Quotes About Doubt

Religion was a riddle to her. Believe this, and only this, because we say so. If you don't you're buying a one-way ticket to everlasting Hell.

A cop did better cynical and suspicious.

How do you suppose they know the sheep are virgins?

Religion was a riddle to her. Believe this, and only this, because we say so. If you don't you're buying a one-way ticket to everlasting Hell. Organized religion baffled her, made her vaguely uncomfortable. Each had followers who were so sure they were right, that their way was the only way. And throughout history they'd fought wars and shed oceans of blood to prove it.

She smiled at him, very sweetly. "What is it about asking you Catholic questions that gets you all jumpy?" "You'd be jumpy, too, if I asked you things that make you feel the hot breath of hell at your back." "You're not going to hell." "Oh, and have you got some inside intel on that?" "You married a cop. You married me. I'm your goddamn salvation.

A lot of people know they're right, when what they are is wrong. Having doubts keeps you human.

A mother protects her child above all. She also has to let her go, but not without being sure her child is prepared and armed and ready. If you couldn't admit to yourself and to me those fears, those doubts, you couldn't be ready. Now I can let you go, even wishing I could stop you

The greatest barrier of success is the fear of failure.

Besides, who is to say that the feelings he writes in his diary are his true feelings? Who is to say that at each moment while the pen moves he is truly himself? At one moment he might truly be himself, at another he might simply be making things up. How can one know for sure? Why should he even want to know for sure?

El dolor es la verdad, todo lo demás está sujeto a duda.

Do I believe in helping people? he wondered. He might help people, he might not help them, he did not know beforehand, anything was possible. He did not seem to have a belief, or did not seem to have a belief regarding help. Perhaps I am the stony ground, he thought.

Ar gali b?ti, kad žmon?s, kurie netiki sielomis, vis tiek jas turi <...>?

Che cosa ci facciamo qui? Era quella, da sempre, la domanda non pronunciata. Lui lo sapeva e lo sapeva anche lei. La sua lettera, per quanto vilmente, aveva almeno accennato a quella domanda: Che ci facciamo in questa sterile parte del mondo? Perché passiamo la vita ammazzandoci così di lavoro se questo posto non era fatto perché ci vivesse la gente, se tutto il progetto di umanizzare questa terra era sbagliato fin dall'inizio?

Pero entonces –porfía el muchacho alto–, si no es verdad que murió, si no es más que una historia, ¿cómo sabemos que hubo una tormenta? ¿Cómo sabemos que la tormenta no es también una historia? –Porque David acaba de decirlo. El carro, el desierto, la tormenta, todo eso lo dice David.

del amor, o al menos del anhelo de sus más urgentes manifestaciones, surgen la frustración, las dudas y la amargura.

Why? Why not?

We start by trusting our reason. But, later, we encounter skeptical arguments against that trust and so we stop trusting reason. But once we do this, we no longer have any reason to accept the skeptical arguments themselves and continue our mistrust of reason. At this point, I begin to trust reason again, but then, the skeptical arguments reassert themselves and so forth. We have entered a vicious dialectical loop that, eventually, will reach a sort of intellectual paralysis.

Fuckin' A... hope didn't so much spring eternal as it drowned out common sense and self-preservation.

Indeed, the human mind appeared to suffer from a crippling need to fabricate in the absence of concrete proof.

No offense-but until I see it, I'm not going to believe it. And that is why you will fail. Adrian cursed and hit the door. Great, you've got him channeling Yoda again. Can we get moving before he levitates my fucking bike?

Man, you cannot be real, the human said softly. Why not? You just can't. She laughed a little. Well, I am. He cleared his throat again. Offered her a lopsided grin. Mind if I ask you to prove it? How? Can I touch your hair?

Oh. Good. The idea that you might only cripple the guy makes me feel a fuck of a lot better about leaving you here.

Tell me this isn't permanent No, you have to give me my weapon back at the end. Har-har, hardy-har-har. I'm talking to Jim. No, it's not, the angel answered from out of Veck's mouth. I can get free as easily as I got in. You sure about that? Nope. Fabulous.

Problems is, the word of an addict is just that. A word. nothing more.