When we are bursting with some wordless experience, Art is our voice, the song of the heart.
The highest levels of consciousness are wordless.
A poem should be wordless As the flight of birds.
. . . wordless conditioning is crude and wholesale; cannot bring home the finer distinctions, cannot inculcate the more complex courses of behavior. For that there must be words, but words without reason. . . Not so much like drops of water, though water, it is true, can wear holes in the hardest granite; rather, drops of liquid sealing-wax, drops that adhere, encrust, incorporate themselves with what they fall on, till finally the rock is all one scarlet blob.
And in that moment, the wordless thing passed between us, the thing that wasn't quite love but was so close I could believe in it sometimes.
In the depth of my soul there is a wordless song.
Dirk was, for one of the few times in a life of exuberantly prolific loquacity, wordless.
For a long time I believed the opposite of passion was death. I was wrong. Passion and death are implicit, one in the other. Past the border of a fiery life lies the netherworld. I can trace this road, which took me through places so hot the very air burned the lungs. I did not turn back. I pressed on, and eventually passed over the border, beyond which lies a place that is wordless and cold, so cold that it, like mercury, burns a freezing blue flame.
Love is a sacred mystery. To those who love, it remains forever wordless; But to those who do not love, it may be but a heartless jest.
Hear from the heart wordless mysteries.
All of the arts are kin - music and sculpture and dance, those are wordless art forms. But poetry is defined by language. Of course, each art is distinct, and has its own character - not just in terms of media, but in terms of what seems to lie at the heart of it.
He was created of a mother whom He created. He was carried by hands that He formed. He cried in the manger in wordless infancy. He, the Word, without whom all human eloquence is mute.
The deepest of level of communication is not communication, but communion. It is wordless. . . beyond speech. . . beyond concept.
If we look at the world around us, we see that we are conditioned to not listen deeply. Because isn't that what silence is? It's a listening, a deep wordless listening.
It was so good to be held. If only their relationship could be distilled into simple, wordless gestures of comfort. Why had humans ever learned to talk?
And what word is knowledge but a shadow of wordless knowledge?
It is from that region of silence, that wordless knowing comes.
ARE YOU CRAZY?" I ASKED. He gave me the same wordless look he always did when I asked that question.
Sometimes the heart is so heavy that we turn away from it and forget that its throbbing is the wisest message of life, a wordless message that says, "Live, be, move, rejoice -- you are alive!" Without the heart's wise rhythm, we could not exist.
Jazz vision is a wordless conversation between musical notes and visual expressions.
