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The Silent Symphony

Marcel M. du Plessis

Top 10 Best Quotes

“It was a place of dreams and fortunes. So coveted were the treasures of the City that the masters of old encircled it in a wall. As high as the clouds. As thick as ignorance. The wall was the first thing you noticed about the City and the first thing you wanted to forget.”

“Even in the darkest night, hope glints on the iris like a distant fire.”

“Zaqar Publishing House, a beast of red brick and chipped plaster, protruded from the surrounding buildings like a broken branch in swamp muck. You could hear the whirring of the massive printing presses from the street. Soot and smoke coated the walls, making it look like a smudge. This was, of course, in the days before the paper’s façade had to yellow for it to survive.”

“Within these walls, That keep us in; We muffle calls, We don’t begin. Here dancing is fighting, And serpents speak truth, Forever denying, A voice of youth. And so, we’re trapped in silence, Never to kick free from the viscous prison, Awaiting the talons of the next tyrant, Never to recall heroes once risen. Never to speak, Never to see.”

“The keys started clicking the moment the light of dawn touched the windows. Cas sat on his knees and typed. He stopped. A paragraph. An unbalanced, meandering, paragraph. He ripped it out and turned it over. Fingers rested on the letters. Beginnings gave him the most trouble.”

“Neon signs flashed the word “NEWS” in ironic yellow.”

“My eyes opened to a bright room, decked with ornament and trinket. Beyond my canvas, draped over a chase langue, was the ivory form of a naked woman. Shapely. Curvaceous. Exciting. Her face was soft. Her auburn hair was shinny and straight – a bugger to paint. Not quite the countenance of an angel. This was a face made ordinary by the slight departure of youth. But I will fix this.”

“Just outside the walls of the City, trouble was brewing. They came in boats from a land far across the sea. Many boats crammed with many hopefuls washed up on the shores in the shadow of the great cliffs. Like driftwood. These flotsam people were dazed, broken – perhaps at an extreme – optimistic. Surely there would be salvation within the thick city walls? They appeared in a whisper – like the hissing of the surf. No citizen came to welcome them. No delegates. No photo-ops for ambitious politicians. Instead, only the City’s military – soldiers and officers with faces as hard and blank as the cliff the City teetered upon – were waiting. They were herded in silence. Those without papers were left on the stony beach. There would be tents, bunks, and prefab houses in time. The lucky ones were escorted up the great lifts and transported along the subway system – out of sight. A Downtown station would process them. See this crowd of Driftwood people, Eva. See them huddle together in the dark, the glint of hope in their eyes. The color of their skin, how the women covered their hair, and how the men wore their beards – these were the superficial differences that would mark them so starkly here. The label of ‘other’ already hung around their necks without them even knowing.”

“He saw the hiding people, their whispers sounded like the turning of a thousand pages – pages filled with stories he yearned to read.”

“Cassius Wortham was possessive of his notebook. He believed that his ideas – however big or small – were fragile things that could melt away under the condemnatory gaze of a stranger.”

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Book Keywords:

writing, refugees, fake-news, silence, wall, poem, hope, voiceless, yellow-journalism, news, secrets, walls, writers, press, art, painting, stories, fighting, notebooks, nudity, poetry, media, otherness, rebellion, beginnings, writer-s-block, artist, othering, free-speech

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