One of the things he liked most about the hermitage was the silence. "Silence is my music now." He could pick up the small sounds of insects and animals. Sometimes when the wind was strong, it blew the sound of the traffic to him. He liked to think of all the people going on with their lives and to think of himself as in a sense staying where he was for their sakes, "like a lighthouse keeper."
~ from "The Music of Silence" by Phyllis Rose in Atlantic Monthly" - Oct. 1997
Arriving daffodils will make no sound, will blow no trumpets -- only the earthworm close to its root, burrowing underground, will hear the upsurge, feel the green stems yearn.
Beauty returns to Earth, devoid of noise, devoid of clamor. Now it lifts its head epitome of stillness and of poise and in unbroken silence all is said.
~ Fanny De Groot Hastings, thanks to Sally Hopkins
