Quotes About Doubt

The worm is not to be trusted...

She speaks much of her father; says she hears There's tricks i' the world; and hems, and beats her heart; Spurns enviously at straws; speaks things in doubt, That carry but half sense. (Ophelia)

My father's spirit in arms! all is not well; I doubt some foul play: would the night were come! Till then sit still, my soul: foul deeds will rise, Though all the earth o'erwhelm them, to men's eyes.

When my love swears that she is made of truth, I do believe her, though I know she lies

The more my prayer, the lesser is my grace.

Do you know me, my lord?' Excellent well. You are a fishmonger.

When our actions do not, our fears do make us traitors

Sir, this young fellow's mother could: whereupon she grew round-wombed, and had, indeed, sir, a son for her cradle ere she had a husband for her bed. Do you smell a fault?

That you do love me, I am nothing jealous.

If it prove She's otherwise, I'll keep my stables where I lodge my wife; I'll go in couples with her; Than when I feel and see her no further trust her; For every inch of woman in the world, Ay, every dram of woman's flesh, is false, If she be.

But in the beaten way of friendship what make you at Elsinore?

What man art thou that thus bescreen'd in night so stumblest on my counsel?

Tis like she comes to speak of Cassio's death, The noise was high. Ha! No more moving? Still as the grave. Shall she come in? Were 't good? I think she stirs again—No. What's best to do? If she come in, she'll sure speak to my wife— My wife! my wife! what wife? I have no wife. Oh, insupportable! Oh, heavy hour! Methinks it should be now a huge eclipse Of sun and moon, and that th' affrighted globe Should yawn at alteration.

Thus conscience does make cowards of us all...

Faith, I have heard too much; for your words and performances are no kin together.

Whether you believe or disbelieve, it is a wicked thing to take away Man's hope.

And what of this young woman beside him, whom he had loved devotedly for four years and still did love? She had given him more than Elizabeth ever could: months of unflawed relationship, unquestioning trust (which he was now betraying in thought) . Oh nonsense! What man did not at some time or another glance elsewhere? And who could complain if it remained at a glance? (Chance was a fine thing).

Avrebbe voluto pregare per qualcosa che di sicuro il Dio della vedova Chegwidden avrebbe disapprovato.

Having a husband, it seems to me, is a small matter like going to church. Either you trust in something or you do not. If you do not, then there's no benefit in going to church at all, is there? But if you do believe in him, then you've no excuse to be asking for proofs all the time.

Their love was not in question. What was in question was what they would make of it.

combined to break his reserve; before he knew it, he had joined in a discussion, one of those half cynical, half serious discussions which are characteristic of an age which inquires because it doubts, and doubts the more because it has inquired.

I am also at this point accustomed to reaffirm with emphasis my conviction that the sun is real, and also that it is hot--in fact as hot as Hell, and if the metaphysicians doubt it they should go there and see.

I have shouted to God and the Virgin, but they have not shouted back and I'm not interested in the still small voice. Surely a god can meet passion with passion?

Here I am, Cassandra. And this is my city under ashes. And these are my prophet's staff and ribbons. And this is my head full of doubts.