You can never get silence anywhere nowadays, have you noticed?

The singer and poet Bryan Ferry once remarked with quiet lament: “You can never get silence anywhere nowadays, have you noticed?” Though spoken in passing, these words reveal a deep truth about the modern condition. They are not merely an observation of noise in the world, but a cry against the loss of stillness in the soul. For what is silence but the sanctuary of thought, the cradle of imagination, the place where the heart hears itself?

To say that silence is absent is to recognize that humanity is drowning in constant sound—machines humming, voices chattering, music blaring, cities roaring without pause. In ages past, men walked in forests, sat by rivers, and slept beneath the stars in a world where silence was as natural as air. But now, as Ferry notes, even in the stillest night, there is always the hum of electricity, the drone of engines, the endless clamor of a restless age. In such a world, silence becomes not a given, but a rarity—a treasure lost.

The ancients knew the sacred power of silence. The mystics sought it in caves and deserts, believing that the divine speaks not in thunder but in the whisper. The philosophers prized it as the womb of wisdom, where reflection takes root. Even warriors understood it; before battle, there is often a silence more powerful than the clash of arms. In every age, silence has been the wellspring of strength. But in this modern time, Ferry laments, that wellspring has run dry.

Consider the story of Beethoven. As his hearing failed, he was forced into a kind of inner silence. Though tormented by his condition, it was in this silence that he wrote some of his greatest works, including the Ninth Symphony. What others might have called emptiness, he turned into abundance, drawing music from the silence within. His life testifies to Ferry’s warning: without silence, the music of the soul cannot be born.

Yet, paradoxically, the absence of silence reveals its value. In a world where noise reigns, those who can still find or create silence hold great power. The monk in his monastery, the writer in her study, the wanderer in the wilderness—these are the ones who remind us that silence is not nothingness, but fullness. It is the space where thought becomes clear, where feelings are understood, where truth is revealed.

The lesson, then, is simple but urgent: seek silence deliberately. Do not wait for the world to give it to you, for it will not. You must carve it out with your own hands. Turn off the endless voices of machines. Step outside the city’s roar. Sit in stillness, even for a few moments each day, until you hear the quiet pulse of your own heart. In silence, you will find not emptiness, but the deepest sound of all—yourself.

So, children of tomorrow, take Bryan Ferry’s lament as a warning and a guide. If the world steals silence, then reclaim it. Make it your ally, your sanctuary, your teacher. For in silence you will find clarity amid confusion, strength amid weakness, and peace amid uproar.

Thus remember always: silence is not the absence of sound, but the presence of truth. Though it grows rare in this age, it has not vanished. Seek it, cherish it, and guard it. For without silence, man is only noise; but with silence, he becomes wisdom.