Quotes About Unspoken

I could feel a million reasons, but there were no words to express them.

I remember how, as a boy, I used to collect the cork tips of my father's cigarettes and stick them in my stamp albums. I believed they contained his unspoken words, which one day would explain everything. I have not changed. Now I explore my memories, trying to discover the substructure hidden beneath my past actions, searching for the link to connect them all.

Like a kiss or caress in a Hindi movie, a husband's name is something intimate and therefore unspoken, cleverly patched over. And so, instead of saying Ashoke's name, she utters the interrogative that has come to replace it, which translates roughly as "Are you listening to me?

A mother understands what a child does not say.

You never read about the real pain. It lives where no word can travel.

Death says a million words that the heart can't pen.

A sound waiting to be a word.

There was something about our silence that made me comfortable. He wasn't talking to me, but I didn't feel ignored. I felt we were part of the same moment, and it didn't need to be defined.

They'd been friends for a little while but they'd never talked about how they felt.

The question is there in each silence. The question is there in the space between you. But you cannot bring it aloud.

Do you understand what I have not said and what you have not heard in this room that does not exist?

The American Dream is a major theme in the narrative of racial difference. The shadow side of that dream, which is not talked about, entails the plundering of racial "Others.

Không Ä'au Ä'á»›n nào lá»›n b?ng vi?c ph?i mang trong mình má»™t câu chuy?n không ???c k? ra.

The thing unspoken often settles most bitterly in the heart

My mother and Alexis had said no more than ten words to each other. The long silences were deafening

If she had only known, things might have been different between us, but I could never talk to her about it" [Jimmy about Molly]

For her too, she had words on her lips, which died unborn, lay in her mind and turned to poison.

Between them there was an aching void of forever-unspoken words - things that couldn't quite be said by either of them, perhaps things that couldn't be said at all. They were so close to each other that they could get no closer. This created enormous distance, which was heart-breaking but unutterable.

I love you, I said, but not out loud.

I had never felt the allure of another human being this strongly, warmth and curiosity mixing to form an unspoken question in the air.

I never talked about you much." I said to Hardy. My voice sounded odd to my own ears. Hardy stared into my eyes and nodded, understanding that some things mean too much to be expressed easily.

She thought of all the words that went unspoken in the world, throughout time: what happened to them, where did they go? What would happen if they were all spoken? How different would the world be then?

She was thinking of his mouth on hers. Which seemed only fair since he'd given a lot of thought to the same thing. "'Night," she whispered. "Night," he whispered back. And yet neither of them moved.

Even though it hurt, there are kinds of pain you couldn't speak out loud.