Quotes About Search

Again, we cannot search the whole world in order to make sure that nothing exists which the law forbids. Nevertheless, both kinds of strict statements, strictly existential and strictly universal, are in principle empirically decidable, each, however, in one way only: they are unilaterally decidable. Whenever it is found that something exists here or there, a strictly existential statement may thereby be verified, or a universal one falsified.

And it implies that if we respect truth, we must search for it by persistently searching for our errors: by indefatigable rational criticism, and self-criticism.

Hi, sorry to bother you. I'm Tyler Johnson. I'm looking for my dad. I thought he might be over here." Tyler Johnson was as big as his father but a lot better looking, with his father's dark hair and brown eyes. The way Buck might have looked twenty years ago. "Your father's over there in the corner," Call said. "He's about to go to jail for assaulting Ms. Sinclair.

I didn't think you would be able to find me.I was so frightened..." He took hold of her hand, brought it to his lips. "I would have looked forever if I'd had to.

I never wanted you lost, Em, only to find me.

I don't know where I've gone—where I've gone.' The world was cracking around me. I was so small. A flood of shame spilled from my eyes. 'I've lost myself—I'll never get out. Where's my island? Where's my island gone?

We have searched the wide world over and not found forgetfulness.

When men are tired of hearing and meditating upon the things of God, the fault lies within; in the background there is greed, and behind that sacrilege, and behind that again profanity. Let us search our hearts, and find whether the things of God have become merely a duty, a weariness, that we would relinquish if we dare, and to which we only hold for the sake of appearances.

Moi ? C'est une image que je poursuis, rien de plus.

Then he made one last effort to search in his heart for the place where his affection had rotted away, and he could not find it.

The bronze of the door is worthless, alas, to keep me from seeing her who comes by the walks of myrtles to search me out drunk with hatred and crazed by fate.

A good man is hard to find," she says finally. "Do you mean the O'Connor story? The one on your desk. It's an awfully dark thing to bring up at a time like this." "No, I mean you. I've been looking forever. It was only two trains and a boat away.

Alice Montague was that rarest of flowers, a beautiful woman of integrity. Someone he might even be able to trust, in time. He had searched the world for such a creature. He had her in his grasp. How could he possibly let her slip through his fingers? He could not. He could not help himself.

Why do I go outside at one a.m. and search the stars as though I'd numbered them?

The first step ... shall be to lose the way.

When you desire freedom, then you have to be willing to face what you have been running from in your search for it.

This,' whispered the Doctor to Romana, 'is going to be like trying to find a book about needles in a room full of books about haystacks.

I can't really put it in one sentence because although on one hand Preacher is about faith and yes it is also about, I suppose, the search for God, the search for faith and the manipulation and the abuse committed by figures in whom I suppose people have faith.

Perhaps that's what life is about—the search for such a connection. The search for magic. The search for the inexplicable. Not in order to explain it, or contain it. Simply in order to feel it. Because in that recognition of the sublime, we see for a moment the entire universe in the palm of our hand. And in that moment, we touch the face of God.

Did you find yourself?" "What?" said my sister. "Did you find yourself?" "She found me," I said.

Madame Rosa dit que la vie peut etre très belle mais qu'on ne l'a pas encore vraiment trouvèe et qu'en attendant il faut bien vivre.

She folds the pages of the books she reads when she wants to remember something important. Her favorite books are accordions, testaments to an endless search for meaning.

The story of mankind is the nomadic search for many, many truths along harsh roads bordered with flesh and bones and the apparitions of truths long since eaten by birds; it is looking for truths to fill a grumbling stomach, and spitting them out like pebbles when they have lost their flavor.

So if we assume we are not the only civilisation in the galaxy, then at least a few others must have arisen billions of years ahead of us. But where are they?