Quotes About Uncertainty

Most days it's just stumbling around in the dark with the rest of creation, smashing into things and wondering why it hurts.

Silver manned the com; and Leo—held down the post of chief engineer, he supposed. The chain of command became rather blurred at this point. Perhaps his title ought to be Official Ship's Worrier.

Suddenly what to do with the rest of my life and what shirt to wear became equally daunting decisions.

How will I know if I really even like Drew Ellis? I'm so eager for intimacy, I would date a tree.

Hell, he'd (Nathan/Noah) been around Tehya and his uncle enough to know that Jordan was determined to fight whatever he was feeling for Tehya. He'd been feeling it for six damned years now or more, and still, Jordan didn't dare mention the L word. If he acknowledged it, then he might have to admit it actually existed.

Why do you believe he calls you a 'whelp,' young man? Could it be because you're so like him that he's not certain whether to feel pride or to shoot you and put the world out of its misery?

I do not know who the two old men were or what any of them were doing, but there are moments when it is clearly time to go, and I left them there and then.

No. No Jeremiah Thompson. No great-uncles of any variety. No grandmother in Texas who left me an inheritance. There's probably a Texas, but if this guy is saying it, I wouldn't be too sure of even that." "I

The challenge of wonder is to tolerate uncertainty. If you do not relax into uncertainty, wonder may start to seem like insecurity.

There were moments bristling with deadness, when she looked out at her life and went, What? Or worse, feeling interrupted and tired, Wha—?

Wake up one morning with a man you had thought you'd spend your life with, and realize, a rock in your gut, that you don't even like him. Spend a weepy afternoon in his bathroom, not coming out when he knocks. You can no longer trust your affections. People and places you think you love may be people and places you hate.

Love is a fever, she said. And when you come out of it you'll discover whether you've been lucky - or not.

I wondered about the half-life of regret.

Living did not mean one joy piled upon another. It was merely the hope for less pain, hope played like a playing card upon another hope, a wish for kindnesses and mercies to emerge like kings and queens in an unexpected change of the game. One could hold the cards oneself or not: they would land the same regardless.

This was love, I supposed, and eventually I would come to know it. Someday it would choose me and I would come to know its spell, for long stretches and short, two times, maybe three, and then quite probably it would choose me never again.

Things, however, rarely happened the way you understood them. Mostly they just sort of drove up alongside what you thought was the case and then moved randomly down some other way.

I said nothing. If she wasn't careful, everyone would rush out of her life, life out of a burning building.

In general, people were not road maps. People were not hieroglyphs or books. They were not stories. A person was a collection of accidents. A person was an infinite pile of rocks with things growing underneath.

His eyes were caught in the headlights of something - foreign policy?

The thought balloon of my own breath said, How have I found myself here?

Biri sizden ayr?ld???nda tüm çekiciliÄŸinizi kaybedersiniz ve kar?? taraf?n yeni bir baÅŸlang?ç yaparken size dair beslediÄŸi tüm kuÅŸkular böylece kan?tlanm?? olur.

I tried to live cautiously - or eventually learned to try to live - in a spirit of regret prevention, and I could not see how Bonnie could accomplish such a thing in this situation. Regret - operatic, oceanic, fathomless - seemed to stretch before her in every direction. No matter which path she took, regret would stain her feet and scratch her arms and rain down on her, lightlessly and lifelong. It had already begun.

Imagine a wife and a mistress sharing the same toothbrush forever and ever, never knowing.

It's bad enough when they refer to medical science as 'an inexact science,' says the Mother. But when they start referring to it as 'an art,' I get extremely nervous.