Silence (n.) is a state the mind is incapable of being forced into. Only when water is left alone does it become clear and calm.
Silence (n.) is the mark of the knower: those who know do not speak; those who speak do not know.
Silence (n.) is the empty space of a two-line poem: the mind does not think about the poem but feels what it evokes, all the more for its saying so little.
Silence (n.) from a therapist is inevitably a comment on the patient, and "I won't tell you what to do" is still a direction.
Silence (n.) was academic philosophy's golden chance after the Tractatus — but even Wittgenstein went on talking, for how else can a philosopher show he isn't just goofing off?
Silence (n.) does not cost you your tongue; only through it do you find something new to talk about.
Silence (n.) turns out to be full in John Cage's silent recitals: shuffling feet, rustling programs, embarrassed titters, coughing, traffic.