Quotes About Ambiguity

Girl, aging girl, is haunted by own nothingness & devours views from windows (stories, movies, overheard talk &sights in the street, pictures in newspapers, etc.) with continuous feeling she is 'just about', miraculously, to come into her own her own life

I had the impression it wasn't night and it wasn't day, but some lurid third interval that had suddenly slipped between them and would never end.

Cómo podría yo saber si algún día en la universidad, en Europa, en algún lugar, en cualquier lugar, la campana de cristal con sus asfixiantes distorsiones, no volvería a descender?

What the hell is tragedy? I am.

I'LL BE FLYING BACK AND FORTH BETWEEN ONE MUTUALLY EXCLUSIVE THING AND ANOTHER FOR THE REST OF MY DAYS!!!

We are not what we might be; what we are Outlaws all extrapolation Beyond the interval of now and here: White whales are gone with the white ocean.

I shall move north. I shall move into a long blackness. I see myself as a shadow, neither man nor woman, Neither a woman, happy to be like a man, nor a man Blunt and flat enough to feel no lack. I feel a lack. I hold my fingers up, ten white pickets. See, the darkness is leaking from the cracks. I cannot contain it. I cannot contain my life.

Let us go then, you and I, When the evening is spread out against the sky Like a patient etherised upon a table;

Who is the third who walks always beside you? When I count, there are only you and I together But when I look ahead up the white road There is always another one walking beside you Gliding wrapt in a brown mantle, hooded I do not know whether a man or a woman —But who is that on the other side of you?

For you know only a heap of broken images

It is impossible to say just what I mean!

Streets that follow like a tedious argument Of insidious intent To lead you to an overwhelming question...

As things are, and as fundamentally they must always be, poetry is not a career, but a mug's game. No honest poet can ever feel quite sure of the permanent value of what he has written: He may have wasted his time and messed up his life for nothing.

Who is the third who walks always beside you? 360 When I count, there are only you and I together But when I look ahead up the white road There is always another one walking beside you Gliding wrapt in a brown mantle, hooded I do not know whether a man or a woman —But who is that on the other side of you?

No! I am not Prince Hamlet, nor was meant to be;

I am no prophet—and here's no great matter; I have seen the moment of my greatness flicker

Well! and what if she should die some afternoon, Afternoon grey and smoky, evening yellow and rose; Should die and leave me sitting pen in hand With the smoke coming down above the housetops; Doubtful, for a while Not knowing what to feel or if I understand Or whether wise or foolish, tardy or too soon . . . Would she not have the advantage, after all? This music is successful with a "dying fall" Now that we talk of dying— And should I have the right to smile?

A curse is like a child, formed To grow to maturity: Accident is design And design is accident In a cloud of unknowing.

Son of man, You cannot say, or guess, for you know only A heap of broken images

No! I am not Prince Hamlet, nor was meant to be; Am an attendant lord, one that will do To swell a progress, start a scene or two, Advise the prince; no doubt, an easy tool, Deferential, glad to be of use, Politic, cautious, and meticulous; Full of high sentence, but a bit obtuse; At times, indeed, almost ridiculous— Almost, at times, the Fool.

So we face our final hours...and all that was once certain has become uncertain. Except for defeat. That, as always, is the end of all our stories.

Theo knew enough about women and their clothes to recognize she was trying to strike an appropriate balance between... what? Between liking him and hating him? Between wanting to look good and not wanting to look too available? Just because he knew a mixed message when he saw one didn't mean he knew exactly which messages were being mixed

So that's what--one yes, one not sure, and one I had had a dream about a bug.

Welcome, Simon, to the world of those who are every day condemned to thinking and wondering and never ever knowing with certainness.