Henry Wadsworth Longfellow Quotes

The sun to me is dark And silent as the moon, When she deserts the night Hid in her vacant interlunar cave.

He could not feel her near him in the darkness nor hear her voice touch his ear. He waited for some minutes listening. He could hear nothing: the night was perfectly silent. He listened again: perfectly silent. He felt that he was alone.

He turns his back to the far shore and rows toward it. He can in this way travel away from, yet still see, his house....he feels he is riding a floating skeleton...Some birds in the almost-dark are flying as close to their reflections as possible.

When you are not near me, I make the sound of one hand clapping.

...the sound of our lack of conversation amplified by the echo of our footsteps on the stone around us.

When I cannot see words curling like rings of smoke round me I am in darkness—I am nothing.

My witness is the empty sky.

Six is the hardest number for me to experience, the smallest. It's the absence of something - it's cold, dark, almost like a black hole. If someone tells me they are depressed, I might imagine myself in the hole of a six to help me empathise.

Absolute silence leads to sadness. It is the image of death.

Weeks go by, and I don't talk to another living soul.

No one is talking. No one is emailing. No one is texting. It's spooky and scary.

I often feel I'm working in a vacuum, or in a country where few readers hear the sounds.

The house clock, place certain there at the bottom of things, strikes the half hour dry and null. All is so much, all is so deep, all is so dark and cold!

The shadows of the room pool in the lines of our faces, draining our eyes of hue. "There's nothing left worth saying.

Once a month I wake in the night, slippery with terror. I'm afraid, not because there's someone in the room, in the dark, in the bed, but because there isn't. I'm afraid of the emptiness, which lies beside me like a corpse.

Nothing echoes like an empty mailbox.

When I fell out of the light, I entered The stomach of indifference, the wordless cupboard.

I hate holidays because it's the quietest; it's the most deafening sound in my apartment.

And so faintly you came tapping, tapping at my chamber door, That I scarce was sure I heard you"— here I opened wide the door; — Darkness there, and nothing more.

You can wet the rim of a glass and run your finger around the rim and it will make a sound. This is what I feel like: this sound of glass. I feel like the word shatter. I want to be with someone.

Earth, left silent by the wind of night,Seems shrunken 'neath the gray unmeasured height.

How loud clocks can tick when a room is empty, and one is alone!

I am entirely alone. I and my shadow fill the universe.

I am here, alone, at the end of the world. I reach out and touch nothing.”.

Within, walls continued upright, bricks met neatly, floors were firm, and doors were sensibly shut; silence lay steadily against the wood and stone of Hill House, and whatever walked there, walked alone.