Discover the most popular and inspiring quotes and sayings on the topic of Utterance. Share them with your friends on social media platforms like Facebook, Twitter, or your personal blogs, and let the world be inspired by their powerful messages. Here are the Top 100 Utterance Quotes And Sayings by 90 Authors including Muriel Rukeyser,Andrew Neff,Joseph Addison,Emile M. Cioran,Ernest Agyemang Yeboah for you to enjoy and share.
I am working out the vocabulary of my silence.
Words are only containers like a canvas holds a painting.
What's in the essence of the words you convey through the sound of your voice?
Silence is sometimes more significant and sublime than the most noble and most expressive eloquence, and is on many occasions the indication of a great mind.
A sudden silence in the middle of a conversation suddenly brings us back to essentials: it reveals how dearly we must pay for the invention of speech.
When silence become silent, it speaks silently but loudly
True Silence is really endless speech.
The poetry of speech.
Dialogue launches language, the mind, but once it is launched we develop a new power, "inner speech," and it is this that is indispensable for our further development,
Silence has a grammar all its own.
when words make noise, silence can talk.
Everything in life is speaking in spite of its apparent silence.
Each part
of speech a spark
awaiting redemption, each
a virtue, a power
in abeyance ...
A voice speaks to each of us in the still silent places - a voice that tells us to stand, to have courage, to do what is right.
Voice. And while they deepen with age, voices are, to one destined to listen for eternity, as distinct as a fingerprint.
Applause, n. The echo of a platitude.
You know There are moments when silence, prolonged and unbroken, More expressive may be than all words ever spoken.
Speech is the golden harvest that followeth the flowering of thought.
What we can't speak, we say in silence.
Sometimes silence become the most excruciating sound; sometimes the mind becomes a musical symphony of clouded thoughts, questions and clarifications but the vocals fail to present the sound of conversation.
To every whisper if you listen carefully, you will hear or fail to hear something.
Silence is the sound of our soul
Well timed silence has more eloquence than speech.
What is it that stands higher than words? Action. What is it that stands higher than action? Silence.
Speech is great, but silence is greater.
I marshalled the words and opened my mouth, thinking I would hear them. But all I heard was a kind of rattle, unintelligible even to me who knew what was intended.
The voice is a human sound which nothing inanimate can perfectly imitate. It has an authority and an insinuating property which writing lacks. It is not merely so much air, but air modulated and impregnated with life.
Of silence, I can say only what I have heard, that all things are known by that which they make or leave
and so speech isn't itself, but its effect, and silence is the same.
There is an art in silence, and there is an eloquence in it too.
Silence is a sounding thing, To one who listens hungrily
The art of utterance persuades initially by its music and its rhythm, before semiotic or personal characteristics come into play.
Speech is one of the marvels that characterize man, and also one of the most difficult spontaneous creations that have been accomplished by nature.
A voice is a human gift; it should be cherished and used, to utter fully human speech as possible. Powerlessness and silence go together.
When I speak, I speaks.
To hear, one must be silent.
Silence which in breaking up at dawn
will speak differently.
There are moments in Life when keeping silent becomes a fault, and speaking an obligation. A civic duty, a moral challenge, a categorical imperative from which we cannot escape.
The voices blend and fuse in clouded silence: silence that is infinite of space: and swiftly, silently the sound is wafted over regions of cycles of cycles of generations that have lived.
Silence is deep as Eternity, speech is shallow as Time.
silence can be words but words cannot be silence
I am barren of words. For no sounds from my mouth are worthy of your hearing
Speech may be barren; but it is ridiculous to suppose that silence is always brooding on a nestful of eggs.
The modes of speech are scarcely more variable than the modes of silence.
Silence is a language not all people understand.
Silence holds the door against the strife of tongue and all the impertinences of idle conversation.
Soundless speechless sorties of life.
Language,-human language,-after all is but little better than the croak and cackle of fowls, and other utterances of brute nature,-sometimes not so adequate.
Silent words are heard through eyes.
Silence sweeter is than speech.
They tell me, Lord, that when I seem
To be in speech with you.
Since but one voice is heard, it
Silence fueled anxieties, gave them their true power. Expressing them aloud was a way of releasing that tension, of letting go, if only for a brief time.
We can speak without voice to the trees and the clouds and the waves of the sea. Without words they respond through the rustling of leaves and the moving of clouds and the murmuring of the sea.
Silence is never-ending speech. Vocal speech obstructs the other speech of silence. In silence one is in intimate contact with the surroundings. Language is only a medium for communicating one's thoughts to another. Silence is ever speaking.
To often we speak just to hear the sound of our own voice, when we should speak only when the words are sweeter than silence.
Silence is from inner fullness
The snow has quietness in it; no songs,
no smells, no shouts or traffic.
When I speak
my own voice shocks me.
What I hide by my language, my body utters.
There is no word or action but has its echo in Eternity.
The spoken word is ephemeral. The written word, eternal. A symphony, timeless.
When we keep our silence we gather our power; when we speak we let loose the concentration of quiet reverie.
When I couldn't speak I was not drawn into silence, silence captured me.
My words are a whisper, your deafness a shout.
The language of nature is silence.
A sound waiting to be a word.
Silence remains, inescapably, a form of speech.
It is too often forgotten that the gift of speech, so centrally employed, has been elaborated as much for the purpose of concealing thought by dissimulation and lying as for the purpose of elucidating and communicating thought.
Sometimes speech is no more than a device for saying nothing - and a neater one than silence.
Silence is not an absence of sound but rather a shifting of attention toward sounds that speak to the soul.
Silence is the speech of the spiritual seeker.
There are tones of voices that mean more than words.
Listening to all words
the silent words of nature, the words of friends and enemies, and the words of scripture
can become an exercise in human yearning and divine response, flowing in and out of one's life like a river current.
Voice, according to Miss Wilcox, is not just the sound that comes from your throat but the feeling that comes from your words
My voice goes after what my eyes cannot reach, with the twirl of my tongue I encompass words and volumes of words
Silence, beautiful voice.
Speech is the index of the mind.
We are all imprisoned by the dictionary. We choose out of that vast, paper-walled prison our convicts, the little black printed words, when in truth we need fresh sounds to utter, new enfranchised noises which would produce a new effect.
Silence is as deep as eternity, speech a shallow as time.
Eloquence, at its highest pitch, leaves little room for reason or reflection, but addresses itself entirely to the desires and affections, captivating the willing hearers, and subduing their understanding.
Silence has its own language and in that silence he found words within himself; words for her, words for him and words for them.
Speech is the voice of the heart.
Speech is the image of actions
Silence, is the mother of prayer, a return from the captivity of sin, unconscious success in virtue, a continuous ascension to heaven.
The mouth speaks from well spring of the heart.
It was not a silence, just a quiet, the indrawn breath that comes before the shout.
The transformation of silence into language and action is an act of self-revelation .
Silence, it appears, is not the opposite of sound. It is another world altogether, literally offering a deeper level of thought, a journey to the bedrock of the self.
I do not forget that my voice is but one voice, my experience a mere drop in the sea, my knowledge no greater than the visual field in a microscope.
Spoken words have power beyond measure.
The soft chanting envelops us like a membrane. A
I know nothing of this silence except that it lies outside the reach of my intelligence, beyond words - that is why this silence must win, must inevitably defeat me, because it is not a presence at all.
For it is probable that when people talk aloud, the selves (of which there may be more than two thousand) are conscious of disserverment, and are trying to communicate but when communication is established there is nothing more to be said.
The realization that just as no action is really indifferent, so no utterance is without its responsibility introduces, it is true, a certain strenuosity into life.
Silence is the foundation of truth. Words are most meaningful when they emerge from silence and when they are received by a quiet mind.
Speech is silver. Silence is golden.
In no way can it be uttered, as can other things, which one can learn. Rather, from out of a full, co-existential dwelling with the thing itself - as when a spark, leaping from the fire, flares into light - so it happens, suddenly, in the soul, there to grow, alone with itself.
To hear, one must be silent.' The
The tongue never rests. It speaks even when we sleep. It speaks through the mind even when the mouth keeps shut
Silence is an easy habit. But it doesn't come naturally. Silence has to be cultivated, enforced by implication and innuendo, looks and glances, hints of dark consequence. Silence is greedy. It insists upon its own necessity. It transcends generations.
I am spoken to not in words, which come to me quaint and veiled, but in signs, in conformations of face and hands, in postures of shoulders and feet, in nuances of tune and tone, in gaps and absences whose grammar has never been recorded.
Volumes are spoken when nothing is being said.
Listen: the dark we've only ever imagined now audible, thrumming,
marbled with static like gristly meat. a chorus of engines churns.
silence taunts: a dare. everything that disappears
disappears as if returning somewhere.