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Quiet Quotes

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Quiet Quotes

“The appearance presented by the streets of London an hour before sunrise, on a summer's morning, is most striking even to the few whose unfortunate pursuits of pleasure, or scarcely less unfortunate pursuits of business, cause them to be well acquainted with the scene. There is an air of cold, solitary desolation about the noiseless streets which we are accustomed to see thronged at other times by a busy, eager crowd, and over the quiet, closely-shut buildings, which throughout the day are swarming with life and bustle, that is very impressive.”

WellsCausesHoursPleasureMorningAirStreetsBuildingColdSceneQuietSummerBusyCrowdsAppearanceLondonPursuitSolitaryUnfortunateSunriseAccustomedImpressiveDesolationBustleVery ImpressiveBefore Sunrise
Book:Sketches by Boz: Pseud. Illustrative of Every-day Life and Every-day People
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“Children with heaven in their eyes and an air of mystery about them, meditative and quiet, friends of God, friends of all, loved and loving and asking very little from the outer world, because they have more than enough within. They are classed as the dreamers, but they are really seers. They do not ask much and they do not need much beyond a reverent guardianship and to be let alone and allowed to grow; they will find this way for they are 'taught of God.”

WorldWayNeedsChildrenLittlesEnoughEyeAsksHeavenGrowsAirMysteryTaughtQuietAskingDreamerOuter WorldsSeersGuardianship
Book:The Education of Catholic Girls
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“One of the saddest sights of the slums is to see the thrifty wife of the working man, with her rosy brood of children, used to country air and sunshine, used to space, privacy, good surroundings, cleanliness, quiet, shut up amid the noise and dirt and confusion, in the gloom of the slum.”

MenChildrenCountryUsedSpaceWifeAirQuietSightNoiseConfusionPrivacySunshineDirtShut UpSurroundingsGloomCleanlinessSaddestCity LifeSlumsRosyWorking ManThriftyRural Life
Book:Beauty for Ashes, by Albion Fellows Bacon; with Numerous Illustrations
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“"It is light that reveals, light that obscures, light that communicates. It is light I "listen" to. The light late in the day has a distinct quality, as it fades toward the darkness of evening. After sunset there is a gentle leaving of the light, the air begins to still, and a quiet descends. I see magic in the quiet light of dusk. I feel quiet, yet intense energy in the natural elements of our habitat. A sense of magic prevails. A sense of mystery. It is a time for contemplation, for listening - a time for making photographs. "”

FeelsStillsLightEnergyNaturalQualityDarknessMagicAirMysteryListeningQuietElementsLatePhotographyLeavingPhotographerPhotographCommunicateIntenseEveningGentleContemplationSunsetFadesDuskHabitatNatural Elements
Author:John Sexton
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“What helped me get the part was that I turned it down. When I read the script, Venus was just a black guy who came in wearing a big coat and a hat and making jive talk. I'd been up for so many of those! I'd had enough of caricatures, what white writers conceive blacks to be. I told the producer I wasn't interested in doing anything like that for three or four years. He said that it was just a pilot, that Venus would be given a human dimension and would be quiet off-the-air. I wanted that input. I thought that side was as important as the comic side. For 'WKRP,' too much of either would be bad.”

YearsHumansSaidImportantEnoughBigsWould BeWantedGuyThreeGivenSidesBlackWhiteToo MuchFourAirQuietScriptsProducersComicDimensionsHatsFour YearsPilotsCoatsHad EnoughInputVenusCaricaturesBlack Guys
Author:Tim Reid
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“I have never seen the sea quiet round Treasure Island. The sun might blaze overhead, the air be without a breath, the surface smooth and blue, but still these great rollers would be running along all the external coast, thundering and thundering by day and night; and I scarce believe there is one spot in the island where a man would be out of earshot of their noise.”

MenBelieveStillsMightWould BeRunningNightSunAirSeaQuietBreathsBlueRoundsSurfaceTreasureNoiseSpotsIslandsSmoothCoastDay And NightScarceOverheadTreasure Island
Book:Collected Adventure Tales: Treasure Island, Kidnapped, Catriona, The Wrecker, The Ebbe-Tide, St Ives, Island Nights' Entertainments, The Adventure of the Hansom Cab and more (Illustrated Edition): The Black Arrow: A Tale of the Two Roses, The Adventure of Prince Florizel and a Detective, The Misadventures of John Nicholson, Adventures of David Balfour (Novels and short stories )
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“On the outside, Oscar simply looked tired, no taller, no fatter, only the skin under his eyes, pouched from years of quiet desperation, had changed. Inside, he was in a world of hurt. He saw black flashes before his eyes. He saw himself falling through the air. He knew what he was turning into. He was turning into the worst kind of human on the planet: an old bitter dork. Saw himself at the Game Room, picking through the miniatures for the rest of his life. He didn't want this future but he couldn't see how it could be avoided, couldn't figure his way out of it. Fukú.”

WorldWayWantYearsHumansKindEyeFallGamesBlackHurtRoomsSawsAirWorstFiguresChangedPlanetsQuietSkinsTiredBitterHis EyesFlashOscarsDesperationAvoidedMiniaturesDorkQuiet Desperation
Book:The Brief Wondrous Life of Oscar Wao
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“Oxford, in those days, was still a city of aquatint. In her spacious and quiet streets men walked and spoke as they had done in Newman's day; her autumnal mists, her grey springtime, and the rare glory of her summer days - such as that day - when the chestnut was in flower and the bells rang out high and clear over her gables and cupolas, exhaled the soft airs of centuries of youth. It was this cloistral hush which gave our laughter its resonance, and carried it still, joyously, over the intervening clamour.”

MenStillsDoneCitiesClearAirStreetsCenturyYouthFlowerQuietSummerGloryLaughterSpokesBellsGreyMistSpringtimeOxfordResonanceHushSummer DaysInterveningNewmanChestnutsBrideshead RevisitedClamour
Author:Evelyn Waugh
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“Outside, there was that predawn kind of clarity, where the momentum of living has not quite captured the day. The air was not filled with conversation or thought bubbles or laughter or sidelong glances. Everyone was sleeping, all of their ideas and hopes and hidden agendas entangled in the dream world, leaving this world clear and crisp and cold as a bottle of milk in the fridge.”

WorldKindIdeasDreamSleepMorningClearAirThis WorldColdQuietConversationLaughterFilledLeavingClarityAgendasBottlesMilkBubblesGlancesMomentumCapturedCrispsFridgesDream WorldFunny Good Morning
Book:The Selected Works of T. S. Spivet: A Novel
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“You took a walk on a Sunday afternoon and came to a nice neighborhood, very refined. You saw a small one of these trees through the iron gate leading to someone's yard and you knew that soon that section of Brooklyn would get to be a tenement district. The tree knew. It came there first. Afterwards, poor foreigners seeped in and the quiet old brownstone houses were hacked up into flats, feather beds were pushed out on the window sills to air and the Tree of Heaven flourished. That was the kind of tree it was. It liked poor people.”

PeopleFirstsKindHouseHeavenWalksPoorSawsNiceAirTreeBedQuietWindowNeighborhoodSundayIronFlatsGatesAfternoonYardsSectionsPoor PeopleFeathersForeignersBrooklynRefinedHackedSunday AfternoonsTenements
Book:A Tree Grows in Brooklyn
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“summer, after all, is a time when wonderful things can happen to quiet people. for those few months, you’re not required to be who everyone thinks you are, and that cut-grass smell in the air and the chance to dive into the deep end of a pool give you a courage you don’t have the rest of the year. you can be grateful and easy, with no eyes on you, and no past. summer just opens the door and lets you out.”

PeopleThinkingGivingYearsEndsHappensEyePastEasyChanceCuttingWonderfulDoorsAirChildhoodMonthsQuietSummerGratefulSmellGrassPoolBe GratefulWonderful ThingsSummer LoveQuiet PeopleHot SummerSummer Is ComingCute SummerSummer Time
Author:Deb Caletti
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“There you'll find the place I love most in the world. The place where I grew thin from dreaming. My village, rising from the plain. Shaded with trees and leaves like a piggy bank filled with memories. You'll see why a person would want to live there forever. Dawn, morning, mid-day, night: all the same, except for the changes in the air. The air changes the color of things there. And life whirs by as quiet as a murmur...the pure murmuring of life.”

WorldWantPersonsDreamNightMemoriesMorningForeverAirTreeColorGrewPureQuietFilledDawnRisingVillageMurmuringPiggyDay NightPiggy Bank
Author:Juan Rulfo
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“I tensed, waiting for the fury - both his and mine - but it was only quiet and calm in the darkness of his room. I could almost taste the sweetness of reunion in the air, a separate fragrance from the perfume of his breath; the emptiness when we were apart left its own bitter aftertaste, something I didn't consciously notice until it was removed. There was no friction in the space between us. The stillness was peaceful - not like the calm before the tempest, but like a clear night untouched by even the dream of a storm.”

DreamNightLeftWaitingSpaceRoomsDarknessClearAirMinesTasteQuietBreathsCalmStormBitterPeacefulEmptinessStillnessSweetnessPerfumeFragranceFuryReunionTempestSpace BetweenFriction
Book:Eclipse
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“Po swirled upward from where it had been sitting, and floated over to the window. "When you go swimming and you put your head under the water," Po said, "and everything is strange and underwater-sounding, and strange and underwater-looking, you don't miss the air do you? You don't miss the above-water sounds and the above-water look. It's just different." "True." Liesl was quiet for a moment. Then she added, "But I bet you'd miss it if you were drowning. I bet you'd really miss the air then."”

IfsLooksSaidDifferentMomentsSoundWaterAirMissingStrangeQuietSittingWindowSwimmingDrowningUnderwater
Author:Lauren Oliver
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“It is just dawn, daylight: that gray and lonely suspension filled with the peaceful and tentative waking of birds. The air, inbreathed, is like spring water. He breathes deep and slow, feeling with each breath himself diffuse in the natural grayness, becoming one with loneliness and quiet that has never known fury or despair. "That was all I wanted," he thinks, in a quiet and slow amazement. "That was all, for thirty years. That didn't seem to be a whole lot to ask in thirty years.”

ThinkingYearsWholeFeelingsSeemsWantedAsksWaterNaturalKnownAirLonelinessBecomingQuietDespairSpringBirdLonelyBreathsFilledBreathePeacefulDawnThirtyGrayWakingFuryThirty YearsDaylightAmazementSuspensionBecoming OneSpring Water
Author:William Faulkner
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