Silence is worse when you know it won't be broken.
Why are we embarassed by silence? What comfort do we find in all the noise?
Silence was his escape, but silence is rarely a refuge.
He never spoke of that night again, not to your mother, not to anyone else. He was ashamed for her, for Mickey, for himself. In the hospital, he stopped speaking altogether. Silence was his escape, but silence is rarely a refuge. His thoughts still haunted him.' ~pg 139
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