Best 3011 quotes in «silence quotes» category

God speaks in the silence of the heart. Listening is the beginning of prayer.

God's silences are His answers. If we only take as answers those that are visible to our senses, we are in a very elementary condition of grace.

God speaks in the silence of the heart.

God will of necessity always be a hidden God. His loudest cry is silence. If he does not manifest himself to us, we will say that he hides himself. And if he manifests himself, we will accuse him of veiling himself. Ah! it is not easy for God to make himself known to us!

Go into seclusion and rest your mind on the silence.

Good as is discourse, silence is better and shames it.

Good as is discourse, silence is better, and shames it. The length of the discourse indicates the distance of thought betwixt the speaker and the hearer. If they were at a perfect understanding in any part, no words would be necessary thereon. If at one in all parts, no words would be suffered.

Gone before To that unknown and silent shore.

Good writing can be defined as having something to say and saying it well. When one has nothing to say, one should remain silent. Silence is always beautiful at such times.

Go up to the mountain, go up to the glen, where silence will touch you, and heartbreak will mend.

Go to where the silence is and say something.

Great is truth, but still greater, from a practical point of view, is silence about truth.

Great is truth, but still greater, from a practical point of view, is silence about truth. By simply not mentioning certain subjects... totalitarian propagandists have influenced opinion much more effectively than they could have by the most eloquent denunciations.

Great is Youth--equally great is Old Age--great are Day and Night. Great is Wealth--great is Poverty--great is Expression-great is Silence.

Great souls endure in silence.

Great souls suffer in silence.

Grief remains one of the few things that has the power to silence us.

Grief, as I read somewhere once, is a lazy Susan. One day it is heavy and underwater, and the next day it spins and stops at loud and rageful, and the next day at wounded keening, and the next day numbness, silence.

Grief remains one of the few things that has the power to silence us. It is a whisper in the world and a clamor within. More than sex, more than faith, even more than its usher death, grief is unspoken, publicly ignored except for those moments at the funeral that are over too quickly, or the conversations among the cognoscenti, those of us who recognize in one another a kindred chasm deep in the center of who we are.

GRINNING, DUCKING MY HEAD FOR BALANCE, I START TO SPIN WILDLY AS I CAN.  THAT IS MY FAVORITE DANCE, BECAUSE IT CONTAINS A SECRET.  THE FASTER I TWIRL, THE MORE I AM STILL  INSIDE.  MY DANCE IS ALL MOTION WITHOUT,  ALL SILENCE WITHIN.  AS MUCH AS I LOVE TO MAKE MUSIC, IT'S THE UNHEARD MUSIC THAT NEVER DIES.  AND SILENCE IS MY REAL DANCE, THOUGH IT NEVER MOVES.  IT STANDS ASIDE, MY CHOREOGRAPHER OF GRACE, AND BLESSES EACH FINGER AND TOE.

Guilt must not be allowed to fester in the silence of the soul, poisoning it from within. It needs to be confessed. Through confession we bring it into the light, we place it within Christ's purifying love. In confession, the Lord washes our soiled feet over and over again and prepares us for table fellowship with him.

Had I not been bound to silence I could have provided proof enough of a broken heart, even for you.

Happy is the man who knows or even the man who remembers those silent vigils where silence itself was the sign of the communion of souls!

Harold Brodie is a louse and a lothario who cheats at cards and has a different girl in his rumble seat every week. That coupe of his is pos-i-tute-ly a petting palace. And he’s a terrible kisser to boot.” Evie’s parents stared in stunned silence. “Or so I’ve heard.

Have you ever noticed how many silences there are Gilbert? The silence of the woods....of the shore....of the meadows....of the night....of the summer afternoon. All different because the undertones that thread them are different.

Healing happens between the notes. I had to allow the space and not be afraid, and to know that things happen in space. You have to let the space settle. If you let go, you transcend and experience the stillness, and that is the healing. One ingredient of health is rest. Activity comes from inactivity. The basis of sound is silence. Stillness is basic to health.

Having to talk destroys the symphony of silence.

He also keeps his silence when Bible passages become shredded to justify unwinding, and kids start to see the face of God in the fragments.

Heaven...a place where everything that is not music is silence.

Hearing is a form of touch. You feel it through your body, and sometimes it almost hits your face.

Heath [Ledger] would walk up to a horse and could like silence the horse. Just literally he'd be like, 'Shh. Shh.' And then he'd get on the horse. I'd be like, 'I'm going to get on you.' They'd be like, 'F - off!' I didn't really have that style.

He has become a worm. That is what I am telling you." "I don't suppose it would be possible," said Henry into the silence, "to, er, step on him?

He couldn’t say the words, had spent too long in Silence, but he’d learned other ways to speak. Taking the paperweight she’d knocked off her desk out of his pocket, he put it in her hands. “It’s fixed. As long as you don’t mind more than a few scars.

He'd kept this silence because his own secrets were darker, more hidden, and because he believed that his secrets had created hers.

He had somehow, with all his modesty, the rare faculty of controlling his superiors as well as his subordinates. He outfaced Stanton, captivated the President, and even compelled acquiescence or silence from that dread source of paralyzing power, the Congressional Committee on the Conduct of the War.

He issued orders to us: demigods who come to us for aid are no longer to be tolerated. We are to crush your little mortal faces.' There was an uncomfortable silence. 'That sounds...extreme,' Jason ventured.

He is nearest to the gods who knows how to be silent.

He knelt by the bed and bent over her, draining their last moment to its lees; and in the silence there passed between them the word which made all clear.

He had on bunny slippers. These had fangs. They all stared at them in silence for about a heartbeat, and then Shane said, "That is impressively wicked. Crazy, but wicked.

Hello Rush," she said, breaking the silence. The sound of her voice almost sent me to my knees. God, I'd missed her voice. "Blaire," I managed to say, terrified that I'd scare her away just by speaking.

Help me always to speak the truth quietly, to listen with an open mind when others speak, and to remember the peace that may be found in silence.

He never spoke of that night again, not to your mother, not to anyone else. He was ashamed for her, for Mickey, for himself. In the hospital, he stopped speaking altogether. Silence was his escape, but silence is rarely a refuge. His thoughts still haunted him.' ~pg 139

He seemed a part of the mute melancholy landscape, an incarnation of it's frozen woe, with all that was warm and sentient in him fast bound below the surface; but there was nothing nothing unfriendly in his silence. I simply felt that he lived in a depth of moral isolation too remote for casual access, and I had the sense that his loneliness was not merely the result of his personal plight, tragic as I guessed that to be, but had in it, as Harmon Gow had hinted, the profound accumulated cold of many Starkfield winters.

here was a silence between them for a moment, and she wondered if all women, when in love, were torn between two impulses, a longing to throw modesty and reserve to the winds and confess everything, and an equal determination to conceal the love forever, to be cool, aloof, utterly detached, to die rather than admit a thing so personal, so intimate.

her spirits wanted the solitude and silence which only numbers could give.

He pulls me over the railing and against his chest, gathering me into his arms, easing an arm under my knees. I press my face into his shoulder, and there is a sudden, hollow silence.

Her silence was the blank space between the words.

Her silent course advance With inoffensive pace, that spinning sleeps On her soft axle.

Her silence was worth more to her than a thousand words.In that silence,she had peace and clarity.Except during the night,when her own jumbled thoughts would keep her awake.

He says a million things without saying a word. I have never heard a more eloquent silence.