In love, we worry more about the meaning of silences than the meaning of words.
Expediency often silences justice.
It was one of those problematic occasions with long silences, sporadic coughs, and people saying isolated things like, "Well, isn't this nice.
There are all kinds of silences and each of them means a different thing
I think political correctness really does help us when it serves us but it doesn't help us when it silences us.
Don't look for meaning in the words. Listen to the silences.
I shall state silences more competently than ever a better man spangled the butterflies of vertigo.
Have little care that Life is brief, And less that Art is long. Success is in the silences Though Fame is in the song.
These short stories establish Sontag's originality. . . her unique vision, her success with experiments in the form. . . Sontag makes a wonderful stew of the past, the life caught in memory and imagination, serves it all up lavishly laced with silences, and provides us with a gourmand's series of short courses.
Her hearing was keener than his, and she heard silences he was unaware of.
It is the job of poetry to clean up our word-clogged reality by creating silences around things.
That is the problem with age and wisdom—it merely shows you how helpless you are. The wiser you become, the more you learn to keep your mouth shut, until eventually the grave silences you forever.
It began as research. I wrote of silences, of nights, I scribbled the indescribable. I tied down the vertigo.
When one writer tries to silence another, he silences every writer-and in the end he also silences himself.
There is not one but many silences, and they are an integral part of the strategies that underlie and permeate discourses.
No joy for which thy hungering heart has panted, No hope it cherishes through waiting years, But if thou dost deserve it, shall be granted For with each passionate wish the blessing nears. Tune up the fine, strong instrument of thy being To chord with thy dear hope, and do not tire. When both in key and rhythm are agreeing, Lo! thou shalt kiss the lips of thy desire. The thing thou cravest so waits in the distance, Wrapt in the silences, unseen and dumb: Essential to thy soul and thy existence-- Live worthy of it--call, and it shall come.
Some people are uncomfortable with silences. Not me. I’ve never cared much for call and response. Sometimes I will think of something to say and then I ask myself: is it worth it? And it just isn’t.
There are silences harder to take back than words.
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.
When you choose to write using yourself as the source of the story, you are choosing to confront all the silences in which your story has been protectively wrapped. Your job as a writer is to respectfully, determinedly, free the story from the silences and free yourself from both.