ of nothing. A kind of sickness that comes from shame. A weakness like dying weakness and faintness and a prayer. God give me rest take me away hide me let me die oh god how weary how much already dead how much gone and going oh god hide me and give me peace.

The sun in its slow descent filtered great cathedral-moats of gold through latticed boughs of pine and birch and maple. It was that time of day- or afternoon- when the forest's breath, sun-stunned, yearning for night, impalpably swoons to the slow pulsations of blood and time and silence.

Hmmmm. But what do the dead say? Did

I want to be there to remind them I haven't got a tongue to stick into the cheek I haven't got either.

It was silence so dense that it ceased to be silence.

I hope to turn my reader into the quiet person in the corner who, even when no one is telling them anything, sees everything.

I miss the snow. I miss looking at it, walking in it, tasting it. I used to love those days when it was so cold everyone else would be tucked away inside trying to stay warm. I would be the only one out walking, so I could look across the fields and see miles of snow without a single footprint in it. It would be completely silent -- no cars, no birds singing, no doors slamming. Just silence and snow. God, I miss snow. The stars, the moon, the wind, and blankets of pure, pristine snow.

Everyone quietly took their seats and waited. It was not an uncomfortable silence. On the contrary, it was very relaxing and peaceful; you could sit engaged in your own contemplations without fear of being disturbed. I felt very welcome there.

Most of their conversations are in the past by now. They've reached that stage in the proceedings and both of them know it and don't speak of that either. But there is still great softness in two hands linked together on a tabletop.

For she too has her little pains, and they wear her out, though she does not speak of them, or is not asked, and when they show themselves it tends to be when she's alone.

When the girl herself is absent, the room is like a blank page, almost no marks or clues to say anything about her, which perhaps does say something about her.

It is true that all of us are the beneficiaries of crimes committed by our ancestors, and it is true that nothing can be done about that now because the victims are dead and the survivors are innocent. These are good reasons for keeping our mouths shut about the past: but tell me, what are our reasons for silence about atrocities still to come?

Nayl sighed and looked ahead at the turning starfields. The future lay ahead, its back to them, saying nothing.

The emptiness, the way his heels rang on the asphalt,was satisfying, emphasised his aloneness. A man alone, alone late at night with no one to say he should be home in bed.

But it's the cool silence of that stone church that I remember the most. It was heady and gave me life. It was there that I could escape the scrutiny and expectations of being a child of color and the son of a preacher.

We had to walk a million hundred miles back to class in single file. Everybody was being really quiet. Nobody wanted to get in trouble with Mr. Klutz. I looked around for Mr. Granite, but I couldn't find him.

that everybody has to stop talking.

Our lips would be sealed. But not sealed with glue or anything. That would be gross.

The whole world needs to STFU.