Quotes About Questions

With great effort, I pushed my questions to the side for the time being. We were still fugitives, still undoubtedly pursued. Sydney's car was a brand new Honda CR-V with Louisiana plates and rental sticker. "What the hell? Is this daring escape sponsored by Honda?" - Rose Hathaway

Be patient toward all that is unsolved in your heart and try to love the questions themselves, like locked rooms and like books that are now written in a very foreign tongue [...] Live your questions now, and perhaps even without knowing it, you will live along some distant day into your answers.

You are so young, you have not even begun, and I would like to beg you, dear Sir, as well as I can, to have patience with everything that is unsolved in your heart and to try to cherish the questions themselves, like closed rooms and like books written in a very strange tongue.

Anyone can ask questions," said Mr. Wonka. "It's the answers that count.

When people charge in with great insistence that this is God's word all the while neglecting the very real humanity of these books, they can inadvertently rob these writings of their sacred power. All because of starting in the wrong place. You start with the human. You ask those questions, you enter there, you direct your energies to understanding why these people wrote these books. Because whatever divine you find in it, you find the divine through and in the human, not around it.

Which takes us back to this creation poem, which grounds all creativity in the questions that are asked of all of us: What kind of world are we making? Which always leads to the pressing personal question: What kind of life am I creating?

Curiosity is underrated. In many ways, it's the engine of life. You get these questions, and they don't go away. And so you follow them, you set out to answer them.

And you get answers. And those answers, of course, lead to new questions. And on and on it goes.

Lyndon Johnson knew how to make the most of such enthusiasm and how to play on it and intensify it. He wanted his audience to become involved. He wanted their hands up in the air. And having been a schoolteacher he knew how to get their hands up. He began, in his speeches, to ask questions.

Whereupon people would come barging into his sanctuary, asking stupid questions and making stupid demands . . . and he, Jubal Harshaw, would have to make decisions and take action. Since he was philosophically convinced that all action was futile, the prospect irritated him.

The difference between a great writer and a minor one is fundamentally this: that the minor writer always has answers—glib answers, slick answers, memorably-worded answers, resounding and pretentious answers. The great writer dares to stand before you naked, armed only with his questions.

Ex-Catholic," he said. "Very ex. I don't give a damn for all that misty-mystic blah-blah. I go to the Episcopal church here occasionally, but just for appearances. The atomic theory explains all the philosophical questions I ever wanted to ask.

I also feel strongly, as a libertarian philosopher, that burning Sheldrake's book is not the best way to seek an answer to such questions; and as a psychologist, I think I detect the familiar odor of primate panic behavior in the suggestion that it should be burned.

I looked at the picture, and Tyson looked back. Dave was speaking, but his voice was lost. I thought about Devon. She would have questions I couldn't answer. She would need help I wasn't sure I could give.

The first patrol car arrived in seven minutes; the paramedics three minutes later. Larkin thought it would end that night when the police finished their questions, but her nightmare had only begun. In forty-eight hours, she would meet with agents from the Department of Justice and the U.S. Attorney's. In six days, the first attempt would be made on her life. In eleven days, she would meet a man named Joe Pike. Everything in her world was about to change. And it began that night.

Search for the Elusive And The best at dialogue refuse Fool's Choices by setting up new choices. They present themselves with tougher questions—questions that turn the either/or choice into a search for the all-important and ever-elusive and. (It is an endangered species, you know.) Here's how this works.

She said there was comfort to be found in the permanence of mathematical truths, in the lack of arbitrariness and the absence of ambiguity. In knowing that the answers may be elusive, but they could be found. They were there, waiting, chalk scribbles away. "Nothing like life, in other words," he said. "There, it's questions with either no answers or messy ones.

So it would begin. The obligatory questions, the perfunctory answers. Both pretending. Unenthusiastic partners, the two of them, in this tired old dance.

Nothing like life, it questions with either no answers or messy ones.

It is that too." She said there was comfort to be found in the permanence of mathematical truths, in the lack of arbitrariness and the absence of ambiguity. In knowing that the answers may be elusive, but they could be found. They were there, waiting, chalk scribbles away. "Nothing like life, in other words," he said. "There, it's questions with either no answers or messy ones.

I don't think you can get good answers to questions about—human nature. Better to think of it as a black box. You can't apply the scientific method. Not well enough to be sure of your answers.

Our current economics has not yet answered any of these questions. But why should it? Do you ask your calculator what to do with your life? No. You have to figure that out for yourself.

Life itself is a moment like this, the soul beat down and held to knowledge: you keep on trudging upward, the goal shifts in and out of sight, always further away than you expected, and the work is hard and unremitting. And the questions are the same as always: What are you doing? Is it the right thing? Should you go back? — Nothing up here but the same answers, stripped bare of all complication: Just walk. Keep hiking. That's all you can do. That is your destiny.

She stretched, pulling out her earbuds, which apparently in Lykae was code for 'Interogate me,' because the questions, they came a-calling.