Just as each new seed requires a period of gestation -- a time of deep silence and solitude -- so, too, we need such seasons. "Someone wrote me recently and asked if it wasn't frustrating to have exterior solitude interrupted. Well, you learn to live out of your interior solitude. And perhaps this is one of the keys to living in the madness, the telescoping demands and resulting exhaustion of our society: to explore our own interior solitude and learn not only to be afraid of it but to live out if its self-discipline, its limitless resources and deep silence. Solitude is like a tea ceremony, the celebration of life in all its homely movements taken out of time -- the wonder of the commonplace, the mystery of ordinary life ... Solitude is being poured-out-through. We evolve toward simplicity. We dwell in the Word."
Those who neglect silence bring only a distracted heart and a preoccupied mind to their prayer and, instead of deriving new strength from it, they only offer God a heart full of trifles. Intimate conversation with God is easily stifled if you do not first put an end to exterior chatter; yet, if you love silence and keep it well, your heart will be a temple where God will dwell and become known to you there.