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Quiet Quotes

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Quiet Quotes

“I was terribly sure trees and flowers were the same as birds or people. That they thought things and talked among themselves. And we could hear them if we really tried. It was just a matter of emptying your head of all other sounds. Being very quiet and listening very hard. Sometimes I still believe that. But one can never get quiet enough.”

PeopleIfsBelieveStillsSometimesMatterHardEnoughSoundTreeFlowerListeningQuietBirdI Still Believe
Book:In Cold Blood
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“I can write anywhere really. I have a hard time writing when the birds are tweeting and the brooks are running outside. I've tried that several times, for months at a time, trying to write in a quiet, wonderful place where birds are twittering and coffee's brewing. And nothing happens. But if I'm in an old dump like my old apartment and I can't find my fingernail clippers and nothing's working except the old tea maker, that's just great. You always have to find and live in a place that's a little uncomfortable when you're a writer. You need a burr in your side.”

WritingTryingRunningWonderfulQuietBirdThings HappenTeaUncomfortableHard TimesApartment
Author:James McBride
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“What lips my lips have kissed, and where, and why, I have forgotten, and what arms have lain Under my head till morning, but the rain Is full of ghosts tonight, that tap and sigh Upon the glass and listen for reply, And in my heart there stirs a quiet pain For unremembered lads that not again Will turn to me at midnight with a cry. Thus in the winter stands the lonely tree, Nor knows what birds have vanished one by one, Yet knows its boughs more silent than before: I cannot say what loves have come and gone, I only know that summer sang in me A little while, that in me sings no more.”

KnowsHeartLittlesPainTurnsMorningGoneTreeCryArmsMy HeartQuietSummerBirdRainLonelySilentWinterForgottenLipsGlassesGhostTonightMidnightSighLadLonely Trees
Author:Edna St. Vincent Millay
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“It is so short and jumbled and jangled, Sam, because there is nothing intelligent to say about a massacre. Everybody is supposed to be dead, to never say anything or want anything ever again. Everything is supposed to be very quiet after a massacre, and it always is, except for the birds. And what do the birds say? All there is to say about a massacre, things like "Poo-tee-weet?”

WantFiveQuietBirdIntelligentSupposed To BeSay AnythingSlaughterMassacresTeesSlaughterhousesSlaughterhouse FiveSlaughterhouse 5Slaughter House 5Slaughter House Five
Book:SLAUGHTERHOUSE-FIVE
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“When we are alone on a starlit night, when by chance we see the migrating birds in autumn descending on a grove of junipers to rest and eat; when we see children in a moment when they are really children, when we know love in our own hearts; or when, like the Japanese poet, Basho, we hear an old frog land in a quiet pond with a solitary splash - at such times the awakening, the turning inside out of all values, the "newness," the emptiness and the purity of vision that make themselves evident, all these provide a glimpse of the cosmic dance.”

KnowsLifeHeartChildrenMomentsNightValuesChanceVisionLandPoetQuietBirdAwakeningPurityEmptinessAutumnCosmicSolitaryEvidentGlimpseAwakenedFrogsPondsNewnessDescendingGrove
Author:Thomas Merton
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“When the spent sun throws up its rays on cloud And goes down burning into the gulf below, No voice in nature is heard to cry aloud At what has happened. Birds, at least must know It is the change to darkness in the sky. Murmuring something quiet in her breast, One bird begins to close a faded eye; Or overtaken too far from his nest, Hurrying low above the grove, some waif Swoops just in time to his remembered tree. At most he thinks or twitters softly, 'Safe! Now let the night be dark for all of me. Let the night be too dark for me to see Into the future. Let what will be, be.”

ThinkingKnowsEyeNightVoiceDarkDarknessSunHappenedHeardTreeSkyCryQuietSafeLowsBirdCloudsBurningRememberedBreastsRaysNestsFadedGroveHurryingMurmuring
Book:Complete Poems of Robert Frost: 1949
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“At times God puts us through the discipline of darkness to teach us to heed Him. Song birds are taught to sing in the dark, and we are put into the shadow of God's hand until we learn to hear Him...Watch where God puts you into darkness, and when you are there keep your mouth shut. Are you in the dark just now in your circumstances, or in your life with God? Then remain quiet...When you are in the dark, listen, and God will give you a very precious message for someone else when you get into the light.”

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Author:Oswald Chambers
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“Standing here, in this quiet house where I can hear the birds chirping out back, I think I’m kind of getting the concept of closure. It’s no big dramatic before-after. It’s more like that melancholy feeling you get at the end of a really good vacation. Something special is ending, and you’re sad, but you can’t be that sad because, hey, it was good while it lasted, and there’ll be other vacations, other good times.”

ThinkingKindI CanEndsFeelingsBigsHouseSpecialQuietBirdConceptsStandingHeyDramaticGood TimesMelancholyVacationSomething SpecialClosureWhere She WentBirds Chirping
Author:Gayle Forman
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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.”

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Author:William Faulkner
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“Soft you day, be velvet soft, My true love approaches, Look you bright, you dusty sun, Array your golden coaches. Soft you wind, be soft as silk My true love is speaking. Hold you birds, your silver throats, His golden voice I'm seeking. Come you death, in haste, do come My shroud of black be weaving, Quiet my heart, be deathly quiet, My true love is leaving.”

LooksHeartBlackVoiceLove IsSunWindMy HeartQuietApproachBirdLeavingSeekingCoachesGoldenSilverThroatHasteSilkVelvetTrue Love IsWeavingShroudsMy True Love
Book:The Complete Poetry
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