Quotes About Uncertainty

You are as young as your faith, or as old as your dpubt, as young as your self-confidence, as old as your fear, as young as your hope, as old as your despair.

For postmoderns, no knowledge is fully reliable and no concepts are absolutely indispensable.

Vlad blinked, unsure where her question was coming from and, more importantly, where it was going.

Henry dropped his voice to a horrifed, but confused, whisper. "A knife? Or a dagger?" ... Vlad wrinkled his forehead in uncertainty. "What's the difference?"Henry shrugged as if it were obvious. "One's for eating; one's for stabbing.

I don't know whether to punch you or hug you.

i think about those twists of fate, the strange run-ins that can alter everything in the blink of an eye, or the shift of a single season.

modernity is doing something to us at a deeply fundamental level, and the fact that we don't understand it is alarming.

Say it, Christa! Dammit, was I imagining things, or did you say that you loved me?" "I—" She paused. "I said it!" she whispered. "And you meant it?" She lowered her gaze and then her head. "I meant it.

Why, Mrs. Michaelson, just what are you afraid of? Me?

What about Caleb? Shouldn't you wait 'til he

No, no, no, no, he had to be okay. He had to be out there...going for help, she thought. And then she looked at the thing in her hand at last. She held... A horse. A tiny little black plastic horse.

Blind faith isn't always a good thing.

The world is not always ours to understand....

The past is reduced to a slide show. The future is a YouTube video that won't load.

I wasn't sure I wanted to spend forever with anyone, least of all myself.

Thoughtfulness is misread as uncertainty; melancholy is misunderstood as a stubborn refusal to play nicely with others.

Sometimes, she knew, the only difference between poor judgment and a calculated risk was the outcome. In Shar's case, the jury was still out. But she couldn't ignore what he'd learned through his actions.

I had no idea what time I'd left, how I'd gotten home, who'd been up here, and how long he, she, or they had stayed. Another night, added to the hundreds that had gone before, shrouded in mystery. Really, when you thought about it, it was creepy. My own life was a secret to me.

Like the rest of the world, they seemed to have figured out something I didn't know - where they'd come from, where they were going - and moved on.

Giddy's answer did not surprise her, even as it did. Knowing and not knowing.

When you write, you believe in something no one else can see. You spend lots of time committed to a project for which there are no assurances, no guarantees. Being a writer subjects you to the same doubts, the same unpopularity, the same nagging questions that believers struggle with. Writing is communing with the unseen…

Writing a book is exactly like love. You don't hold back. You give it everything you have. If it doesn't work out, you're heartbroken, but you move forward and start again anyway. You have to. You don't hold some of yourself in reserve. It's all or nothing. There are no guarantees.

there is hope in maybe. Maybe. Such a tiny word. Such a powerful word.

But Aunt Anne has encouraged me to continue. In many regards, life itself is a voyage, she says. We never know where its winds and currents will carry us, she says, or what adventures lie ahead, and surely it's worth keeping record of this journey as well.