Best 3011 quotes in «silence quotes» category

The wind chimes for a farewell,the sand scatters the mind,yet silence,why still undefeated?

The world is a noisy place. Everybody wants to say something. We are forever surrounded by people’s opinions on how to make things work. Everyone wants to give us a piece of themselves through speeches and actions. Everything around us wants our attention. It never stops. Sometimes we get lost in the maze of all the noise we are surrounded by. We forget one thing: Silence! You can only learn when you are silent.

The world is a cancer eating itself away... I am think that when the great silence descends upon all and everywhere music will at last triumph. When into the womb of time everything is again withdrawn chaos will be restored and chaos is the score upon which reality is written.

The world is a wide place where we stumble like children learning to walk. The world is a bright mosaic where we learn like children to see, where our little blurry eyes strive greedily to take in as much light and love and colour and detail as they can. The world is a coaxing whisper when the wind lips the trees, when the sea licks the shore, when animals burrow into earth and people look up at the sympathetic stars. The world is an admonishing roar when gales chase rainclouds over the plains and whip up ocean waves, when people crowd into cities or intrude into dazzling jungles. What right have we to carry our desperate mouths up mountains or into deserts? Do we want to taste rock and sand or do we expect to make impossible poems from space and silence? The vastness at least reminds us how tiny we are, and how much we don't yet understand. We are mere babes in the universe, all brothers and sisters in the nursery together. We had better learn to play nicely before we're allowed out..... And we want to go out, don't we? ..... Into the distant humming welcoming darkness.

The world is never quiet, even its silence eternally resounds with the same notes, in vibrations that escape our ears.

They had been the reason for the receding love between her and her husband. She claimed a substitution for her sacrifices, an amendment of her situation.

They heard a lullaby every time a part of her died in Silence.

They say the silence is the language of God, but so is music. This is why we dance, we become loud in our silence.

They sensed that nothing needed to be said. In silence, minds understand each other.

Things always happen as they should and when they should. Our intuition provides us with guidance on our true purpose. These messages come from the heart. We can only hear them when we're silent not through a cluttered mind.

They will want answers. Then they'll want silence.

Thinking belongs to duality. Love belongs to the Oneness. There is no thought without judgment, there is no Unconditional Love without the silence of the mind.

This city by the fearsome river Was my crib blessed and dear And a solemn wedding bed Which the garlands for the head Your young cherubs held above - A city loved with bitter love. The subject of my prayers Were you, moody, calm, and austere. There first the groom came to me Having shown me the pathway holy, And that sad muse of mine Led me like one blind. * II * December 9, 1913 The darkest days of the year Must become the most clear. I can't find words to compare - Your lips are so tender and dear. Only to raise your eyes do not dare, Keeping the life of me. They're lighter than vials premier, And deadlier for me. I understand now, that we need no words, The snowed branches are light, and more, The birdcatcher, to catch birds, Has laid nets on the rivershore.

This isn't your fight, Patch," I said quietly. His eyes burned with an intensity I'd never seen before. "You're mine, Angel, and don't you forget it. Your fights are my fights. What if something had happened today? It was bad enough when I thought your ghost was haunting me; I don't think I could handle the real thing.

This is thy hour O Soul, thy free flight into the wordless, Away from books, away from art, the day erased, the lesson done, Thee fully forth emerging, silent, gazing, pondering the themes thou lovest best. Night, sleep, and the stars.

This is why the deepest form of pain comes out as silence.

This may be the real reason many of us fear silence in church—because anyone sitting near us may hear the hissing, rumbling, wheezing sounds of a living human being, which do not match up with the attractive countenances that we work so hard to present to one another.

This was once Mazama, I kept reminding myself. This was once a mountain that stood nearly 12,000 feet tall and then had its heart removed. This was once a wasteland of lava and pumice and ash. This was once an empty bowl that took hundreds of years to fill. But hard as I tried, I couldn't see them in my mind's eye. Not the mountain or the wasteland or the empty bowl. They simply were not there anymore. There was only the stillness and the silence of that water: what a mountain and a wasteland and an empty bowl turned into after the healing process.

Those who have witnessed executions say there is no sound worse than the weeping of mother watching her son being put to death. They're wrong. There is one sound that is worse. There is silence.

Those who nurse secrets, nurse a chaotic world of amplified silence.

Those who have a listening heart can hear the song of silence.

Thought for the day: we have far too many of them. And we prize them too highly; more so than we do the power of silence, mindfulness and pure kindness.

Those with unearned privileges often spin things as 'political correctness' to further silence those they wish to oppress.

Through silence you will hear the voice of three things: Your own inner voice, the voice of others and the voice of the universe!

Thre is strength," he said slowly, "in knowing when to speak, and when to listen." His hands stayed on his chest, motionless. "And when to say nothing at all.

Thy silence, then that voices thee.

Thus his belief was that in a service where feeling could be restrained it ought to be restrained. The power of God was more likely to be known in a solemn stillness than amid noise and excitement. Silence and an expectant seriousness, born of a realisation of the nearness of God, were striking characteristics of the services at Sandfields.

Tiek uzskatīts, ka pēc apkaušanas jāvalda kapa klusumam, un valda jau arī, tikai putni klaigā.

To be wise means to know when to stay silent.

To be heard today you need to be loud since silence is now imitation gold.

Tisina je moj maternji jezik.

To break the silence the old man said the first thing that came to his mind: "Loneliness is a type of violence.

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

To feel free, create a fog around yourself! And how can you do this? Be silent! When you are silent, people will not notice you much! You will be invisible, you will be inside the fog!

To feeling no shame in fear, no doubt in survival, and no silence in anger.

To silence the love, it takes a deaf. (Pour taire l'amour, - Il faut un sourd)

To heal our world we must be silent; willing to listen to the roars of the wounded. We must teach eachother how to feel, only than can an entire nation grow in peace, as the war within will slowly diminish.

To the imaginative, it is always something of an adventure to walk down a pleached alley. You enter boldly enough, but soon you find yourself wishing you had stayed outside — it is not air that you are breathing, but silence, the almost palpable silence of trees. And is the only exit that small round hole in the distance? Why, you will never be able to squeeze through that! You must turn back ... too late! The spacious portal by which you entered has in its turn shrunk to a small round hole.

To think is to have doubt....yet even thinking will bring you to "no thought"....eventually.

To write poetry after Auschwitz is barbaric.

To you, it is much easier to not say a word. To me, I choke on my words if I do not say them. What truly hurts me is that you know that your silence infects a storm in my mind yet you choose it oh so easily.

Truth cannot be conveyed through words. Truth can only be known through silence. When knowing truth, it becomes a responsibility to share it. Through sharing truth, our truth will become deeper. If people are spiritually ripe to listen to truth, it is good. If people are not ripe to listen to truth, it is also good. If people are ready to understand truth, it is good. If they are not ready to understand truth, it is also good. If people are reday to understand silence, it is good. If people are not ready to understand silence, it is also good.

Truth for anyone is a very complex thing. For a writer, what you leave out says as much as those things you include. What lies beyond the margin of the text? The photographer frames the shot; writers frame their world. Mrs Winterson objected to what I had put in, but it seemed to me that what I had left out was the story’s silent twin. There are so many things that we can’t say, because they are too painful. We hope that the things we can say will soothe the rest, or appease it in some way. Stories are compensatory. The world is unfair, unjust, unknowable, out of control. When we tell a story we exercise control, but in such a way as to leave a gap, an opening. It is a version, but never the final one. And perhaps we hope that the silences will be heard by someone else, and the story can continue, can be retold. When we write we offer the silence as much as the story. Words are the part of silence that can be spoken. Mrs Winterson would have preferred it if I had been silent. Do you remember the story of Philomel who is raped and then has her tongue ripped out by the rapist so that she can never tell? I believe in fiction and the power of stories because that way we speak in tongues. We are not silenced. All of us, when in deep trauma, find we hesitate, we stammer; there are long pauses in our speech. The thing is stuck. We get our language back through the language of others. We can turn to the poem. We can open the book. Somebody has been there for us and deep-dived the words. I needed words because unhappy families are conspiracies of silence. The one who breaks the silence is never forgiven. He or she has to learn to forgive him or herself.

Truth is the offspring of silence and meditation. I keep the subject constantly before me and wait 'til the first dawnings open slowly, by little and little, into a full and clear light.

Try to relax. Sometimes the best offense is a good defense.

—Tú hablas sin palabras. Todos estamos siempre hablando sin palabras. —¿Y para qué valen las palabras, entonces? —No valen para mucho, casi nunca. La mayor parte de las veces, únicamente para ocultar aquello que realmente quieres decir, o algo que quieres saber.

Tut, tut! I have often admonished my pupils to count ten before speaking. Were I you, Mr. Philander, I should count at least a thousand, and then maintain a discreet silence.

Two friends raised their heads up to the sky on a dark evening. -Look at the stars. --Let us make a wish. They each took a moment of silence. -What did you wish for? --For you to have peace with your wish.

Usually when I enter a bookstore, I feel immediately calm. Bookstores are, for me, what churches are for other people. My breath gets slower and deeper as I peruse the shelves. I believe that books contain messages I am meant to receive. I’m not normally superstitious, but I’ve even had books fall from shelves and land at my feet. Books are my missives from the universe.

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.