Quotes About Question

The presence or absence of a creative super-intelligence is unequivocally a scientific question, even if it is not in practice—or not yet—a decided one.

no philosopher has any trouble using the language of truth when falsely accused of a crime, or when suspecting his wife of adultery. 'Is it true?' feels like a fair question, and few who ask it in their private lives would be satisfied with logic-chopping sophistry in response.

we're all alive the day before we die ... but, how alive is another question.

There is the question of accumulation (...) just the simple adding up and adding on of life. And as the poet pointed out, there is a difference between addition and increase.

He sometimes asked himself a question about life. Which are truer, the happy memories, or the unhappy ones? He decided, eventually, that the question was unanswerable.

The long answer was too time-consuming to give. The short answer was too painful. It went like this. It was a question of what heartbreak is, and how exactly the heart breaks, and what is left of it afterwards.

A facetious if logical question comes into George's mind, from where he cannot tell, unless as a reaction to all this unwonted intensity. If these are indeed the spirits of Englishmen and Englishwomen who have passed over into the next world, surely they would know how to form a proper queue?

There is the question of accumulation, but not in the sense that Adrian meant, just the simple adding up and adding on of life. And as the poet pointed out, there is a difference between addition and increase.

The question of subjective versus objective interpretation, the fact that we need to know the history of the historian in order to understand the version that is being put in front of us.

Logic: yes, where is logic? Where is it, for instance, in the next moment of my story?

If we had the choice, then there would be a question. But we don't, so there isn't. Who can control how much they love? If you can control it, then it isn't love. I don't know what you call it instead, but it isn't love.

And while he was tormenting himself, here was a question he would often arrive at when his mind followed a particular trail of memory. Handing back Susan had been an act of self-protection on his part. There was no doubt about that; and no doubt in his mind that he had to do it. But beyond this, was it an act of courage, or of cowardice? And if he couldn't decide, perhaps the answer was: both.

I don't know what the average allotment of good luck in a life is or should be — it's an unanswerable question, and doubtless there is no 'should' in it anyway — but I do know that she was part of my good luck.

What happens next? she whispered. Connor turned to her and smiled faintly. Always a question, that was Rebecca. There's more? he said in mock wonderment Rebecca dimpled. You know very well there is more. Tell me all about it, he encouraged. In Papa's book— Tell me all about it without mentioning your papa.

The question remains... who takes care of you, Miss Vale? I might ask the same question of you, Lord Dryden.

You wouldn't consider riding me, would you?' he asked politely. 'You've lovely manners, she purred. 'But of course.

What brings you to Eversea House, Moncrieffe? Very polite the question, but strain pitched it nearly an octave higher than Ian's usual voice. His nostrils had flared; white lines made dents on either side of them. Opportunity, Moncrieffe said simply. And smiled the sort of smile that wolves do, when they have their prey neatly cornered.

She surprised him by agreeing. Yes, I was simply curious, and no, I would never criticize you in front of your followers. Do you have the patience to endure one more question, husband? What is it? When do you suppose you'll leave me behind?

Is he all right? Jade asked Sterns. He Swooned I know he swooned, Jade replied.

Do you have feelings for this kind man? You shouldn't ask her such a question, Frances Catherine said. But do you, Gillian?

Okay, I'll ask. How come you're being sued? And how come you're so calm about it?" "I might as well be calm," she said. "Getting all worked up won't do any good.

She nodded. Nick opened the door, but she paused on the threshold. Noah? What's your last name? Clayborne, he answered. Noah Clayborne.

You love me? Who loves you?

If it were a question of excuses and consolation, I would have preferred to melt away like smoke.