Silence Quotes - Page 14

Reading your sonnets?” asked Orphu. Mahnmut closed the book. “How’d you know? Have you taken up telepathy now that you’ve lost your eyes?” “Not yet,” rumbled the Ionian. Orphu’s great crab shell was lashed to the deck ten meters from where Mahnmut sat near the bow. “Some of your silences are more literary than others, is all.

The more time that passes without an answer and the longer we wander through the wilderness of silence and shadow, the more fearful we become that maybe God isn't all we have believed him to be. It's in those moments that Satan plants in us the temptation to 'throw away this confident trust in the Lord.' The enemy wants us to forget 'the great reward it brings you' (Hebrews 10:35).

Ultimately, our questions must emerge not from mental categories, but from deep within the heart. They must rise to the surface of our beings as we sit in silence, so that they are not just the old questions which we raise whenever we have nothing else to talk about or just for the sake of argument. They need to be the questions which make a difference in our lives.

Mind your strength! Let people know that you are strong and let them see how strong you are, and who or what makes you strong, but in doing so, be careful showing people the true source of your strength for not all people deserve to know that! You may never know what is behind the mind! Sometimes in life, the day you show people how wise you are, the very day you show them how unwise you are! Get understanding and walk in wisdom!

IT IS BY CHOICE AND NOT BY CHANCES THAT WE CHANGE OUR CIRCUMSTANCES.

Would my head were a head of lettuce. I drove the last car over the Sagamore Bridge before the state police closed it off. The Cape Cod Canal all atempest beneath. No cars coming, no cars going. The bridge cables flapping like rubber bands. You think in certain circumstances a few thousand feet of bridge isn’t a thousand miles? The hurricane wiped out Dennis. Horace thanked God for insurance. I saved our little girl. You want me to say, Hurrah! Hurrah! but I can’t, I won’t, because to save her once isn’t to save her, and still she thumps as if the world was something thumpable. As if it wasn’t silence on a fundamental level. Yap on, wife, yap on. Thump, daughter, thump. Louder, Orangutan, louder. I can’t hear you.

Talk, talk, talk: the utter and heartbreaking stupidity of words.

If a cone had dropped on velvet needles, if a star had lain a silver track across the sky, if the dead had turned in their graves - I swear, I would have heard it, that's how silent it all was.

How often do we talk just to fill up the quiet space? How often do we waste our breath talking about nonsense?

Silence is golden...but in times of tyranny it is blood red

Go back,go back to sleep.Yes, you are allowed.You who have no Love in your heart,you can go back to sleep.The power of Loveis exclusive to us,you can go back to sleep.I have been burntby the fire of Love.You who have no such yearning in your heart,go back to sleep.The path of Love,has seventy-two folds and countless facets.Your love and religionis all about deceit, control and hypocrisy,go back to sleep.I have torn to pieces my robe of speech,and have let go of the desire to converse.You who are not naked yet,you can go back to sleep.

Speech may be barren but it is ridiculous to suppose that silence is always brooding on a nestful of eggs.

The silence of a convent at night is the silence of the grave. Too far removed from the busy world without for external sounds to penetrate the thick walls, whilst within no slamming door, nor wandering foot, nor sacrilegious voice breaks in upon the stillness, the slightest noise strikes upon the ear with a fearful distinctness. ("The Monk's Story")

nothing is lifelesswhen the moon writes its screedon the silvern sand silence-From the poem:"The Universe In Blossom

There is something subversive about this garden of Serena's, a sense of buried things bursting upwards, wordlessly, into the light, as if to point, to say: Whatever is silenced will clamor to be heard, though silently.

I see you better in music, I hear you better in wind, I feel you more in a flooding moonlight, that understands nothing, but darkness and silence.

He sat and looked at her. “How is Mary Darling?”“Fast asleep after playing and having a bath,” she said. “The nursery is lovely.”“I’m glad you like it.”“Rose and Annie are obviously practiced nursemaids, and what is even better, they seem to like Mary, and she them.”He grunted. “It would take a hard heart to turn away from my Mary Darling.”A smile curved the corners of her lips. “You didn’t seem too enamored of her when you first met.”“She has a forceful personality, as do I. We just took a bit to get to know one another.

In my silence do I enhance my talents

There have been extensive human rights violations by American psychiatrists over the last 70 years. These doctors were pad by the American taxpayer through CIA and military contracts. It is past time for these abuses to stop, it is past time for a reckoning, and it is past time for individual doctors to be held accountable. The Manchurian Candidate Programs are of much more than "historical" interest. ARTICHOKE, BLUEBIRD, MKULTRA and MKSEARCH are precursors of mind control programs that are operational in the twenty first century. Human rights violations by psychiatrists must be ongoing in programs like COPPER GREEN, the interrogation program at Abu Ghraib prison in Iraq. Such programs must be carried out within CIA units like Task Force 121 (The Dallas Morning News, December 1, 2004, p. 1A). Information pointing to ongoing human rights violations by psychiatrists is available in publications like The New Yorker (see article by Seymour M. Hersh, May 24, 2004). Yes the indifference, silence, denial, and disinformation of organized medicine and psychiatry continue. One purpose of The CIA Doctors: Human Rights Violations By American Psychiatrists is to break that silence.

We fall back into silence. I look around XO Café and notice that chatter happens mostly at tables where the diners are young and hip. The older couples, the ones sporting wedding bands that wink with their silverware, eat without the pepper of conversation. Is it because they are so comfortable, they already know what the other is thinking? Or is it because after a certain point, there is simply nothing left to say?

We are starved for quiet, to hear the sound of sheer silence that is the presence of God himself.

More silence; children's silence, so desperately desired by adults yet eerie when it finally occurs.

Learning to let go is not giving up! It is simply passing the burden to a better fighter, so you can fight another day. (God)

The effort of explaining, even of expressing himself, had become, with the years, more and more terrifying to him. Whether from laziness or from inability to find the right words, he had developed almost a passion for silence.

An observer can’t tell if a person is silent and still because inner life has stalled or because inner life is transfixingly busy.

The people’s silence is a tyrant’s greatest advocate. The less captives talked, the less they knew; the less they knew, the more they feared; and the more they feared, the more easily others could manipulate them to their own ends, the more easily the captives could be controlled.

In silence you shall face self...and have respect.

One of the most powerful lessons silence teaches us is to ponder

Silence is often a measure of success.

Isabel had gone silent in a way that shouted the silence to me.

Nothing strengthens authority so much as silence.

Well, there would be no sound if we shout on the background.

She imagined herself drowning along the tides of Sumendu Lake, down own into the depths of solemn solitude, splashing into the serenity of forever silence.

We don't have to go back to my place, Angel. I can take you home, if that's what you want. Or, if you decide you want to sleep at my place, on opposite sides of my bedroom with a Do Not Cross line drawn down the middle, I'll do it. I won't like it, but I'll do it.

There is no real silence for the sensitive ears and there is no real tranquility for the sensitive hearts!

I just realized that sleep sometimes is the only precious wage for the hard working man.

Lying is done with words, and also with silence.

The eternal silence of these infinite spaces frightens me.

Move thy tongue,For silence is a sign of discontent.

I saw that she didn't want to answer that question and so I asked again: when mouths close it's because there's something important to be said.

But silence continued in the layers of the earth, and this density that I could feel at my shoulders continued harmonious, sustained, unaltered through eternity. I lay there pondering my situation, lost in the desert, and in danger, naked between sky and sand and stars, withdrawn by too much silence from the poles of my life.

We need a reason to speak but none to keep silent.

If we can only speak to slander our betters, let us hold our tongues.

the unexpected action of deep listening can create a space of transformation capable of shattering complacency and despair.

Listen to your heart in silence and peace, as through fear you only channel fear.

Today words curve around my vision,Stumbling from my parched coreTo soak again those strands of silence.

Sometimes silence is the only therapy you need.

We only realize what happiness is about, after it has slammed the door to our inattention; and killing silence has deafened the tunefulness of our life. ("Happy days are back again")

What do I have to do to convince you that I'm only using Dabria for one reason, one only reason: Destroy Hank, bit by bit if is necessary,and make him pay for all the things he has done to harm the girl I love?

If there must be a god in the house, must be,Saying things in the rooms and on the stair,Let him move as the sunlight moves on the floor,Or moonlight, silently, as Plato's ghostOr Aristotle's skeleton. Let him hang outHis stars on the wall. He must dwell quietly.

Darkness is a kind of visual silence, and monks love it.

I am not sure if we are numbed to the reality of rape, but here's the sad irony. While the word rape can add an edginess to your language, talking about actual rape is taboo. I didn't know this until one of my friends was raped. Then I knew this, because I didn't want to tell anyone. If she were mugged, I would have told everyone and raged.

I said nothing for a time, just ran my fingertips along the edge of the human-shaped emptiness that had been left inside me.

It would not do to tell other people, not just because they wouldn't believe but because they wouldn't care.

He looked at her, and she couldn't contradict him. Nor could she offer any false reassurance. Silence, at least, was honest.

I believe in the discipline of silence and could talk for hours about it.

Silence is the best language to speak in when you have lots of things to say.

Somtimes silence can be the loudest thing.

Just because I'm no jaw clacker doesn't mean there should be a ruction put up whenever I have sommat to say.

God is whispering in your heart, in the whole existence, just tune your ears.