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In the stillness, Lera could hear the guttural cawing of a crow.
NEWYORKER: The Repatriates
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No one at Karakol was sure when the next Pakistan-bound bus was due, but in the stillness of this place I heard it long before it appeared: a distant whine among silent mountains.
BBC: Following the Silk Road to the end of China
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Modern Egypt (especially Cairo, where I live) doesn't offer much in the way of solitude or stillness, and suddenly I found myself immersed in nothing but.
WSJ: Staying at Adr��re Amellal in Siwa, Egypt
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Watching them hop from branch to branch as they get their fill and move out of the way for others to feed may not be meditation, per se, but it's something similar -- a reminder that the world can offer peace and stillness, even in the midst of mayhem.
CNN: How one busy mom found her inner peace
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Then his hands froze and he lifted his head, gazed off to the side in a fugue of stillness, listening.
NEWYORKER: The Reptile Garden
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Ryan Gosling is a touch too sympathetic for the freeze-dried, laconic Driver whom we follow in the first half, and, once the mood is fractured and he starts to dish out bestial beatings, that stillness is badly devalued.
NEWYORKER: Road Kill
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When you build a warehouse of stillness within, you can call upon that calm in the midst of chaos.
FORBES: 5 Keys to Transform Workplace Holiday Stress From the Inside Out
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Directors liked his craggy, lived-in face, his menacing stillness, and his ability to dominate the screen while remaining silent.
ECONOMIST: Charles Bronson
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In that stillness his heartbeat gradually slows and memory brings back images of the day.
NEWYORKER: Labyrinth
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Or else, shocked into stillness, gazing around themselves as if in wonder, searching for comfort in the faces of strangers.
NPR: 'Ancestor Stones:' Life and War in Sierra Leone
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The director, Bruno Dumont, works in Cinemascope, and the enormous, sharply focussed images breathe air and light and a richly suggestive stillness, a palpable sense of something powerful beneath the skin.
NEWYORKER: Humanit��
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The best part of the day was getting up at dawn and going down to the cool gray kitchen, the dark garden waiting at the door like some curious beast strayed in from the fields, a casual attentiveness in the coming light that seemed ready to include me, as it did everything else, in a soft, foreign stillness.
NEWYORKER: The Cold Outside