Silence sweeter is than speech.

Drink, my jolly lads, drink with discerning, Wedlock's a lane where there is no turning; Never was owl more blind than a lover, Drink and be merry, lads, half …

The buttercups across the field Made sunshine rifts of splendor.

Two hands upon the breast, And labour's done; Two pale feet crossed in rest, The race is won.

Here profits not To tell the whole truth with clear face unveiled. Often is man's best wisdom to be silent.

Speech is human, silence is divine, yet also brutish and dead: therefore we must learn both arts.

In order to remain silent Da-sein must have something to say.