Benedict Wong Quotes

Silence is like a flame, you see?

No more words. In the name of this place we drink in with our breathing, stay quiet like a flower. So the nightbirds will start singing.

No one dare disturb the sound of silence...

But the quiet grows and grows. Beautifully and unbearably.

The true call of the desert, of the mountains, or the sea, is their silence - free of the networks of dead speech.

There is something about silence and being in the middle of nowhere that is really very attractive.

The silence of snow, thought the man sitting just behind the bus driver.

So it always is: when you escape to a desert the silence shouts in your ear.

That deep silence has a melody of its own, a sweetness unknown amid the harsh discords of the world's sounds.

It was the work of the quiet mountains, this torrent of purity at my feet.

I wrapped my arms around my knees and stared through the window's wavy glass. The red velvet curtains were drawn around the tiny alcove, and I was enveloped by an odd sense of peace, knowing that in twenty minutes, the halls were going to be crowded; music was going to be blaring; and I was going to go from being an only child to one of a hundred sisters, so I knew to savor the silence while it lasted.

Silence is exhilarating at first - as noise is - but there is a sweetness to silence outlasting exhilaration, akin to the sweetness of listening and the velvet of sleep.

Silence! I am learning to know the silence of a Tahitian night.

There comes in all our lives a time ... when the ears can listen to no music save what the moonlight breathes through the flute of silence.

Silence is a still noise.

How silent are the winds!

Although I have always loved the noise of laughter, I really can't fear the coming of quiet. As for funerals, I rather like them. Such nice things are always said about the deceased, I feel sad that they had to miss hearing it all by just a few days.

In the corridors under tehre is nothing but sleep. And stiller than ever on orchard boughs they keep Tryst with the moon, and deep is the silence, deep On moon-washed apples of wonder.

It is not often given in a noisy world to come to the places of great grief and silence.

Silence, nothing is better.

and silence is the golden mountain

And silence sounds no worse than cheers After earth has stopped the ears.

A flock of sheep that leisurely pass by One after one; the sound of rain, and bees Murmuring; the fall of rivers, winds and seas, Smooth fields, white sheets of water, and pure sky - I've thought of all by turns, and still I lie Sleepless.

The place that I love most is the stillness. It's not that the stillness is lost when I talk or when I teach because the words arise out of the stillness. But when people leave me, there is only the stillness left. And I love that so much.