Quiet Book Novels & Stories

I grumbled. "How can you handle them? They're so quiet, no food, no drinks, surrounded by a bunch of old books and you can't talk properly." Quinn complained. "Quietness isn't necessarily a bad thing, Quinn." I drawled. "You don't have to fill every moment with some kind of sound." "What is wrong with you, woman?" they chimed again. I smacked them both in the arm and pouted. "There's nothing wrong with liking a bit of peace and quiet every now and then."

Quinnel said suddenly and all eyes turned to him. "Uh, Navaeh, what is your worst habit?" "I tend to walk to and fro when I'm nervous and I also always eat the meat that is meant for the toppings of Pizza." She replied and everyone chuckled. "I eat the cheese as well." "What's the last book you read?" "That would be... Alpha's Gifted Mate." "Oh? Sounds interesting. I like the title." "It is." "I've read that book! It's good." "Me too." "I didn't expect you to be into supernatural fanfictions."

"What's this?" "Go ahead, open it." Rosie carefully started unwrapping the gift to reveal a book. "I Go Quiet," she glanced up at Anthony, a gentle smile tugging on her lips. "I haven't heard of this one." Anthony shrugged nonchalantly, his heart pattering with anxiety. He was terrified to see her reaction, scared she would hate it. "I'm not much of a bookworm so it might just be the worst thing you've ever read. My grandmother helped pick it out."

One page at a time. One person at a time. One still, deep, patient day at a time. Until the water found its level. And the room became real. And the invisible all the invisible became seen. THE SILENT LUNA End of Volume One

Lina The library is quiet except for the soft scratch of quills and the occasional flutter of pages. Dust motes drift lazily through the shafts of afternoon light, and the scent of old parchment fills the air. I’ve always liked this part of the castle—the stacks stretch high like ancient trees, their shelves filled with secrets no one remembers to read.

Joanna replied, leaning back in her chair as if she were just chatting. Henley's hand trembled around the pen, his face going pale. "Why are you suddenly interested in gossip?" Joanna's tone remained light, but her gaze was unrelenting. "The rumor's everywhere. And I've had some time on my hands lately. I guess I've just been paying attention." She let her words hang in the air before adding, "It's shocking, isn't it? Knowing someone for years, only to realize they're capable of something like that."

BUT THIS ⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅• IS PRESENT DAY. ANYWAYS, PLEASE ENJOY! ༻☆✫☆༺ The Goodwill library was a sanctuary of knowledge and silence. Tall wooden shelves lined the walls, filled with countless books that whispered secrets of the past and promises of the future. The soft hum of the air conditioning and the occasional rustle of pages turning created a soothing atmosphere. Students were scattered throughout the library, some hunched over their computers, others buried in textbooks, all lost in their own worlds of study and contemplation.

~QUINN~ My eyes staying focused on nothing else, I flipped to the next page. While Gwen busied herself in the living room, I lay on the bed enjoying the silence in the bedroom that made for a perfect opportunity to enjoy one of my favourite hobbies. Reading. Being a bookworm, despite how I may appear to people, was one of the best traits I appreciated. There was something about burying my nose in the pages of a book that soothed my mind. It took my imaginations to a world. A world free of worries.

The familiar sequence — key in the lock, the slight resistance of the door, the sound of her bag hitting the floor. Then Anne herself, stepping in with the exhaustion of someone who had been holding other people together all day. She dropped onto the couch. “Tell me the evening is going to be quiet.” “I made food,” Joy said. “You’re my favourite person.” They ate on the couch. No television. Just the quiet shift into evening. Joy was quieter than usual. “How was your day?” Anne asked. “Quiet. You?” Anne exhaled. “Tiring. One of my clients was having a harder day. Those ones stay with you.”

"The blur is gone." The quiet was a good quiet. The inhabited quiet. The two of them at the kitchen table with cold tea and the commission drawings at the other end and the lamp making its circle and the north wall shelves holding their books and the field guide in its place and all of it — all of it — exactly what it was supposed to be.