Silence reveals itself in a thousand inexpressible forms: in the quiet of the dawn, in the noiseless aspiration of trees toward the sky, in the stealthy descent of night, in the silent changing of the seasons, in the falling moonlight, trickling down into the night like a rain of silence, but above all in the silence of the inward soul — all these forms of silence are nameless.
— Max Picard, The Spirit of Silence by John Lane