Quotes About Question

Any community's arm of force - military, police, security - needs people in it who can do neccesary evil, and yet not be made evil by it. To do only the necessary and no more. To constantly question the assumptions, to stop the slide into atrocity.

When you actually know the question, the answer is every­where, and you can see it in anything you observe.

For me, love is the never-ending question. It is confusing. It is the answer, but it is also inundated with contradictions and complications.

Little black horse. Where are you taking your dead rider?

Here we are and there we go:---but where?

Who's that fool yonder about to die?" asked Roy as the men were being escorted to the jail. They both turned and saw

Isana laughed. And you, lady? Are you a woman of conscience or of ambition? The lady smiled. That's a question rarely asked here at court. And why is that? Because a woman of conscience would tell you that she is a person of conscience. A woman of ambition would tell you that she is a person of conscience—only much more convincingly.

Answer my question, Dresden,' Nicodemus growled. 'What is that?' 'A precaution against getting stuck in deep snow,' I said. 'He's training to be a Saint Bernard.' 'Excuse me?' Nicodemus said. I mimed covering one of Mouse's ears with my hand and stage-whispered, 'Don't tell him that they don't actually carry kegs of booze on their collars. Break his little heart.

She studied my face for a long minute. Are you going to help my mom? It was a simple question. But how do you tell a child that things just aren't that simple, that some questions don't have simple answers--or any answer at all?

Who," said the man, his accent thick and British, "are you?" "The Great Pumpkin," I responded. "I've risen from the pumpkin patch a bit early because Butters is just that nifty. And you are?

Ah," Bridget said, flushing slightly. As the glib-tongued lout in question, she was currently on the receiving end of this facet of the habble's law. "I'm not sure everyone would agree with you. We're a civilized society, are we not?" Esterbrook blinked. "Since when, miss? We're a democracy.

Ma'am, the way this usually works is that I ask you a question, and then you tell me a lie. If you give me a dishonest answer before I have the chance to ask the question, it offends my sense of propriety." Her

Do you want to be my dad?

You know. I never really thought to ask before—but what is that dust made of?" "Depleted uranium," I told him. "At least, that's the base ingredient. I had to add in a lot of other things. Cold iron, basil, dung from a—" "Never mind," he said. "I don't want to know.

Now hear me, brother," I said gently. "Cease your attempts to harm my humans. Depart this city. Do not come back." "Or else?" he asked. "There is nothing else," I replied calmly. "You will do these things. The only question is whether you will do them of your own will or if I must teach you how.

Okay," Kincaid said. "Anyone have any questions?" "Why do they sell hot dogs in packages of ten but hot dog buns in packages of eight?" I said. Everyone glared at me.

How could all this happen when there was an ocean?

But then that's an appropriate response to death?' I interrupted. 'There isn't a singular response. You keep on truckin', as that cartoonist Crumb said. You're probably having a thousand responses a day because your brain simply can't stop trying to comprehend what has happened to you. It's the largest question mark we deal with in life and no responses will make it go away. We envy the devout who experience the pain but have a surefire explanation.

A few weeks ago, passing through my grocer's, I bought a packet of dehydrated French's pork gravy. The label noted that this gravy was award-winning. Since I have never won an award, who am I to question this gravy?

Birthdays are [soul chasers,] ghost bounty hunters that track you down to ask [the usual question[, "Qué pasa, baby?" (The Raw and the Cooked)

Birthdays are [soul chasers,] ghost bounty hunters that track you down to ask [the usual question], "Qué pasa, baby?

see the question now as the equivalent of a cry of helpless rage, another way of saying How could this have happened when everything was normal.

When Tracy was three she looked up at her aunt and asked, Why don't we have dessert for breakfast?

I know you love me. The question is, how much?