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Quote by Tiziano Terzani

“Quando hai un problema fermati, fermati, fermati. Ascoltalo e cerca di trovare la risposta dentro di te. Perchè c'è. Dentro di te c'è qualcosa che ti tiene insieme, che ti aiuta, c'è una vocina. Ascoltala.”

Quote by Tiziano Terzani

Work

La fine è il mio inizio

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Author

Tiziano Terzani
Tiziano Terzani

Tiziano Terzani was an Italian journalist renowned for his extensive coverage of China. Born on September 14, 1938, in Florence, Italy, he spent over three decades in China, reporting for various Italian media outlets. Terzani's work provided valuable insights into China's political, social, and cultural landscape, earning him a reputation as a leading expert on the country. more

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“You can listen to silence, Reuven. I've begun to realize that you can listen to silence and learn from it. It has a quality and a dimension all its own. It talks to me sometimes. I feel myself alive in it. It talks. And I can hear it. ... You have to want to listen to it, and then you can hear it. It has a strange, beautiful texture. It doesn't always talk. Sometimes - sometimes it cries, and you can hear the pain of the world in it. It hurts to listen to it then. But you have to.”

“A single word can brighten the face of one who knows the value of words. Ripened in silence, a single word acquires a great energy for work. War is cut short by a word, and a word heals the wounds, and there’s a word that changes poison into butter and honey. Let a word mature inside yourself. Withhold the unripened thought. Come and understand the kind of word that reduces money and riches to dust. Know when to speak a word and when not to speak at all. A single word turns the universe of hell into eight paradises. Follow the Way. Don’t be fooled by what you already know. Be watchful. Reflect before you speak. A foolish mouth can brand your soul. Yunus, say one last thing about the power of words – Only the word “I” divides me from God.”

“I dined with Legrandin on the terrace of his house by moonlight. "There is a charming quality, is there not," he said to me, "in this silence; for hearts that are wounded, as mine is, a novelist whom you will read in time to come asserts that there is no remedy but silence and shadow. And you see this, my boy, there comes in all our lives a time, towards which you still have far to go, when the weary eyes can endure but one kind of light, the light which a fine evening like this prepares for us in the stillroom for darkness, when the ears can listen to no music save what the moonlight breathes through the flute of silence.”