“ELECTED Silence, sing to me And beat upon my whorlèd ear, Pipe me to pastures still and be The music that I care to hear.”

“But let me have silence always, in the centre of the shouting—that is essential! Let me have silence so that no pin may drop and not be heard, and not a whisper escape us for all our spouting, nor the needle's scratching upon this gramophone of a circular cosmic spot. Hear me! Mark me! Learn me! Throw the mind's ear open—shut up the mind's eye—all will be music!”

“I press my ear against his chest, to the spot where I always rest my head, where I know I will hear the strong and steady beat of his heart. Instead, I find silence.”

“Do you hear the people sing?Singing a song of angry men?It is the music of a peopleWho will not be slaves again!When the beating of your heartEchoes the beating of the drumsThere is a life about to startWhen tomorrow comes!”

“I had a romance novel inside me, but I paid three sailors to beat it out of me with steel pipes.”

“It is certain," exclaimed my uncle in a tone of triumph. "But silence, do you hear me? silence upon the whole subject; and let no one get before us in this design of discovering the centre of the earth.”