Silence Quotes
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Really? Screaming?” He shrugged. “It wasn’t that bad. But there were definitely some freak-outs on both sides. Though, to be honest, the silence was worse.” “Worse than screaming?” I said. “Much,” he said, nodding. “I mean, at least with an argument, you know what’s happening. Or have some idea. Silence is… it could be anything. It’s just –” “So freaking loud,” I finished for him. He pointed at me. “Exactly.
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Silence gives us a new way of looking at something.
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ELECTED Silence, sing to me And beat upon my whorlèd ear, Pipe me to pastures still and be The music that I care to hear.
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In order to see birds it is necessary to become a part of the silence.
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So this blessing of loneliness was not really loneliness. Real loneliness was something unendurable. What one wanted when exhausted by the noise and impact of physical bodies was not no people but disembodied people; all those denizens of beloved books who could be taken to one's heart and put away again, in silence, and with no hurt feelings.
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Take the risk that you’ll end up regretting your speech, because it’s better than regretting your silence.
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Sighs and silences and avoided conversations are just as important as the things you do talk about.
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To everything there is a season. Yes. A time to break down, and a time to build up. Yes. A time to keep silence and a time to speak. Yes.
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Kerosene," he said, because the silence had lengthened, "is nothing but perfume to me.
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I say this because the Left has taken what passes for their principles as an absolute religion. They don't think anymore. They just react. When they have somebody like Barack Obama whom they put into office, they believed in the religious sense and, of course, that is a large part of the reason for their silence on these issues.
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Freedom is the silence of the law.
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We are contented with our day when we have been able to bear our grief in silence, and act as if we were not suffering.
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The first requirement for prayer is silence. People of prayer are people of silence.
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..."Are you okay?" he says, still looking at me, and I feel my smile slip, fade, and the silence that falls over us then is so total I can’t hear anything, not the rush-hiss of my heart pounding in my chest, not the sounds all around us; insects, wind, and the distant clatter of others’ lives in houses built close but not too close because when we look out our windows we all like to pretend that everything we see is ours. But Ryan is not mine.
