Quotes About Ambiguity

Fly Heisenberg Airlines – we don't know where we are, but we're making damned good time.

You are afraid of us. You are afraid because you don't know what we might do.

We talked about each story for a while, and then Verla talked about heroes and villains. 'Nobody is all good or all bad,' she told us. 'The world is painted in shades of gray.

Words, he decided, were inadequate at best, impossible at worst. They meant too many things. Or they meant nothing at all.

He didn't think she was his enemy. But certainly not his friend.

Her lips twisted. "I don't like you," she told me, but there was a lie in her voice, and she stopped talking, looking almost surprised.

Coyote had told me once that changes were neither good nor bad—but brought with them some of both.

That was uncomfortable.Am I dead? No such luck

In a widely cited piece titled "The Middle-Class Black's burden," Ms. McClain laments, "I am not comfortably middle class; I am uncomfortably middle class. I have made it, but where?

I may long for certainty, but I have to live with doing the best I can.

You are trying to capture the fog, and no one can do that.

Might-have-beens are insidious, aren't they, in the way they don't ever quite lie still or go away.

These labels, usually not carefully chosen or given much thought, go on to form your beliefs. These are hazards with relatively accurate and descriptive labels—what about when you unwittingly use labels that are ambiguous, inconsistent, or inaccurate?

Poetry was something everyone could agree on because no one could be certain of what it was about.

All was strange in a fog, buildings grew vague, human beings groped and became lost, the landmarks, the compass points, by which they navigated melted into nothingness and the world was transfigured into a country of the blind. But if the sighted became blind, then the blind - and for some odd reason I have always regarded myself as one of the blind - the blind became sighted, and I remember felling at home in the fog, happily at ease in the murk and gloom that so confused my neighbors.

Lots of people perish on the highways. All those faces should be preserved, engagements kept, promises upheld. Impossible. I walked out instantly. Fleeing the scene of a crime. That kind of game can destroy you. Anyway, I've never known who I was. I authorize my biographer to simply call me "a man," and I wish him luck. I've been unable to lengthen my stride, my breath, or my sentences. He won't understand the first thing about this story. Neither do I. We're even.

The more obscure and mysterious things remained, the more interested I became in them. I even looked for mystery where there was none.

Siempre paso miedo cuando vuelvo a pie a casa a estas horas... No sé exactamente dónde estoy...» Y era cierto que había que cruzar por una tierra de nadie o más bien por una zona neutra en la que uno estaba aislado de todo.

Il existait à Paris des zones intermédiaires, des no man's land où l'on était à la lisière de tout, en transit, ou même en suspens.

De tous les caractères d'imprimerie, il m'avait dit qu'il préférait les points de suspensions.

Somos classificados nas mais estranhas categorias, das quais nunca ouvimos falar, e que não correspondem ao que somos, em absoluto. Convocam-nos. Internam-nos. Bem que gostaríamos de saber o motivo.

La nuit tombe tôt et cela vaut mieux : elle efface la grisaille et la monotonie de ces jours de pluie où l'on se demande s'il fait vraiment jour et si l'on ne traverse pas un état intermédiaire, une sorte d'éclipsé morne, qui se prolonge jusqu'à la fin de l'après-midi.

Cette sensation d'étrangeté est la même que celle qui vous prend lorsque vous marchez en rêve dans un quartier inconnu. Au réveil, vous réalisez peu à peu que les rues de ce quartier étaient décalquées sur celles qui vous sont familières le jour.

Ces après-midi d'été où vous ne savez plus très bien en quelle année vous êtes.