I'm not that kind of animal. I have a tendency to talk too much. But I also find myself longing to hold my cards to my chest, to people watch from a corner booth
Silence may well be golden, but what's so great about gold? It depends how it is employed, really. You can stay quiet, keeping your feet well away from your mouth; you may escape with your reputation preserved, but is this better than allowing yourself to be wrong, to be horribly naked, to induce vomiting?
I sometimes hush myself, when I think I'd prefer to listen, or prefer to meditate. But holding back thoughts because I worry I may sound stupid? I fight against this. I'd rather spew broken poems than die with the perfect haiku stuck in my throat