Quotes About Ambiguity

The lady or the tiger? My lady, the tiger.

If your the sickness,I suppose you can't also be the cure - Carden

It wasn't logical, but the better you knew someone, the more blurry they became. The accumulation of facts made them disappear. It was more interesting wondering if someone did or didn't like country music than knowing one way or the other.

but sometimes doing the wrong thing was also right.

Perhaps there were no answers to questions like that. Perhaps nothing was ever "meant to be." There was just life, and right now, and doing your best. Being a bit "bendy.

My point is that things become weird and pointless if you examine them for too long.

as their eyes met she got that feeling again, that sensation of there being something huge between them, something she couldn't quite define, something her twenty-year-old self might have called 'passion' and her thirty-year-old self might have more cynically called 'chemistry'.

things become weird and pointless if you examine them for too long.

It was the not knowing. The not fucking knowing.

it," finished Susi. "It's almost worth it." Celeste met Susi's raccoon eyes. "Yes." The blandness of Susi's gaze said nothing at all except, Got it. She wasn't being kind and maternal, and she wasn't reveling in the delicious superiority

Who knew what she would have done really;

As Jane looked around her, she felt that dissatisfied feeling she often experienced when she was somewhere new and lovely. She couldn't quite articulate it except with the words If only I were here. This little beachside café was so exquisite, she longed to be really there -- except, of course, she was there, so it didn't make sense.

Power changes everything till it is difficult to say who are the heroes and who the villains.

Almost sure wasn't good enough. Almost sure, in my experience, is the shortest road to oh fuck.

I wasn't sure if the word boys should mean dim or incomprehensible. I was hovering between the two, with a healthy dose of testosterone-poisoned.

A hand closed around her arm, warm and hard, and it could possibly have been comforting if she had possessed the faintest idea whose appendage it was.

Ah, yes, crooked paths often end in quicksand.

I'm done with the seesaw, the hot and cold, the guys who don't know or can't tell you what they want. I'm done with kissing that melts your bones followed by ten days of silence followed by a fucking pat on the arm at the T stop.

She laughed. 'Was she wine or bread to you?' 'What do you mean?' 'It's from an Amy Lowell poem we all loved in college. Wine is sort of thrilling and sensual, and bread is familiar and essential.' 'Wine, I suppose.' 'Would it have turned to bread?' 'I don't know.' 'It doesn't always.' 'No, I suppose not.

Third date, I want to say, but I can't with Silas. Our dates are not self-conscious like that. We don't acknowledge that they're happening or say what they mean. IT all feels a bit haphazard and weightless, and to call attention to this might let out too much of the air.

It's okay that I'm not sure what's next, that it might be something unexpected.

I worry that the person who thought up Muzak may be thinking up something else.

I still didn't know what the future held. I didn't have a map or even a plan. But I had learned that's what life was - risky, messy, no way to tie it up in neat little packages despite my desire for it to be otherwise.

As I stared out of the train window, the scenery became a blur, as unclear as my thoughts and feelings.