Silent Quotes
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Prayer is a silent surrendering of everything to God.
Soren Kierkegaard
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Silent is the ruined land. Man is brutal and the rain does not wash away the pain or rid the distant memory. It makes it glisten.
Cecil Castellucci
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You plan to be a challenge, do you?" Juliana smiled angelically. "I agreed to remain, my lord. Not to remain silent.
Sarah MacLean
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I love the silent hour of night, for blissful dreams may then arise, revealing to my charmed sight what may not bless my waking eyes.
Anne Bronte
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Imagine that for hundreds of years your most formative traumas, your daily suffering and pain, the abuse you live through, the terror you live with, are unspeakable - not the basis of literature. You grow up with your father holding you down and covering your mouth so another man can make a horrible searing pain between your legs.... You learn how to leave your body and create someone else who takes over when you cannot stand it any more. You develop a self who is ingratiating and obsequious and imitative and aggressively passive and silent - you learn, in a word, femininity.
Catharine MacKinnon
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Her silent course advance With inoffensive pace, that spinning sleeps On her soft axle.
John Milton
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When I am dead, and over me bright April Shakes out her rain drenched hair, Tho you should lean above me broken hearted, I shall not care. For I shall have peace. As leafey trees are peaceful When rain bends down the bough. And I shall be more silent and cold hearted Than you are now
Sara Teasdale
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Unity, agreement, is always silent or soft-voiced; it is only discord that loudly proclaims itself.
Thomas Carlyle
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A silence reigns upon the air, Upon the pansies by the shore, Upon the violets, pale and fair, Upon the willow, bending o'er; The reeds and lilies silent grow, The dark green waters silent sleep, Save when the summer breezes blow, Or silvery minnows leap.
George Arnold
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We hear the rain fall, but not the snow. Bitter grief is loud, calm grief is silent.
Berthold Auerbach
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What we call the freedom of the individual is not just the luxury of one intellectual to write what he likes to write but his being a voice which can speak for those who are silent.
Stephen Spender
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The summer night was starless and stirless, with distant spasms of silent lightning.
Vladimir Nabokov
