Best 3011 quotes in «silence quotes» category

It is a thing that knows no limit, and before it all men are equal; and the silence of king or slave, in presence of death, or grief, or love, reveals the same features, hides beneath its impenetrable mantle the self-same treasure. For this is the essential silence of our soul, our most inviolable sanctuary, and its secret can never be lost;

It is better to remain silence than to speak rudely when being provoked.

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

It is difficult to receive and accept oneness because human speculation doesn’t catch it. But if you practice with full devotion, finally you will come to the final goal—silence. When you touch the core of existence and see the fundamental truth, there is nothing to say; you are just present in silence. This silence really makes your life alive. Then, even though you don’t say anything, your silence has lots of words, demonstrating the truth in a physical and mental way, which can be seen by others. This is Buddha’s teaching appearing through the form of a person who sees into the pure and clear depth of human existence.

It is finally about the quality of the conversations and silences we share, isn't it? We become strangers when we have nothing to say to each other. We die to each other, when the conversations in us die. Sometimes, a little every day, until one day we go completely silent and we are simply left looking at a stranger whose habits we know

It is foolish to be lavish in words and niggardly in truth.

It is generally found in health, safety, fraud, and harassment scandals that many people were aware of the abuses but stayed silent and did nothing.

It is hard to travel in this fallen world if you lose the power of speech every time evil meets you on the path.

It is in deep solitude and silence that I find the sensuality with which I can truly love.

It is in the thick of a calamity that one gets hardened to the truth, in other words to silence.

It is not everyone you will take with you on a hill walk, but to have one like-minded, who will not interfere with your exercise of free will and choice in thought and action, is a joy indeed. It is better that two people should so understand each other that the choice of each day may be exercised without offence, and even without too much talking

It is not many things that modern psychology agress upon, but all the different approaches of psychology agrees on one thing: that people in groups become more stupid. Individually people are more intelligent, because they have to take their own responsibility, but in a group they do not have to take the same responsibility. The two basic power strategies to try to manipulate and gain control over another person are: silencing and attacking. Silencing means to not listen to, to exclude or ignore and not respect a person. Attack can both mean to attack a person directly or to try to discredit a person through lies, to ridicule a person or by spreading malicious rumours. All organizations are more or less dysfunctional. In a dysfunctional group, the members of the group play three different roles: agressor, denier and victim. The agressor is the role that attack and ridicule people, the denier never knows what is going on, there is “no body at home”, and the victim is the resultat of these two roles. It is always easier to follow a group without awareness, than to follow your own heart, to trust your own intelligence, love, truth, silence and creativity.

It is often the moments of silence that strengthen the friendship between two people. When friendship is bound by companionship… intertwined with love, secured by mutual understanding…

It is silent, an anagram for listen. That is what I do. Listen while she remains silent.

It is the disaster of our entire existence that we live thus away from our soul, and stand in such dread of its slightest movement. Did we but allow it to smile frankly in its silence and its radiance, we should be already living an eternal life. We have only to think for an instant how much it succeeds in accomplishing during those rare moments when we knock off its chains – for it is our custom to enchain it as though it were distraught – what it does in love, for instance, for there we do permit it at times to approach the lattices of external life.

It is those that are insulted by injustice that will refuse to be silenced.

It needs strength to stay silent, but it needs courage to confide in somebody.

I took me to the Banks of the River, and tarried there awhile, as the lowering Sun made one with the Water, giving generously of Itself & its Diverse Colors, in a Splay of Magnificence that preceded a most wonderful Silence.

I told myself being a Perez meant more than being Cuban, that my responsibility to my family, to do what was expected, to be the woman my parents wanted me to be meant more than fighting for what I believed in, for speaking out against Batista's tyranny. And the whole time we were pretending our way of life was fine, the "paradise" we'd created was really a fragile deal with a mercurial devil, and the ground beneath us shifted and cracked, destroying the world as we knew it. Fidel has shown us the cost of our silence. The danger of waiting too long to speak, of another's voice being louder than ours because we were too busy living in the bubbles we'd created to realize the rest of Cuba had changed and left us behind.

I try to hide you With the silence But, my eyes Say the unsaid words and Speak in the loudest volume. In your hesitation, I found my answers. In your silence, I found my answers. Sometimes, I laugh at myself So much that The tears roll down and Reach to my cracked lips. I try to hide you With the silence But, my eyes Say the unsaid words and Speak in the loudest volume.

It's all about inner silence! Everything else would just take you there!

It’s amazing how few words a person can get by with.

It's been said that actions speak louder than words. Sometimes, it's what you don't say or do, that sends the loudest message.

It’s an embarrassing fact that we are more afraid of embarrassment than a host of other discomforts, but it isn’t less true for all that. How often have you refrained from voicing hope or indignation for fear of being dismissed as childish? Oddly enough, that fear is adolescent, born of a time when few things feel worse than being regarded as a less grown-up than your peers.

It's better to shut up and give the impression that you're stupid than to say something and erase all doubt.

It's far too easy to tote around a pocketbook of virtues when people are around but the truth always claws its way out in silence. This business of quiet and aloneness is working me through and through.

It's okay to be honest about not knowing rather than spreading falsehood. While it is often said that honesty is the best policy, silence is the second best policy.

It's funny how that works. Sometimes not speaking says more than all the words in the world. Sometimes my silence is saying, I don't know how to speak to you. I don't know what you're thinking. Talk to me. Tell me everything you've ever said. All the words. Starting from your very first one.

It took him years to learn the value of silence, the power of carefully chosen words.

It’s the silence that scares me. It’s the blank page on which I can write my own fears.

It was almost as if he was giving her his silence, so that all of her anger had a place to go.

It was a good ten minutes before I realized Roman and I had been sitting in silence. I stole a look at him out of the corner of my eye, but he seemed unbothered by quiet as I was. For the first time in a long while, I didn't feel like I had to say anything. There was no one to comfort tor convince. There was no one to charm or encourage. I disappeared into myself as I drove on, trying to find my center. I could breathe. Be still. What I hadn't expected was how much Roman seemed to need it, too. Some people feared silence. They did anything to fill it, talking about things that didn't matter, asking questions just to hear some kind of response. it seemed to me that a lot of people saw it as a kind of failure. Evidence that they weren't interesting enough, or that a bond wasn't strong enough. Or maybe they were just nervous about what it would reveal about themselves.

It was either the chaos of a crowd of thoughts or the silence of solitude... nothing in between..

It was the way she looked at me the whole time. That look said more than she ever could and, in turn, scared me more than her words alone ever could.

It was quiet, deeply so, but it was the kind of quiet that lived and moved and changed, filled to the brim with crickets and wings and the sounds of late summer.

It was hard to listen to her all the time without getting to say anything back

It wasn't the aloneness that Liz minded. It was the silence. It echoed.

it was too loud for hope it was too silent for victory.

It will cost me a lot to send you with Scott wearing that dress but, just so you know: if you come with that dress even slightly wrinkled, I will trace Scott, and when I find him, it's not gonna be pretty.

It would've been the perfect time to tell her. To tell anyone. To say, 'I'm drowning and I need someone, anyone, to be my life raft.' To say, 'I thought it had gone, and it hasn't and I'm so scared by what that means.' To say, 'I just want to be normal, why won't my head let me be normal?

I used to think that communication with a stupid fool would be useful for him. But now I have changed my mind. Nothing would be better for him than to keep his stony silence.

I've always thought it would be nice to have the house to myself for a while. This place gets so loud all theme and there are always so many people in it. But I guess I'm grateful for all the noise and chaos. I don't know if I want to be alone in the quiet with my thoughts these days.

I've missed you,Angel. I dod not spent a day without missing you in my life. I became obsessed to the point I thought Hank had backed off of his oath and had killed you. I saw your ghost in everything. I couldn't scape from you and i din't want to. You tortured me, but it was better than losing you.

I wanted to listen to him, but I did not want to answer now. That strange responsibility we feel towards others when they speak, to offer them the solace of any answer. Poor humans! And anyway he had not asked a question. He was merely floating there in the room, insubstantial, a living man in the midst of life, dying imperceptibly on his feet, like all of us.

I walked around the sad honkytonks of Curtis Street; young kids in jeans and red shirts; peanut shells, movie marquees, shooting parlours. Beyond the glittering street was darkness, and beyond the darkness the West. I had to go.

I wanted to scream as I stood there, my toes hanging over the edge of the dock. I wanted to let a gut-wrenching howl rip from my disfigured throat toward those clouded skies. I wanted to say every swear word my mother had ever taught me not to say. I would have settled for a cut-off whimper, just as long as some kind of sound came from my lips.

I want to create a place for us, like a room. And I want to store everything that I come across as a memory of us, in there. Years after, someday I will take you there in the middle of the night. I want to see you at that moment. I want to watch you drowning in the memories helplessly, losing the bounds of time, getting weaker every second. And then I want to hold you in these arms in those moments of never-ending the silence. Where only our eyes speak, while we look at each other, like the dreams that we never want to stop seeing.

I want to write more but I cannot. I am a little weary and the silence in my soul is black. I wish I could rest my head on your shoulder.

I want to say something comforting, but I know that this is one of the moments when words would be like an appendix—superfluous or harmful.

I was a diligent student with integrity, so I didn't talk to anyone in class and passed the time in silence.