Robert Adams Quotes

At home, I love reaching out into that absolute silence, when you can hear the owl or the wind.

I go among trees and sit still. All my stirring becomes quiet around me like circles on water.

Seek out a tree and let it teach you stillness.

Silence is best.

Then everything was still. Absolutely still.

Lie down and listen to the crabgrass grow.

Quiet is here and all in me. ("Dress of White Silk")

The grey nurse resumed her knitting as Peter Walsh, on the hot seat beside her, began snoring. In her grey dress, moving her hands indefatigably yet quietly, she seemed like the champion of the rights of sleepers, like one of those spectral presences which rise in twilight in woods made of sky and branches. The solitary traveler, haunter of lanes, disturber of ferns, and devastator of hemlock plants, looking up, suddenly sees the giant figure at the end of the ride.

n OthI n g can s urPas s the m y SteR y of s tilLnes s

Gentle day's flower - The hummingbird competes With the stillness of the air.

In our absence, the violet early evening light pours in the bay window, filling the still room like water poured into a glass. The glass is delicate. The thin, tight surface of the liquid light trembles. But it does not break. Time does not pass. Not yet.

How sweet the moonlight sleeps upon this bank Here we will sit, and let the sounds of music Creep in our ears; soft stillness, and the night Become the touches of sweet harmony

Ah, I could lay me down in this long grass And close my eyes, and let the quiet wind Blow over me

No stir of air was there, Not so much life as on a summer's day Robs not one light seed from the feather'd grass, But where the dead leaf fell, there did it rest.

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.

After a run of several night events, you begin to appreciate the solitude and the quiet backstage.

A slight sound at evening lifts me up by the ears, and makes life seem inexpressibly serene and grand. It may be Uranus, or it may be in the shutter.

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.

I know that when the world surrenders, pallid, to repose, the murmur of a tranquil stream through the deep silence flows.

The silence that is in the starry sky, / The sleep that is among the lonely hills.

The light died in the low clouds. Falling snow drank in the dusk. Shrouded in silence, the branches wrapped me in their peace. When the boundaries were erased, once again the wonder: that *I* exist.

Hushed as midnight silence.

One June evening, when the orchards were pink-blossomed again, when the frogs were singing silverly sweet in the marshes about the head of the Lake of Shining Waters, and the air was full of the savor of clover fields and balsamic fir woods, Anne was sitting by her gable window. She had been studying her lessons, but it had grown too dark to see the book, so she had fallen into wide-eyed reverie, looking out past the boughs of the Snow Queen, once more bestarred with its tufts of blossom.