Quotes About Questioning

Sometimes I doubt, and sometimes I believe. I like not making myself believe when I am doubting and not making myself doubt when I am believing.

When you begin to question the narrative of yourself and inquire as to who is even doing all of this talking inside your own head, you may come to realize that you have no idea!

Pat was a serious listener. He was one of the first people who really challenged my ideas: 'Do you really believe that? Why? Don't accept everything you read. You should question it all, take what makes sense, and throw away the rest.' He was constantly asking, 'Did you ever consider this? What about that?' He changed the way I thought. (quoting Russell Baer, Army Ranger.)

For the thoughtful believer, then, there is nothing more certain than the reality of uncertainty, nothing more natural than doubt, which is perhaps thirty seconds younger than faith itself (And even that approximation may be giving faith too much of a headstart).

Don't you know the name of your lonely, Walker?

Even then, when the hike was perfect, I would wonder, 'Now what?' And take a picture. Take another picture. Like a man with a photogenic girlfriend he didn't love.

Robin turned and looked straight into her. "What's life for?" "I don't know." "I don't either. But I don't think it's about winning.

what do you do all day?" "Actually, FYI," his mother said, "that can be a somewhat awkward question to ask a person.

When he happened to look at Marion directly, it was often to ask, "Where's your sister?

Just because you're an atheist, that doesn't mean you wouldn't love for things to have reasons for why they are.

I could not believe in a God that would challenge faith like this.

She said, 'Believe it or not, I used to be idealistic.' I asked her what 'idealistic' meant. 'It means you live by what you think is right.' 'You don't do that anymore?' 'There are questions I don't ask anymore.

It was the first time I had ever made love. I wondered if he knew that. It felt like crying. I wondered, Why does anyone ever make love?

I wondered, for the first time in my life, if life was worth all the work it took to live. What exactly made it worth it?

We stopped laughing, I took the world into me, rearranged it, and sent it back out as a question: Do you like me?

He Wrote, Are you OK? I told him, My eyes are crummy. He wrote, But are you OK? I told him, That's a very complicated question. He wrote, That's a very simple answer. I asked, Are you OK? He wrote, Some mornings I wake up feeling grateful.

I realized I was on a something island. 'How did I get here,' I wondered, surrounded by Nothing, and how can I get back?

I wondered, for the first time in my life, if life was worth all the work it took to live.

there were so many different ways to die, and I just need to know which was his.

There is something about eating animals that tends to polarize: never eat them or never sincerely question eating them; become an activist or disdain activists.

It made me start to wonderif there were other people so loney so close. I thought about Eleanor Rigby. It's true, where do they all come from? And where do they all belong?

Is God sad? He would have to exist to be sad, wouldn't He? I know, she said, giving his shoulder a little slap. That's why I was asking, so I might finally know if you believed! Well, let me leave it at this: if God does exist, He would have a great deal to be sad about. And if He doesn't exist, then that too would make Him quite sad, I imagine. So to answer your question, God must be sad.

What if it was man and not God that did all of this? I do not believe in man, either.

Its so painful to think, and tell me what did thinking ever do for me, to what great place did thinking ever get me?