Quotes About Questioning

We needed to stop asking about the meaning of life.

Clever people seem not to feel the natural pleasure of bewilderment, and are always answering questions when the chief relish of a life is to go on asking them.

Life has to be given a meaning because of the obvious fact that it has no meaning.

Do you know where you going to? Do you like the things that life is showing you? Where are you going to? Do you know?

Is today a good day to die? This is something I ask myself in the morning when I wake up. In third period when I'm trying to keep my eyes open while Mr. Schroeder drones on and on. At the supper table as I'm passing the green beans. At night when I'm lying awake because my brain won't shut off due to all there is to think about. Is today the day? And if not today—when?

Could I have done more? Possibly. Yes. We can always do more. It's a tough question to answer, and, ultimately, a pointless one to ask. You might be feeling some of the same emotions and having some of these same thoughts.

I abandoned the assigned problems in standard calculus textbooks and followed my curiosity. Wherever I happened to be--a Vegas casino, Disneyland, surfing in Hawaii, or sweating on the elliptical in Boesel's Green Microgym--I asked myself, "Where is the calculus in this experience?

What did he do to you?" I asked her, ignoring the darkening of the bear's looming face. "Nothing," she declared, enunciating distinctly. "Do you think every man wants to get me in his bed?" "Every man who's not dead already—or gelded.

We broke so easily. Like it was nothing. Like we were nothing. Does that mean it was never meant to be in the first place? That we were an accident of fate? If we were meant to be, how could we both walk away like that?

We broke so easily. Like it was nothing. Like we were nothing. Does that mean it was never meant to be in the first place? That we were an accident of fate? If we were meant to be, how could we both walk away just like that?

Who could have done this to me?" I wail, pressing my hands to my cheeks. "I can't feel my face. Is my face still my face?

God, I don't know! Quit interrogating me, Peter.

I can feel tears and panic building up inside me. If she asks me another question, it will be too much, and I'll cry.

Are you thinking about Conrad?" he asked mockingly.

Are we together now?" is what I'm wondering, but I don't ask, because he puts his arm around me and tilts my head up to his, and I'm nervous again. "Don't be nervous," he says.

No estoy segura de si dejó de estar enamorada de él o es que nunca lo estuvo. Enamorada, quiero decir.

Josh gives me a dubious look.

The problem I had with understanding Catholicism was that it seemed like there were loopholes everywhere. In my young brain, I couldn't quite grasp how there could be any loopholes with the very strict set of rules they gave us. It really confused me. I began to wonder how I could follow these rules when I didn't even know what they truly meant.

How is that even possible?" the philosopher says. "He's one of the kindest people I've ever met." She knows. She knows. So it begs the question, doesn't it? Did she unkind and ungood and untrue him?

No set line between lost and not lost.

How about this motherfucking darkness?

Never laugh at the man that asks 'stupid' questions. Just remember, when all of society thought the world was flat, a man once questioned, "What if the world was round?

Curiosity is the direct incontinence of the spirit.

When I say we should never ask why, I am not talking about the reactive and spontaneous cry of anguish when calamity first befalls us or one we love. Rather, I am speaking of the persistent and demanding why that has an accusatory tone toward God in it.