Quotes About Question

On that question Henry kept his opinion to himself. It was all speculation anyway. People were going to do what they were going to do. After a certain age he'd ceased to believe he might influence their lives.

Faith will always save you. It's a question, really, and you think the answer could make a good sermon. When won't faith save you? When you believe too much in this world. In yourself. In anything but God.

It had felt liberating to acknowledge this to himself and others, to shed his painful sense of the obligation to be somehow remarkable; but it left him with the unanswered question of what to do with his life, and simultaneously the realization that working on the novel endlessly had been a way to avoid facing that question.

When is the impulse to help an adult child a wise intervention and when is it self-serving and prying? I have an uneasy feeling I will have to carry the question around for a while like some grating pebble in my shoe.

Ana, I don't doubt you should give yourself to motherhood. I only question what it is you're meant to mother. For two days and nights I pondered her words, so vast and inscrutable. For a woman to birth something other than children and then mother it with the same sense of purpose, attention, and care came as an astonishment, even to me.

Yet from that first moment of inspiration to write this story, I felt the importance of imagining a married Jesus. Doing so provokes a fascinating question: How would the Western world be different if Jesus had married and his wife had been included in his story?

But seeing such truth can be dangerous. Philosopher Mary Daly reminds us, "It isn't prudent for women to see all of this. Seeing means that everything changes: the old identifications and the old securities are gone."21 The question, she says, is whether women can forgo prudence in favor of courage. That was the question that followed me as I made my way into the new year.

However, this translation is, in the words of Dr. Giles, excessively bad. He goes further in this criticism: It is not merely a question of downright blunders, from which none can hope to be wholly exempt.

Is there an antidote to the perennial seductiveness of war? And is this a question a woman is more likely to pose than a man? (Probably yes.)

A work of art encountered as a work of art is an experience, not a statement or an answer to a question. Art is not only about something; it is something. A work of art is a thing _in_ the world, not just a text or commentary _on_ the world.

Concerning the death of Gertrude Stein: she came out of a deep coma to ask her companion Alice Toklas, 'Alice, Alice, what is the answer?' Her companion replied, 'There is no answer.' Gertrude Stein continued, 'Well, then, what is the question?' and fell back dead.

A sudden bold and unexpected question doth many times surprise a man and lay him open. —Sir Francis Bacon, 1561-1626

Wheres the damn food at

Foreword I. Biographical Notes II. Evil and Redemption III. The Question of Baptism IV. Faith and Philosophy

Have I ever told you, you look like Monty Clift? he inquired in a deep, seductive voice. Before or after the accident?

The question is not whether we are apologists, but what kind of apologists we are.

This was a simple exchange, labor for cash. It had nothing to do with gestures of kindness, or if you knew the other guy's name or not, or what mans' ultimate purpose on earth might be. What the market would bear--that was the only relevant question. (from the short story 'A Fair Price')

It's not a silly question if you can't answer it.

And whom do I call my enemy? An enemy must be worthy of engagement. I turn in the direction of the sun and keep walking. It's the heart that asks the question, not my furious mind. The heart is the smaller cousin of the sun. It sees and knows everything. It hears the gnashing even as it hears the blessing. The door to the mind should only open from the heart. An enemy who gets in, risks the danger of becoming a friend.

You must stop worrying about why things happen and wonder what they mean when they do.

Is it a time for you, you I say, to dwell in your roofed-in houses?' (Haggai 1:4). The reply might have been that it was unreasonable to expect anyone to live in a roofless house, but the question made its point. What worth did they set on their God, when they left His Temple in ruins?

Una navaja en el cuello. ¿La literatura o la vida?, preguntó el ladrón. Desde entonces no he vuelto a escribir nada. Supongo que estoy muerto.

Dime, chico... ¿Has bailado con el demonio a la pálida luz de la luna? JACK NAPIER

Why did the chicken cross the road?