“Not every loss was confirmed by an officer at the door. Nor a telegram with the power to sink a fleet. Loss, often the worst kind, also arrived through the deafening quiet of an absence.”

“This is how most stories end in the hospital. Not with crash carts and sirens and electric shocks to the chest, but with an empty room, a crisp white bed, silence.”

“The city outside, so busy, so full of life, seemed in stark contrast to the deathly silence inside their home. It seemed…like a muffled silence, as if the house itself was holding its breath, waiting…”

“The sound is gone. There’s nothing left but the insomniac throbbing of crickets. Crickets in the garden, the courtyard, the back courtyard. Close, domestic, identifiable. And those out in the country. Between all of them they raise, little by little, a wall that will keep out the thing that lies waiting for the tiniest crack of silence to steal through. The thing that is feared by all those who are sleepless, those who walk through the night, those who are lonely, children. That thing. The voice of the dead. ”

“O dear Himalaya…why are you so amazing, can I kiss your peak or can I just let your silence speak…O dear Himalaya…”

“You ask me why I don’t speakNot a word at willBut write so much worth well over a mill’Well I value words like I value kissesA sober one, a closer one penetrates the heartDarling it’s how it mends it”

“I wanted to listen to him, but I did not want to answer now. That strange responsibility we feel towards others when they speak, to offer them the solace of any answer. Poor humans! And anyway he had not asked a question. He was merely floating there in the room, insubstantial, a living man in the midst of life, dying imperceptibly on his feet, like all of us.”

“A dead dog is more quiet than a house on the steppes, a chair in a empty room.”

“When we walk in the sunour shadows are like barges of silence.”

“a silent night. – the most eloquent poem i have ever read.”

“Poems are difficult to silence.”

“Four billion people on this earthbut my imagination is still the same.It’s bad with large numbers.It’s still taken by particularity.It flits in the dark like a flashlight,illuminating only random faceswhile all the rest go by,never coming to mind and never really missed.”

“You alwaysdrop by, to en-lighten my mind,when my wings arefeeling heavy &i’ve forgottenhow tofly.”

“I want to create a place for us, like a room. And I want to store everything that I come across as a memory of us, in there. Years after, someday I will take you there in the middle of the night. I want to see you at that moment. I want to watch you drowning in the memories helplessly, losing the bounds of time, getting weaker every second. And then I want to hold you in these arms in those moments of never-ending the silence. Where only our eyes speak, while we look at each other, like the dreams that we never want to stop seeing.”