Quotes About Unreliable

Bad weather friends were as undependable as fair weather friends in a crisis, the relationship in both cases being dictated by conditions of fortune instead of mutual tastes.

But aunties are equivocal figures of affection, wicked and unreliable, pretending love only so long as they are short of love themselves, and then off.

Fishing—precision guesswork based on unreliable data provided by those of questionable knowledge." "I know what fishing is." I took a sip of

Unfortunately, my army consists of one unreliable criminal, one girl with a disability, and one incredibly foolish young vampire with a tanning issue. I am not confident.

memory is a faithless friend

I think the large part of the function of the Internet is it is archival. It's unreliable to the extent that word on the street is unreliable. It's no more unreliable than that. You can find the truth on the street if you work at it. I don't think of the Internet or the virtual as being inherently inferior to the so-called real.

Things of this world all eventually reveal what incapable anchors they really are.

I'm a very loyal and unreliable friend.

He's done more U-turns than a dodgy plumber.

Maybe the schedules hadn't been updated; humans are so fucking unreliable when it comes to maintaining data.

Memory can refuse to let you forget what you'd like to and run away with what you want to remember. It's an unreliable bitch, or your best friend. Sometimes, it's both at once.

Emotions, he was certain, were unreliable and irrelevant to the labor of religious faith.

Trump as the man nearly everyone knew him to be: erratic, unfocused, impetuous, likely not of sound mind.

If you're Black in America doing politics, Republicans have a tendency to be existential enemies. And white Democrats are totally unreliable.

Memory, if it is anything at all, is unreliable.

This is also why Anglo-American achievements cannot be seen in isolation from their ambiguous consequences and victims elsewhere; why many Anglo-American assumptions, derived from a unique and unrepeatable historical experience, are an unreliable guide to today's chaos, especially as it infects Anglo-America.

Memory couldn't be counted on. Time was unreliable and everything dissolved and died—even or especially when it looked like life. Like spring. All around us, the grass grew. Birds made a living racket in the trees. The sun beat down with promise. From that moment forward, Ernest would always hate the spring.