Quiet sanctuary Quotes

We all need a place that we can go, And feel over the rainbow

Silence is the universal refuge, the sequel to all dull discourses and all foolish acts, a balm to our every chagrin, as welcome after satiety as after disappointment; that background which the painter may not daub, be he master or bungler, and which, however awkward a figure we may have made in the foreground, remains ever our inviolable asylum, where no indignity can assail, no personality can disturb us.

A large, still book is a piece of quietness, succulent and nourishing in a noisy world, which I approach and imbibe with "a sort of greedy enjoyment," as Marcel Proust said of those rooms of his old home whose air was "saturated with the bouquet of silence."

He was not oppressed by a crowd because in the midst of all the hullabaloo he always found a quiet place for his soul.

Hide me from day's garish eye, While the bee with honied thigh, That at her flowery work doth sing, And the waters murmuring With such consort as they keep, Entice the dewy-feathered sleep.

My eyelids are my own private cave, he murmured. That I can go to anytime I want.

I have heard stories that it was love at first sight for both of us, that we disappeared to a guest room at Merle's house, had our meals sent up, and didn't emerge for several days. This is absolutely untrue. I would never behave like that as a guest in someone's home. Carlos and I went to my beach house.

Take me someplace where we can be silent together.

I'm a big believer in small, dark, cozy bedrooms. I would describe myself as introspective - I feel things first, and then I think them through - and I need the enveloping comfort of a little squirrel's nest when I have to retreat from the world to recharge.

a sick room is at times too sacred a place for a friend's knock, timid as that is.

Dear me, how I love a library.

Leaving behind the babble of the plaza, I enter the Library. I feel, almost physically, the gravitation of the books, the enveloping serenity of order, time magically dessicated and preserved.

In this sequestered nook how sweet To sit upon my orchard seat And birds and flowers once more to greet. . . .