For the Quiet Ones . . .

I've been thinking . . .

about the quiet ones.

They say we don’t stop to smell the roses. I think everyone pretty much knows that. The roses, the tulips, the other flowers — they do just fine without us. We’re the ones missing out on them, when we walk right by without notice.

Ah, but I’ve been remembering a conversation I had once with a guy who’s child was about to start school. We talked about how teachers spend all of their time on certain kids and how managers do too. What we realized was that everyone notices the really smart kids, the funny ones, the helpful ones, and the ones who cause problems. Everyone remembers them.

But it’s hard to remember the quiet ones.

You know the quiet ones. They are the ones who let the rest of us go first. They’re the ones, who when they smile seem to do so for no reason. They’re polite. They don’t push or shove. They don’t complain or gripe. Quite frankly, they’re easy to miss. They don’t stand or say much about what they think.

That’s why they are the quiet ones.

That doesn’t mean they aren’t thinking.

That doesn’t mean they aren’t intelligent, or entertaining, or beautiful down to the last detail. It only means that they don’t make noise.

Are they like the roses that do just fine without us?

What are we missing by not listening to the quiet ones?

This weekend, I’m going to notice all of the quiet ones.


The quiet ones who are always here . . .

The quiet ones who just happened by . . .

The quiet one inside each of us . . .

This is for you.

Liz's Signature


  1. says

    I used to be one of the quiet ones and it is people like you who offer space that’s needed to nourish the beauty within. Thanks for all you do!

  2. says

    I have fallen into every category in this post: the really smart kids, the funny ones, the helpful ones, and the ones who cause problems.

    It was a long road through school, but no one called me quiet until we moved to Florida when I was in high school. I would literally find either the table with no one there or the one where everyone was pre-occupied with each other. I’d whip out my paperback from my backpack and each my double-bagged lunch without saying a word or looking up.

    I’m glad those days are over, but they are not far removed.

  3. says

    William – you are exactly right! The quiet ones now blog.

    Like you Liz, I am going to make a conscious effort to listen to the quiet ones this weekend – not only on my blogs, but the quiet child in my household, the quiet children on my gymnastics team, and the quiet child within.

    Have a great weekend!

  4. says

    The quiet ones…

    I like Tully’s observation.

    But what about the ‘new’ quiet ones? Not the youths, not the children, but people of our age?

    Allow me to quote my wonderful (quiet) mentor, because when I read this post, Liz, I immediately thought about this little note he had sent me a few months ago:

    “I believe that with maturity one gains knowledge and experience, from which comes wisdom and confidence, and from that we feel able to deliver, in differing degrees, a very precious human characteristic – that of being able to help each other. And, as you’ve noticed, I’m sure that, as we mature, we move from being impulsive and judgemental in our formative youth to being quieter, listening and observing, being more thoughtful, and consequently less judgemental – and in being less judgemental we no longer threaten the comfort zones of those with whom we communicate.”


  5. Ajiro says

    Liz, I suspect you are not a quiet one, but I love you. This is the miracle of our time: someone thousand miles away touchs your mind and you heart everyday.

  6. says

    @ Robyn, I was bashful too. :)

    @ Jeess, I thought I was extrovert and realized I’m really not. I just try too hard.

    @Willam, we used to write alone. now we write together. And talk.

    @Char, It’s something to look forward to, isn’t it?

    @ Karin, yeah, I think with maturity — tell your mentor I’ve missed him — comes a willingness to take our time and think through our thoughts.

    @ Ajiro, I don’t look quiet, but I need to be quiet to talk so much. :)

  7. says

    Liz, I’m not the quiet one….but I’m married to the quiet one and I have learned that still waters run deep, when they spring forth it amazes, refreshes and creates a sense of awe. Look closely and you get hypnotized, curious, and surprised. They become your secret. First you tell everyone, “no, no look..look…look how great they are.” Then you stop…and start treasuring the benefits for yourself….because you decided to stop, to look, to listen, to learn from and love the quiet one.

  8. says

    Hi Susan!
    Welcome and thanks for coming over!
    What lovely things to say

    amazes, refreshes and creates a sense of awe and hypnotized, curious, and surprised

    There’s music and love inside the quiet. :)

  9. says

    I coach one of the quiet ones pro bono, and was saddened to see how much pain and anger and bitterness was buried in beneath the polite exterior. I was also in awe of the resourcefulness, compassion and creativity untapped in this young man.

    Thanks for an affirming post. I agree with William Tully: us quiet ones now have blogs!

  10. says

    Hi Pete
    It’s amazing and sad how much we can pack inside politeness. I sure hear you say that. Wow to think you got to see what was there under it all waiting to be be discovered, uncovered.

    Thank you for a comment that gives us all faith in each other. :)

  11. says

    Hi GP!
    Yeah my head knows that, if only my mouth would get the message, on some days I just have wait until my foot jumps into it before I figure that out. [shrug/blush]

    Watching in awe as GP walks away.

  12. says

    Yep, the quiet ones blog and we hold so much inside. Sometimes we smile for no apparent reason, alltimes we have deep thoughts behind our eyes.

    Yes, I know that ‘alltimes’ isn’t a word; it worked, though.

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