“Words are more powerful than some noises. Noises won't last long. Lyrics are so important, and people don't realise that.”

Varanasi 2nd Public Talk (22 November 1964)
1960s
Context: You know, in the case of most of us, the mind is noisy, everlastingly chattering to itself, soliloquizing or chattering about something, or trying to talk to itself, to convince itself of something; it is always moving, noisy. And from that noise, we act. Any action born of noise produces more noise, more confusion. But if you have observed and learnt what it means to communicate, the difficulty of communication, the non-verbalization of the mind — that is, that communicates and receives communication—, then, as life is a movement, you will, in your action, move on naturally, freely, easily, without any effort, to that state of communion. And in that state of communion, if you enquire more deeply, you will find that you are not only in communion with nature, with the world, with everything about you, but also in communion with yourself.

BBC obituary (2004)

Source: 1910's, The Art of Noise', 1913, p. 9

Source: The Woman Who Rides Like a Man

Hace más ruído un sólo hombre gritando que cien mil que están callados.
100 Masones Su Palabra (2010)

Les gens sans bruit sont dangereux.
Book VIII (1678–1679), fable 23.
Fables (1668–1679)

[Blake Lewis' profile, http://myspace.com/blakelewis, 2007-06-04, MySpace]
["What Are You Doing This Weekend?: Bshorty Farewell Party with KJ Sawka + Ra Scion + Joe Doria", http://www.seattleweekly.com/music/blogs/reverb/what_are_you_doing_this_weekend/, 2007-06-04, January 26, 2007, Seattle Weekly, Aja Pecknold]
On music

As quoted in O₂ : Breathing New Life Into Faith (2008) by Richard Dahlstrom, Ch. 4 : Artisans of Hope: Stepping into God's Kingdom Story, p. 63; this source is disputed as it does not cite an original document for the quote. It is also used in <i> The White Rose </i> (1991) by Lillian Garrett-Groag, a monologue during Sophie's interrogation.
Disputed
Context: The real damage is done by those millions who want to "survive." The honest men who just want to be left in peace. Those who don't want their little lives disturbed by anything bigger than themselves. Those with no sides and no causes. Those who won't take measure of their own strength, for fear of antagonizing their own weakness. Those who don't like to make waves — or enemies. Those for whom freedom, honor, truth, and principles are only literature. Those who live small, mate small, die small. It's the reductionist approach to life: if you keep it small, you'll keep it under control. If you don't make any noise, the bogeyman won't find you. But it's all an illusion, because they die too, those people who roll up their spirits into tiny little balls so as to be safe. Safe?! From what? Life is always on the edge of death; narrow streets lead to the same place as wide avenues, and a little candle burns itself out just like a flaming torch does. I choose my own way to burn.