Painting is the silence of thought and the music of sight.
Love is a sacred silence.
When you look into the faces of these quiet creatures who don't know how to tell stories--who are mute, who can't make themselves heard, who fade into the woodwork, who only think of the perfect answer after the fact, after they're back at home, who can never think of a story that anyone else will find interesting--is there not more depth and more meaning in them? You can see every letter of every untold story swimming on their faces, and all the signs of silence, dejection, and even defeat. You can even imagine your own face in those faces, can't you?
The silence of snow, thought the man sitting just behind the bus driver.
Snow reminds Ka of God! But I’m not sure it would be accurate. What brings me close to God is the silence of snow.
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