Quotes About Uncertainty

Writing is like driving at night in the fog. You can only see as far as your headlights, but you can make the whole trip that way.

Writing is like driving a car at night. You can only see as far as your headlights, but you can make the whole trip that way.

Sometimes we even have to risk making fools of ourselves.

We dread the future only when we are not sure we can kill ourselves when we want to.

Why fear the nothing that is in store for us when it is no different from the nothing that preceded us?

Life never gives us what we want at the moment that we consider appropriate. Adventures do occur, but not punctually.

Nothing's the same for anyone. That's why life's this Hell, if you do a thing you're damned, and if you don't you're damned . . . .

We move between two darknesses.

You care for me a little bit, I do think," he admitted, "but I can't hang all my life on a little bit. You don't. You hang yours on Anne. You don't worry whether your relation with her is platonic or not, you only know it's big enough to hang a life on.

It is impossible to foretell the future with any degree of accuracy, that it is impossible to rehearse life. A fault in the scenery, a face in the audience, an interruption of the audience on to the stage, and all our carefully planned gesture mean nothing, or mean too much.

Every little trifle, for some reason, does seem incalculably important today, and when you say of a thing that 'nothing hangs on it,' it sounds like blasphemy. There's never any knowing—(how am I to put it?)—which of our actions, which of our idlenesses won't have things hanging on it for ever.

One is certain of nothing but the truth of one's own emotions.

They were his last words, because Maurice had disappeared thereabouts, leaving no trace of his presence except a little pile of the petals of the evening primrose, which mourned from the ground like an expiring fire. To the end of his life Clive was not sure of the exact moment of departure, and with the approach of old age he grew uncertain whether the moment had yet occurred.

Straight?" He trembled as he asked this supreme question. "Scudder? A little too smart to be straight.

You care for me a little bit, I do think, but I can't hang all my life on a little bit.

Indoors herself, partaking of tea with old Mrs Butterworth, she reflected that it is impossible to foretell the future with any degree of accuracy, that it is impossible to rehearse life. A fault in the scenery, a face in the audience, an irruption of the audience onto the stage, and all our carefully planned gestures mean nothing, or mean too much.

It was the hour of unreality—the hour, that is, when unfamiliar things are real.

Nothing's the same for anyone. That's why life's this Hell, if you do a thing you're damned, and if you don't you're damned—

Actual life is full of false clues and sign-posts that lead nowhere.

One is certain of nothing but the truth of one's own emotions.

I seem fated to pass through the world without colliding with it or moving it—and I'm sure I can't tell you whether the fate's good or evil.

Did he at all know where he wanted to live? Tibby didn't know that he did know. Did he at all know what he wanted to do? He was equally uncertain, but when pressed remarked that he should prefer to be quite free of any profession.

Life is a mysterious business.

she reflected that it is impossible to foretell the future with any degree of accuracy, that it is impossible to rehearse life. A fault in the scenery, a face in the audience, an irruption of the audience on to the stage, and all our carefully planned gestures mean nothing, or mean too much.