Quotes On Quiet Person Mga Nobela at Kwento

I couldn’t speak until I was eight years old. Everyone in the Sterling family called me dumb. Even my mother would secretly wipe away tears, convinced she had given birth to an autistic daughter. Whenever my father looked at me, his eyes were filled with nothing but disappointment. However, for the sake of the family’s reputation, he could never bring himself to send me away to a special education school. Then came the day someone from a prominent hedge fund company arrived to acquire our family company, Sterling Group. He was so arrogant that he chewed out everyone in the boardroom until all of them hung their heads low. The room full of corporate executives fell silent, too terrified to

When i am listening to the tune of your voice plucking the strings of my heart and all i can breathe is you. I like that comfortable quiet that sneaks in upon us in a murmur of solace, that quiet that requires two to make. That is my favourite kind silence. I found that silences talk, and that they are loud, and opinionated. I learnt that silences say more than words ever speak I learnt that we never hear them sing, 'cause we just don't listen—Amanda.

"I want to know how deep you go." His fingers stopped. "That's what she said." I blinked. "Who are you and what have you done to the Ivan Trevelyan?" Look at us, having a normal conversation. "Has anyone ever told you, you talk too much?" Okay, never mind. I pretended to think for a while. "Nope, I don't think so." "Well, you do. Silence is underrated. I think what everybody needs to do is sit down in calm, peaceful silence and try to understand its concept. Not in a sad, depressing way but to just sit down and not do or think about anything. It's nice."

She made sure to keep her voice low and her eyes to the door. "You did not call to get my permission I guess, you called to inform me right?" "Both, if you say no, I'll stay." She replied. "You have my approval, but remember, the less you talk the more you listen. The smartest person in a room is always the quiet one, do you know why?" Pop's cautioned. "Because, they listen to others spill their foolishness." She answered. "Good, it is preferable to be termed foolish and be wise rather than being praised for being high witted but dumb." He dropped one of his quotes again.

The tension was thick, but not the suffocating kind, it was warm, electric. I glanced up at him, heart aching from the way he looked at me. Like I wasn’t broken. Like I hadn’t been discarded or betrayed. “I used to be afraid of quiet moments,” I whispered. “Now I think… they might be where I feel the safest.” Alan’s voice dropped to a murmur. “That’s because you’re with someone who’d rather hear your silence than someone else’s noise.” The words melted something in me. I stepped closer. “Why do you always say the right things at the worst times?”

featured student-written suggestions: “Give the tired kid a smile, not a question” “Let someone sit alone without making them feel alone” “Not everyone wants to lead. Some want to help” “If someone says thank you with their eyes, it still counts” Sophie passed the wall on her way to drop off jam at the teacher’s desk. She paused. She added one: “Build quietly. It echoes.”

*Erico's POV* People always think I’m the quiet one because I prefer silence. They’re wrong. Silence isn’t a preference. It’s an instinct. A shield. A survival mechanism that’s kept me alive longer than I deserve. But around her… Silence becomes a battlefield.

“You’re up early.” “Couldn’t sleep. The quiet keeps finding me.” I leaned against the fence, the wood cold beneath my hands. “The quiet is usually a good thing.” “It is. But it’s also strange. I keep waiting for the sound of something breaking. The snap of a branch, the creak of a gate, the whisper of something moving in the dark.” I let that settle in my chest. I felt the cold seep through my coat, pressing against my shoulders. “Maybe we don’t know how to rest without waiting for the blow.”

“Anything. Something ordinary. Something that has nothing to do with the company or the investigation or any of the things we’ve spent the past months talking about.” He considered this seriously, which I had expected. He never answered questions without actually considering them. “I can’t sleep in complete silence,” he said finally. “I need some ambient sound. White noise, rain, traffic anything. Complete quiet makes it impossible.” He paused. “I’ve never told anyone that.” I looked at him. “Why not?” “It seemed like the kind of thing people would find strange.” “It’s not strange,” I said. “It’s human.” He held my gaze. “Your turn.”