Quotes About Silence

Death is ear-splitting, it's shattering with absence; over time, it's quieter.

And then something happened. It was a fragment of time, a breath of time. It was like being in a car in pouring rain and driving under an overpass, and for just that second there is a profound, powerful sense of reprieve- the utter silence of non-rain.

A nervous silence loosens tongues

I received that caress several times - the only one I was able to tolerate - the silent gratitude of a woman receiving death at my hands. None wanted to endure pain and I think they were in a hurry to die. I don't know how many I killed - I who count everything, that was one thing I didn't count.

what does it matter if I've become mute in a world where there is no one to talk to?

I only know the stony plain, wandering, and the gradual loss of hope. I am the sterile offspring of a race about which I know nothing, not even whether it has become extinct. Perhaps, somewhere humanity is flourishing under the stars, unaware that a daughter of its blood is ending her days in silence. There is nothing we can do about it.

May, I am thinking, there is something hidden like this in all of us. A small gift from the universe waiting to be discovered. (233) Even the silence has a story to tell you. Just listen. Listen. (278)

I don't "take a lot of mess." I have no tolerance for people who are not thinking deeply about things. I have no tolerance for the kind of small talk that people need to fill silence, and I have no tolerance for people not being a part of the world and being in it and trying to change it.

Then for a moment like so many times before this I lost the words. Watched them drop . . . No. Dissipate . . . from the air between us. Dissipate. The word has shown up on my SAT prep tests again and again until it landed in this room with us. Between my mother. And me.

Think carefully about what you say, Assassin

What cannot be said above all must not be silenced but written.

Je respire comme une pierre

Sans fin regarder poindre une seconde nuit

Au fond, ce qui serait honnête, ce serait de remplacer le mur de ciment par un mur de papier, de mots, de cahiers: les passants pourraient lire ou déchirer, et s'ils déchiraient mes pages, nous serions enfin face à face; écrire, c'est ma façon d'être silencieux.

The sole philosophy open to those who doubt the possibility of truth is absolute silence -- even mental.

You go down to the bottom of the sea, where the water isn't even blue anymore, where the sky is only a memory, and you float there, in the silence. And you stay there, and you decide, that you'll die for them. Only then do they start coming out. They come, and they greet you, and they judge the love you have for them. If it's sincere, if it's pure, they'll be with you, and take you away forever.

Y se marcho Bajo la lluvia Sin decir palabra Sin mirarme Y me cubri La cara con las manos Y llore

Tocmai aceast? convingere c? trebuie s?-l satisfaci pe cel?lalt ne împiedic? s? primim pur ?i simplu anumite cuvinte, f?r? a face presupuneri. În loc s? ascult?m pur ?i simplu. s? primim, ne lans?m în c?utare de r?spunsuri, de solu?ii, în a analiza problema pe toate p?r?ile. Iar cel?lalt, din dorin?a de a evita aceste reac?ii previzibile, nu va îndr?zni s? se exprime, se va închide în t?cere.

Silence, like madness, is only comparative.

Here, in a few words, you've said all you need to say. People stand by each other, but they don't talk. It's remarkable. I've investigated the extraordinary history of these walls. I think I'm the only person who knows that it's the stones, the stones alone that set the tone here.

Speaking out about ritual abuse brings more information and potential understanding about this issue to a society steeped in denial. There are many similar or related horrors in the world that are also denied.

Life is one kind of sound. Death is another kind of sound. Those who cannot hear the sound of death think death is silence. Death is not silence, it is just another kind of sound, but may not within the hearing range of a normal ear.

Porque las mejores palabras del amor están entre dos gentes que no se dicen nada.

Tù, sin hablar, me miras y te aprietas a mí y haces tu llanto sin lágrimas, sin ojos, sin espanto. Y yo vuelvo a fumar, mientras las cosas se ponen a escuchar lo que no hablamos.