He remembered as though it were a few days ago, that winter night, long ago, himself too young to know the meaning of beauty when he had looked up at the delicate tracery of bare black branches against the icy glittering stars; Suddenly something that was, all at once, pain and longing and adoring had welled up inside him, almost choking him. He had wanted to tell someone, but he had no words, inarticulate in the pain and glory. It was long afterwards that he realized it had been his first aesthetic experience. That nameless something that stopped his heart was Beauty.
I too have experienced these moments. Sitting alone with God. No words, just silence. Pretty cool.
In silence, we listen to ourselves, and in quietude, we may even hear the voice of God.