Isaac of Niniveh | Friends of Silence

Lover of silence

Life is so filled with paradox! Words so often get in the way -- yet, we go into the Silence to hear the Word. And what a blessing are the words of Scripture, the words of individuals in every age that continue to live as gift. Isaac of Niniveh, a Syrian monk, offers us reflections on silence:

"If you love truth, be a lover of silence. Silence like the sunlight will illuminate you in God and will deliver you from the phantoms of ignorance. Silence will unite you to God ... More than all things love silence: it brings you a fruit that tongue cannot describe. In the beginning we have to force ourselves to be silent. But then there is born something that draws us to silence. May God give you an experience of this "something" that is born of silence. If only you practice this, untold light will dawn on you in consequence ... After a while, a certain sweetness is born in the heart and the body is drawn almost by force to remain in silence."

Newsletter Subscription

There is no cost to have the Friends of Silence monthly letter sent to you each month.

Yes, I want to subscribe!

Donate Now

For the past 35 years, a small band of dedicated friends have poured their hearts and love into Friends of Silence.

Each month we send out the newsletter in print and email to a growing community of over 10,000 people.

The monthly newsletter of contemplative quotes remains free and is made possible by your generosity and support.

If our work brings you any hope and a sense of belonging, then please consider supporting our labor of love with a donation.

And if you’ve already given, from the bottom of our hearts: THANK YOU.

Donate Now

Search Quotes

Quotations by Author
Quotations by Source
Quotations by Topic
Random Quotes
Get iPhone App

Quote of the Day

Out here in the woods I can think of nothing except God. It is not so much that I think of [God] as I am aware of [God] as I am of the sun and the clouds and the blue sky and the thin cedar trees...engulfed in the simple and lucid actuality of the afternoon — I mean God's afternoon — this sacramental moment of time when the shadows will get longer and longer and one small bird sings quietly in the cedars, one car goes by in the remote distance, and the oak leaves move in the wind.

High up in the summer sky I watch the silent flight of a vulture, and the day goes by in prayer. This solitude confirms my call to solitude. The more I'm in it, the more I love it.

~ Thomas Merton in DIALOGUES WITH SILENCE