absence of sound Quotes

Silence is a still noise.

The loudest noise in the world is silence.

oblivion has been noticed as the offspring of silence.

And where there is no Echo there is no description of space or love. There is only silence.

Silence never yet betrayed any one!

there is no noise louder than a silent phone.

Sometimes silence can seem so loud.

... it is not difference which immobilizes us, but silence.

You tell yourself that noise is what defines silence. Without noise, silence would not be golden. Noise is the exception.

It's quiet. No cars. No birds. Nothing.' 'No radio waves,' said the Doctor. 'Not even Radio Four.' 'You can hear radio waves?' 'Of course not. Nobody can hear radio waves,' he said unconvincingly.

Silence is like a flame, you see?

Try as we may to make a silence, we cannot.

It was the same way with silence. This was more than silence. A deaf person can feel vibrations. Here there was nothing to feel.

Silence is the unbearable repartee.

The difference between deafness and any other disability is that there is no way to put yourself in a position of knowing what it would be like because you can't stop yourself from hearing your own breath or your own heartbeat. You can not remove sound entirely from your life. You can get a sense of what being blind is like by closing and covering your eyes which provides a source of empathy because we can all project ourselves to that. But people who think they can project themselves into deafness are mistaken because you can't.

I am obsessed by the idea of silence. I went through an entire library studying art, artists and their critics, philosophers, too, on the meaning and significance of the color white. I dreamed of white birds and white bears. I thought about the white pages of my mother's journals. I became enthralled with John Cage and his work, 4'33”, his masterpiece of ambient sound. Rauschenberg, too. And then at some point I let go. What sticks to the soul is what gets placed on the page. Maybe that's the unknown part, the mystery, the power of the empty page.

And then more quiet, silence so deep it almost drowned out the roar of the night music that pounded away in my secret self.

Silence is the bluntest of blunt instruments.

I am interested in silences

There was no wind; there was no passing shadow on the deep shade of the night; there was no noise. The city lay behind him, lighted here and there, and starry worlds were hidden by the masonry of spire and roof that hardly made out any shapes against the sky. Dark and lonely distance lay around him everywhere, and the clocks were faintly striking two.

Your voices break and falter in the darkness, Break, falter, and are still.

In the stillness, a fly would not have dared clear it's throat.

There was only silence. It was the silence of matter caught in the act and embarrassed. There were no cells moving, and yet there were cells. I could see the shape of the land, how it lay holding silence. Its poise and its stillness were unendurable, like the ring of the silence you hear in your skull when you're little and notice you're living the ring which resumes later in life when you're sick.

There is a state when words cease and silence prevails.

Silence is the language of inertia.