Quotes On Quiet Person Novels & Stories

Because I am removing something invisible. The performance. The act. The role. I wash my hands longer than necessary. Long enough to feel clean again. I stare at the water running over my skin. Steady. Controlled. Just like me. “They always talk too much,” I whisper. The words come out before I can stop them. But they are true. Men always talk too much. They underestimate silence. They mistake quiet for weakness. They mistake stillness for ignorance. They mistake me. And that is their mistake.

"Does this person have a soul? Down with the ingrate!" Alfie arrived with a few security guards to disperse the crowd, but I raised a hand to stop him. "No need to chase them away." I walked right up to Quinn's camera. Looking directly into the phone where comments were flying by, calling for my head, I flashed a smile. "Since you've started a live stream, let's have the whole Internet weigh in on this." I pulled a stack of documents from my bag and displayed them to the lens. "Everyone, since my cousin claims I've stolen the family fortune, let's do the math.

At the sharp profile in the April morning light and the dark eyes looking at the ceiling with the specific quality of someone who was simply present in a moment rather than moving through it toward the next thing. "What do we do with quiet," she said. He turned and looked at her. The full and immediate attention. Always her first. "We learn it," he said. "We have not had much practice." She thought about this. About seven years of moving too fast for quiet to catch up and six years of filling quiet with operational precision and the specific irony of two people who had spent most of their adult lives running from or toward things discovering that what they had arrived at was stillness. "I do

I really want to know so bad all the thoughts that pass through Nick's head behind that unwavering, stoic and blank expression on him. I hate it. I really really hate it. Well, I'll be honest but I've always been a total sucker for the quiet types. Not the weirdo ones but you know the intelligent, gentleman and the man of a few words kind. I find it intimidating when a man is mysterious, since most guys I know talks too much, and it's annoying sometimes. Quiet types are sexy, for me. Intensely mysterious too. But Nick is worst than a quiet person. If there's a word quieter than quiet then I think that's him. That's Nick. But no matter how I try to hate him, he's still sexy as hell and it's f

It is also because of this monstrous personality that when taking a break or at lunch, everyone invites everyone to go together, only me is silent alone, no one has any intention of inviting me to go with me, which I have just heard just want quiet. Today as usual, when everybody went to eat together, the room fell into silence, to the point where I could hear my own breath. I wasn't very hungry, so I leaned back, leaning against the back of the chair, gently closing my eyes and feeling this rare peace. No more laughing or scolding, that is really quiet... quiet.

I thought I was the only sad person in this world but when I looked at his face, I realized that everyone was having their own share of one problem or the other. I looked back down at my coffee and took another sip. As I savored the taste, I felt grateful for this moment of stillness; my mind was not racing and wondering at this point. I heard the man next to me let out a sigh. I looked up and saw that he had put his phone down and was staring off into space. I wondered what he was thinking about, and I felt a sudden urge to talk to him. I took a deep breath and said, I just wanted to talk to someone before I go insane. The quietness brought negative thoughts and worries to my mind. The man

“Never thought that.” “I know that now,” she said quickly. “It’s just... you’ve got this way of being in the room without saying a word, but it’s like your presence fills it anyway.” I shrugged. “Not trying to.” “I know,” she said, then paused. “I think I kind of like it now.” “Like what?” “That you don’t fill the space with words,” she said. “It’s... different. Most people can’t stand silence. They just ramble. But you? You let the quiet sit. It’s... nice.”

But the words jammed in my throat. She beat me to it. “You’re quieter than you look,” she said softly, her eyes on me. I blinked, caught off guard. “Is that… a good thing or a bad thing?” She tilted her head, considering. “Depends. Quiet people usually notice more than they say. Sometimes that makes them the most interesting.” I felt the corners of my mouth twitch into a smile. “Or the most boring.” She smirked. “We’ll see.” Before I could say more, Jeffrey’s voice carried from inside. “Come on, you two!”

"So give them the why." She looks at me across the counter. Something behind her eyes that is not sadness exactly. Something older than sadness. "She would have liked you," she says quietly. "She had no patience for men who performed strength. She always said real strength is quiet." I hold her gaze. Do not look away. "She sounds like someone worth knowing," I say. Sophia nods. Looks back down at her soup. "Tonight," she says again. Firmer this time. Like a decision already half-made just waiting for the rest of her to catch up.

Be good and it will all be alright. Liam was the same way. It was always worse when he was quiet. When the man was loud and boisterous, the most she had to worry about was his insults or sexual comments. Loud Liam, talkative Liam, those were him in a good mood. There was nothing that man loved more than hearing the sound of his own voice. Quiet Liam was dangerous. Quiet Liam meant pack your bags and book a hotel for the next few days. It meant schedule work so you have an excuse to not be home with him. It meant run.