. . .Our whispered words, faintly in the darkness, dissolvingwithin the trees—then, fleeting words of consolationwould not suffice if feigned, and flippant wordsconfessed reluctance—our wordswere meaningless uttered on the wind. . .
— John Daniel ThiemeAll the whispering, glaring, pointing and judging makes them no better than whoever or whatever it is they're gossiping about.
— Tiffany KingI pull back, gasping for breath. Reeling. His breath is ragged, and I place my hands on his cheeks to steady him. 'Is this okay?' I whisper. 'Are you okay?'His reply is anguished. Honest. 'I love you.
— Stephanie PerkinsThere is another alphabet, whispering from every leaf, singing from every river, shimmering from every sky.
— Dejan StojanovicIn the wind that ruffles through the treesI can find thoughts of you whispering to me.
— Richard L. RatliffA stream of primal voicesWhispering in the breeze of your heartTo urge you on.
— Scott HastieHemingway is overrated,Twain is even more lost at sea,And all truths point to the mouth of a woman,Where both her whispers and her screams,Are born.Pour another glass, Beer, wine, whiskey,I don't care,So long as its wisdom is sharp,And it tells lies instead of promises.
— Dave MatthesDarkness watches me from every angle. My only friend. From its own place within the silence, it speaks to me in a strange way. It whispers secrets in my ear, telling me this is where I’m meant to be. It’s so certain, not a trace of doubt. And I think . . . I think it may be right.
— T.L. MartinI rest in ease, knowing there are others out there, whispering themselves to sleep, just like me.
— Charlotte ErikssonThe house, and all the objects in it, crackled with static electricity; undertows washed through it, the air was heavy with things that were known but not spoken. Like a hollow log, a drum, a church, it was amplified, so that conversations whispered in it sixty years ago can be half-heard today.
— Margaret Atwood