Best 3011 quotes in «silence quotes» category

All my days have I grown up among the Sages and I have found naught better for a man than silence.

All of our great traditions, religious, contemplative and artistic, say that you must a learn how to be alone - and have a relationship with silence. It is difficult, but it can start with just the tiniest quiet moment.

All of us have special ones who have loved us into being. Would you just take, along with me, ten seconds to think of the people who have helped you become who you are....Ten seconds of silence.

All our silences in the face of racist assault are acts of complicity.

All persons who are enthusiastic that they should transcend the other animals ought to strive with the utmost effort not to pass through a life of silence, like cattle, which nature has fashioned to be prone and obedient to their stomachs.

All silencing of discussion is an assumption of infallibility.

All that is necessary to awaken to yourself as the radiant emptiness of spirit is to stop seeking something more or better or different, and to turn your attention inward to the awake silence that you are.

All the streams carry the wisdom of the forest to the lake, and over there, silence replaces the noise!

All this talk and turmoil and noise and movement and desire is outside of the veil; within the veil is silence and calm and rest.

All those layers of silence upon silence.

A lot of my work is process-oriented. I delve into my work and sit alone in silence and work with the material and process it, like talking to yourself.

A man of virtue, judgment, and prudence speaks not until there is silence.

A man seeking publicity works with the noise of voice; A man working for humanity seeks the silence of rejoice in life.

America is a noisy culture, unlike, say, Finland, which values silence. Individualism, dominant in the U.S. and Germany, promotes the direct, fast-paced style of communication associated with extraversion. Collectivistic societies, such as those in East Asia, value privacy and restraint, qualities more characteristic of introverts.

A man speaks of what he knows, a woman of what pleases her: the one requires knowledge, the other taste.

Am I a harp that the hand of the mighty may touch me, or a flute that his breath may pass through me? A seeker of silences am I, and what treasure have I found in silences that I may dispense with confidence?

Among all nations there should be vast temples raised where people might worship in silence and listen to it, for it is the voice of God

Among friends one has the privilege of saying nothing; the civility consists in the assumption that one's silence will be civilly understood. I can imagine a small gathering of friends who say nothing all evening: they recoil from saying anything that the others don't want to hear; and their silence would be the subtlest courtesy.

A moment of silence, please, for the lost art of shutting up.

Among my most prized possessions are words that I have never spoken.

Among the most compelling truths in some of the early photographs is their implication of silence.

A musical theme once exhausted, finds its due refuge and repose in silence.

Amy, listen to me. What I do. The choices I make. They're mine. Only mine. The consequences of those decisions—mine. "Mine," he repeated when she sighed heavily. "No one else's." Silence. Only the warm wetness of her tears dampening his shirt. It broke his heart.

And all that we built, and all that we breathed And all that we spilled or pulled up like weeds Is piled up in back and it burns irrevocably And we spoke up in turns 'til the silence crept over me.

And before my Soul took me to task I was hard of hearing; I heard only tumult and uproar. But now I am all ears listening to the silence and its choirs singing the hymns of time, intoning the praises of the firmament, revealing the secrets of the invisible.

And in the afternoon they entered a land - but such a land! A land hung in mourning, darkened by gigantic cypresses, submerged; a land of reptiles, silence, shadow, decay.

And it rained a fever. And it rained a silence. And it rained a sacrifice. And it rained a miracle. And it rained sorceries and saturnine eyes of the totem.

And Silence of the Lambs is a really smart book.

And silence, like a poultice, comes To heal the blows of sound.

and I wondered if, in the end, this is how all disputes are settled, with a shared silence as things become equal. You take something from me, I take something from you. We all want balance, one way or another.

And then, in that regal silence, finally - I began to meditate on (and with) God.

and silence is the golden mountain

And silence, like darkness, can be kind; it, too, is a language.

And they write innumerable books; being too vain and distracted for silence: seeking every one after his own elevation, and dodging his emptiness.

and the two of them loved each other for a long time in silence without making love again.

And then more quiet, silence so deep it almost drowned out the roar of the night music that pounded away in my secret self.

And the peace which I always found in the silence and emptiness of the moors filled me utterly

... and through it all and afterwards they would be together, making their own world where nothing mattered but the things they could give to one another, the loveliness, the silence, and the peace.

And with listening, too, it seems to me, it is not the ear that hears, it is not the physical organ that performs the act of inner receptivity. It is the total person who hears. Sometimes the skin seems to be the best listener, as it prickles and thrills, say to a sound or a silence; or the fantasy, the imagination: how it bursts into inner pictures as it listens and then responds by pressing its language, its forms, into the listening clay. To be open to what we hear, to be open in what we say. .

And what if we’d been utterly open? Made jokes about the first wife? What if we’d been that kind of family? Well, I would have been different, surely. But not because I knew the secret. For it wasn’t the secret—the secret that wasn’t a secret anyway—that led to the austerity in our lives. It was the austerity that led to the secret. And what I had been marked by, probably most of all, was the austerity. It had made secrets in my life too. Or silences, anyway, that became secrets. That became lies.

And yet the world we live in-its divisions and conflicts, its widening gap between rich and poor, its seemingly inexplicable outbursts of violence-is shaped far less by what we celebrate and mythologize than by the painful events we try to forget. Leopold's Congo is but one of those silences of history.

A need to tell and hear stories is essential to the species Homo sapiens-second in necessity apparently after nourishment and before love and shelter. Millions survive without love or home, almost none in silence; the opposite of silence leads quickly to narrative, and the sound of story is the dominant sound of our lives, from the small accounts of our day's events to the vast incommunicable constructs of psychopaths.

Anger is the noise of the soul; the unseen irritant of the heart; the relentless invader of silence.

Anybody else think that was weird?” Shane asked as they got into the car. Eve sent him an exasperated glance; the three of them were, of course, in the backseat. Amelie had the front, with Michael. “Ya think? In general, or in particular?” “Weird that we got through the entire thing, and I didn’t have to hit anybody.” There was a moment of silence. Michael said, as he started the car, “You’re right, Shane. That is strange.

An Irishman needs three things : silence, cunnning, and exile.

Anthony Hopkins is the kindest, sweetest most creative person I've met. He did something really insane between takes of the Westworld, out of nowhere. He started doing the lines from Silence of the Lambs, and I was like 'Oh my god, is this happening right now?' It was surreal. His voice changed, his demeanor changed, everything changed. He's a chameleon, in a matter of seconds he becomes something else.

An now the silences come in a single lifetime, in a single year... when species die, leaving a silent space in the world song that can never be filled.

Answer them critics with silence and indifference. It works better, I assure you, than anger and argument. . . .

Any historical narrative is a bundle of silences.

A painter's got a canvas. The writer's got reams of empty paper. A musician has silence.