Quotes About Questioning

But he could not help wondering, as he did, that if he was so damn wise, why was his life in such a mess?

A 'why' is a dangerous thing," said Haplo. "It challenges old, comfortable ways; forces people to think about what they do instead of just mindlessly doing it. No wonder your people are afraid of it." "I think the danger is not so much in asking the 'why' as in believing you have come up with the only answer," said Alfred, seeming almost to be talking to himself.

Un "perché" è sempre pericoloso – disse Haplo – mette in forse vecchi, confortevoli sistemi di vita, costringe la gente a pensare a quello che fa, anziché farlo semplicemente senza pensare. Non c'è da stupirsi se le persone ne hanno paura - Io credo che il pericolo non risieda tanto nel chiedere "perchè" quanto nel credere di essere giunti alla risposta definitiva – osservò Alfred come parlando a se stesso.

Vuestra Reverencia hace de mí un luterano? -preguntó el filósofo con débil sonrisa. -No, amigo mío, temo que no tengáis bastante fe para ser un hereje.

So I'm back again to the eternal question, the one that has plagued me all my life: How Do Other People Do It? How come they were given life's rule book and I missed out? Where was I when God was dispensing capability and cop on? Looking at shoes, probably.

Why would we 'swing' when we had praying?

If it was that beautiful, why did I leave you

Si deseamos una sanación genuina de nuestros corazones—no sólo un arreglar las cosas o vendar la aorta rota del espíritu—debemos cuestionar las suposiciones más fundamentales del ego.

This question is posed to mayself, am I a man who thinks he's an angel? Or an angel who thinks he's a man?

Art is a big question mark.

Christianity is a life, not a doctrine . . . I'm not saying never doubt or question. The Lord gave you a mind so that you would make honest use of it. I'm saying you must be sure that the doubts and questions are your own.

It seems to me some people just go around lookin' to get their faith unsettled. That has been the fashion for the last hundred years or so.

So my advice is this—don't look for proofs. Don't bother with them at all. They are never sufficient to the question, and they're always a little impertinent, I think, because they claim for God a place within our conceptual grasp. And they will likely sound wrong to you even if you convince someone else with them.

I have always wondered what relationship this present reality bears to an ultimate reality.

He said, I'm glad to see you. Why? He laughed. Well, that's what people say sometimes. Besides, I AM glad to see you. They walked on like that, right past the store. She said, Why? He laughed again. You ask such interesting questions. And you don't answer 'em. He nodded. It felt very good to have him walking beside her. Good like rest and quiet, like something you could live without but you needed anyway. That you had to learn how to miss, and then you'd never stop missing it.

It was Coleridge who said Christianity is a life, not a doctrine, words to that effect. I'm not saying never doubt or question. The Lord gave you a mind so that you would make honest use of it. I'm saying you must be sure that the doubts and questions are your own, not, so to speak, the mustache and walking stick that happen to be the fashion of any particular moment.

I am in a state of categorical unbelief. I don't even believe God doesn't exist, if you see what I mean. (Jack Boughton)

She used to ask herself, What more could I wish? But she always distrusted that question, because she knew there were limits to her experience that precluded her knowing what there was to be wished.

Boughton takes a very dim view of him, because he unsettled the faith of many people, but I take issue as much with those people as with Feuerbach. It seems to me some people just go around looking to get their faith unsettled.

would come to me and ask me how the Lord could allow such a thing. I felt like asking them what the Lord would have to do to tell us He didn't allow something.

Había dejado de ser un peruano en muchos sentidos, sin duda. ¿Qué era, entonces? Tampoco había llegado a ser un europeo, ni en Francia, ni mucho menos en Inglaterra. ¿Qué eras, pues, Ricardito?

automóviles, edificios desiguales y descoloridos, esqueletos de avisos luminosos flotando en la neblina, el mediodía gris. ¿En qué momento se había jodido el Perú?

Queta, señora? Sí, y Amalia no lo creía, con el

Pero un día perdí la fe y nunca más la he recobrado. Creo que la perdí apenas empecé a pensar. Para ser creyente no conviene pensar mucho.