Quotes About Uncertainty

Andy Devine had a thong rind It was sublime but the wrong kind Have I aligned with a blown mind? Wasted my time on a drawn blind?

I do not speak as I think, I do not think as I should, and so it all goes on in helpless darkness.

First impressions are always unreliable.

Believing in progress does not mean believing that any progress has yet been made.

What's happened to me,' he thought. It was no dream.

My condition is not unhappiness, but it is also not happiness, not indifference, not weakness, not fatigue, not another interest – so what is it then?

And don't demand any sincerity from me, Milena. No one can demand it from me more than I myself and yet many things elude me, I'm sure, perhaps everything eludes me.

If you become involved with me, you will be throwing yourself into the abyss.

There is a destination but no way there; what we refer to as way is hesitation.

My doubts stand in a circle around every word, I see them before I see the word, but what then! I do not see the word at all, I invent it.

Faith, like a guillotine. As heavy, as light.

But what if all the tranquility, all the comfort, all the contentment were now to come to a horrifying end?

My grandfather used to say: Life is astoundingly short. To me, looking back over it, life seems so foreshortened that I scarcely understand, for instance, how a young man can decide to ride over to the next village without being afraid that -not to mention accidents- even the span of a normal happy life may fall far short of the time needed for such a journey.

Test yourself on mankind. It is something that makes the doubter doubt, the believer believe.

But questions that don't answer themselves at the very moment of their asking are never answered.

Man cannot live without a permanent trust in something indestructible in himself, and at the same time that indestructible something as well as his trust in it may remain permanently concealed from him.

Since there was nothing at all I was certain of, since I needed to be provided at every instant with a new confirmation of my existence, since nothing was in my very own, undoubted, sole possession, determined unequivocally only by me — in sober truth a disinherited son — naturally I became unsure even of the thing nearest to me, my own body.

What am I doing in this eternal winter?

and in that recurring dream, I found myself trapped in some sort of gigantic game of which I was unfamiliar with the rules; lost in a labyrinthine town of dark and damp, criss-crossing streets, ambiguous characters of uncertain authority having no idea of why I was there nor what I had to do, and where the first sign of the beginning of understanding was the wish to die.

If you come to me you will be leaping into the abyss.

In that case, I'll miss the thing by waiting for it.

Es gibt unendlich viel Hoffnung, nur nicht für uns.

The longer one hesitates before the door, the more estranged one becomes.

During last night's insomnia, as these thoughts came and went between my aching temples, I realised once again, what I had almost forgotten in this recent period of relative calm, that I tread a terribly tenuous, indeed almost non-existent soil spread over a pit full of shadows, whence the powers of darkness emerge at will to destroy my life…