Literary notes about quiet (AI summary)
The term “quiet” in literature is remarkably versatile, serving as both a description of serene atmospheres and a marker of internal states. It is often used to evoke a sense of calm and tranquility, as seen when a landscape or early morning is rendered with a cool, subdued light that suggests peaceful isolation [1, 2]. At times, “quiet” carries a subtle emotional depth, hinting at introspection or underlying tension—whether in a character’s reflective silence or in moments just before dramatic shifts occur [3, 4, 5]. It also appears in dialogue as a directive, capturing a command for restraint or a call for order in a moment of disturbance [6, 7]. Thus, across narratives ranging from adventures to intimate personal accounts, “quiet” enriches the narrative, its meaning shifting fluidly from a physical description of a still environment to a metaphor for inner calm or social composure [8, 9].
- It is striking in the freshness and coolness and comparative quiet of early morning, when few are astir.
— from Toronto of Old by Henry Scadding - Outside the day was one of green and blue, With touches of a luminous glowing red, Across the quiet pond the small waves sped.
— from Poems by Rainer Maria Rilke - The dogmas of the quiet past are inadequate to the stormy present.
— from The Great Conspiracy, Volume 5 by John Alexander Logan - And besides, there’s a certain fact that has wound me up tremendously, but about that I... will keep quiet.
— from Crime and Punishment by Fyodor Dostoyevsky - But all was quiet on the stairs as if everyone was asleep....
— from Crime and Punishment by Fyodor Dostoyevsky - “Be quiet,” said Peter, in a fierce aside.
— from The Railway Children by E. Nesbit - I ask again, will you be quiet? DORANTE:
— from The Middle-Class Gentleman by Molière - Comes back and says it's all right and all quiet, and quotes the remark he lately made to Mr. Snagsby about their cooking chops at the Sol's Arms.
— from Bleak House by Charles Dickens - He hunted about a little and showed us a quiet marginal pool where there were smears of red along the border; yes, and of blue.
— from Herland by Charlotte Perkins Gilman