oldschool

you talk when you cease to be at peace with your thoughts; and when you can no longer dwell in the solitude of your heart you live in your lips, and sound is a diversion and a pass time. And much of your talking, thining, half murdered. For thought is a bird of space, that in a cage of words may indeed unfold its wings but cannot fly.
There are those among who seek the talkative through fear of being alone. The silence of aloneness reveals to their eyes their naked selves and they would escape. ANd there are those who talk, and with out knowledge or forethought reveals a truth which they themselves do not understand. And there are those who have the truth with in them, but they tell it not in words. In the bosom of such as these the spirit dwells in rhythmic silence.
When you meet your friend on the roadside or in the market place, let the spirit in you move your lips and direct your toungue. Let the voice with in the voice speak to the ear of his ear; For his soul will keep the truth of your heart as the taste of the wine is remembered When the colour is forgotten and the vessel is no more.
K. Gibran