There is no silence upon the earth or under the earth like             the silence under the sea; No cries announcing birth, No sounds declaring death. There is silence when the milt is laid on the spawn in the weeds             and fungus of the rock-clefts; And silence in the growth and struggle for life. The bonitoes pounce upon the mackerel, And are themselves caught by the barracudas, The sharks kill the barracudas And the great molluscs rend the sharks, And all noiselessly— Though swift be the action and final the conflict, The drama is silent.

There is no fury upon the earth like the fury under the sea. For growl and cough and snarl are the tokens of spendthrifts             who know not the ultimate economy of rage. Moreover, the pace of the blood is too fast. But under the waves the blood is sluggard and has the same             temperature as that of the sea.

There is something pre-reptilian about a silent kill.

Two men may end their hostilities just with their battle-cries. "The devil take you," says one. "I'll see you in hell first," says the other. And these introductory salutes followed by a hail of gutturals             and sibilants are often the beginning of friendship,             for who would not prefer to be lustily damned than             to be half-heartedly blessed? No one need fear oaths that are properly enunciated, for they             belong to the inheritance of just men made perfect,             and, for all we know, of such may be the Kingdom             of Heaven.

But let silent hate be put away for it feeds upon the heart of             the hater. Today I watched two pairs of eyes. One pair was black and             the other grey. And while the owners thereof, for             the space of five seconds, walked past each other, the             grey snapped at the black and the black riddled the             grey. One looked to say—"The cat," And the other—"The cur." But no words were spoken; Not so much as a hiss or a murmur came through the perfect             enamel of the teeth; not so much as a gesture of             enmity. If the right upper lip curled over the canine, it went unnoticed. The lashes veiled the eyes not for an instant in the passing. And as between the two in respect to candour of intention or             eternity of wish, there was no choice, for the stare             was mutual and absolute. A word would have dulled the exquisite edge of the feeling, An oath would have flawed the crystallization of the hate. For only such culture could grow in a climate of silence,— Away back before the emergence of fur or feather, back to the             unvocal sea and down deep where the darkness spills             its wash on the threshold of light, where the lids             never close upon the eyes, where the inhabitants slay             in silence and are as silently slain.