Quotes & Sayings About Silent Friendship

Bruce is still my friend. We don't talk much. We don't have to. He is great and in his own league. I'm not him and he is not me. But we are on similar paths, writing and singing out own kind of songs around the world, along with Bob and a few other singer/songwriters. It is a a silent fraternity of sorts, occupying this space in people's souls with our music. Last year, I lost my right-hand man, the pedal steel guitarist Ben Keith. This year Bruce lost his right-hand man, the saxophonist Clarence Clemons. It's time for another talk; friends can help each other just by being there. Now both of us will look to our right and see a giant hole, a memory, the past and the future. I won't play with another steel player trying to recreate Ben's parts, and I know Bruce won't play with another sax man trying to play Clarence's. Those parts are not going to happen again. They already did. That takes a lot out of our repertoires. — Neil Young

If you are silent, if I never learn one fraction more of your soul's equation/I know you. — Jeanie Thompson

I miss your silent stature, your avoided days of disaster, your present state of distress.
I'm cinnamon, cloves and fire, you are the rested cedarwood of desire. — Coco J. Ginger

In contravention of my belief that any life ending in death is essentially pointless, I needed my friends to open up that plastic bag and take one last look at me. Someone had to remember me, if only for a few more minutes in the vast silent waiting room of time. — Gary Shteyngart

We call that person who has lost his father, an orphan; and a widower that man who has lost his wife. But that man who has known the immense unhappiness of losing a friend, by what name do we call him? Here every language is silent and holds its peace in impotence. — Joseph Roux

To listen is very hard, because it asks of us so much interior stability that we no longer need to prove ourselves by speeches, arguments, statements, or declarations. True listeners no longer have an inner need to make their presence known. They are free to receive, to welcome, to accept.
Listening is much more than allowing another to talk while waiting for a chance to respond. Listening is paying full attention to others and welcoming them into our very beings. The beauty of listening is that, those who are listened to start feeling accepted, start taking their words more seriously and discovering their own true selves. Listening is a form of spiritual hospitality by which you invite strangers to become friends, to get to know their inner selves more fully, and even to dare to be silent with you. — Henri J.M. Nouwen

It's asking us our names," Falkor reported.
"I'm Atreyu!" Atreyu cried.
"I'm Falkor!" cried Falkor.
The boy without a name was silent.
Atreyu looked at him, then took him by the hand and cried: "He's Bastian Balthazar Bux!"
"It asks," Falkor translated, "why he doesn't speak for himself."
"He can't," said Atreyu. "He has forgotten everything."
Falkor listened again to the roaring of the fountain.
"Without memory, it says, he cannot come in. The snakes won't let him through."
Atreyu replied: "I have stored up everything he told us about himself and his world. I vouch for him."
Falkor listened.
"It wants to know by what right?"
"I am his friend," said Atreyu. — Michael Ende

We sit, silent, the comfortable way only good friends can sit. — Alex Flinn

There was a time in our lives when we were so close that nothing seemed to obstruct our friendship and brotherhood, and only a small footbridge separated us. Just as you were about to step on it, I asked you "Do you want to cross the footbridge to me?" - Immediately you did not want to anymore; and when I asked you again you remained silent. Since then mountains and torrential rivers and whatever separates and alienates have been cast between us, and even if we wanted to get together, we couldn't. But when you now think of that little footbridge, words fail you and you sob and marvel. — Irvin D. Yalom

Sorry' is just a word ... A word that acquires a little bit of strength when uttered by a heart, which believes in its power, but yours is silent. — Irina Serban

But love, honest love, requires empathy. It is a sharing - of joy, of pain, of laughter, and of tears. Honest love makes one's soul a reflection of the partner's moods. And as a room seems larger when it is lined with mirrors, so do the joys become amplified. And as the individual items within the mirrored room seem less acute, so does pain diminish and fade, stretched thin by the sharing. That is the beauty of love, whether in passion or friendship. A sharing that multiplies the joys and thins the pains. — R.A. Salvatore

I'd just started to realise how important it was to intersperse my 80 Dates with some normal socialising, preferably with female friends. Dating was really demanding: there was all the stress of preparation and anticipation. Then there was the date intself: fraught with revealing body-language and full of silent 'I can't believe he just said that' moments.
...I needed relaxed, 'no agenda' fun with girlfriends to help offset the pressure of dating and stop me obsessing about 'I can't believe I just said that' moments of my own. — Jennifer Cox

You know it is the most relaxed thing when you when you sit with a best friend and you know there is nothing you have to tell him to empty your mind. We just stayed there together, silent in the dusk like this, and we were quite happy. — Michael Ondaatje

Do you keep silent to keep a friendship or do you try to lend your support unconditionally, even if what they are doing goes against everything you believe in? Will it be principles over friendship, morality over love? — Donna Lynn Hope

Konnor said a silent prayer and made his move. He slid his hand over the curve of Grayson's neck and took the gigantic leap into the unknown. He kissed him.
A few braincells died the moment Grayson kissed him back. Then a few more, when those perfect lips he'd been admiring for the last six months opened beneath his kiss.
He kissed Grayson the way he'd always wanted to kiss him, teasing those parted lips with a lick of appreciation before slipping his tongue into his mouth. A tongue brushed his and he moaned at the little shots of pleasure that coursed through his whole body.
Kissing Grayson was better than any sex with Tam. Just as he'd always known it would be. He had always found kissing to be such an intimate thing, so delicious and nerve shattering. No physical thing could say what a kiss could; not in his mind. — Elaine White

There is a primal reassurance in being touched, in knowing that someone else, someone close to you, wants to be touching you. There is a bone-deep security that goes with the brush of a human hand, a silent, reflex-level affirmation that someone is near, that someone cares. — Jim Butcher

Why are you so hard on yourself?
I love you just the way you are,
with your withered coat and wet scarf dangling like a spotless chandelier.
The snow banks in Montreal are high, but I can see your trace, and silent grace and tin cup through the paned window.
The precipitation melts your face, distorting your expression through the aged glass; broken, when I threw ancient stones to get your attention
as a child.
I wanted a friend. The honest kind. — V.S. Atbay

Slowly we became silent, and silence itself if an enemy to friendship. — Norman Maclean

One friend with hidden intentions is equal to One Hundred Silent Assassins. — Srinivas Shenoy

In human closeness there is a secret edge,
Nor love nor passion can pass it above,
Let lips with lips be joined in silent rage,
And hearts be burst asunder with the love.
And friendship, too, is powerless plot,
And so years of bliss with noble tends,
When your heart is free and known not,
The slow languor of the earthy sense.
And they who strive to reach this edge are mad,
But they who reached are shocked with anguish hard -
Now you know why beneath your hand
You do not feel the beating of my heart. — Anna Akhmatova

Edgar Sawtelle is a boy without a voice, but his world, populated by the dogs his family breeds, is anything but silent. This is a remarkable story about the language of friendship - a language that transcends words. — Dalia Sofer

Are you ashamed of what I've done?" she dared to ask.
His brow creased. "Why would you ever think that?"
She couldn't quite look him in the eye as she ran a finger down the blanket. "Are you?"
Aedion was silent long enough that she lifted her head - but found him gazing toward the door, as though he could see through it, across the city, to the captain. When he turned to her, his handsome face was open - soft in a way she doubted many ever saw. "Never," he said. "I could never be ashamed of you. — Sarah J. Maas