Quotes About Uncertainty

I watched him as a sailor watches the wind in fair weather, knowing not every ship reaches haven.

Così era la vita, le cose capitano, e non sempre sono come devono capitare.

Be obedient even when you do not know where obedience may lead you.

Whatever the misery, he could not regain contentment with a world which, once doubted, became absurd.

So much in a revolution is nothing but waiting.

It's like being lost, and coming on an old wagon trail. You don't know where it leads, how long or why it's been abandoned, but at least it's a trail.

What exactly she was thinking I never knew. Perhaps of the crop and the whole day's stoking lost. Perhaps of the stranger who had come with his cornet for a day, and then as meaninglessly gone again. For she had been listening too, and she may have understood. A harvest, however lean, is certain every year; but a cornet at night is golden only once. (Cornet at Night)

As God as my judge, I don't know where I went wrong!

Luck never goes alone, but with risk.

Something unknown is doing we don't know what.

There is no great danger to politics in the desire for certainty at any price.

In Ireland the inevitable never happens and the unexpected constantly occurs.

You cannot predict the outcome of human development. All you can do is like a farmer create the conditions under which it will begin to flourish.

Perplexity is the beginning of a new way.

To believe only possibilities is not faith, but mere Philosophy.

Medicine is a science of uncertainty and an art of probability.

The fictive is an emormous territory it turns out, its boundaries vague, and there is little certainty about where it begins and ends.

Es imposible adivinar el final de una historia mientras la estás viviendo; carece de contornos y se constituye como una serie de palabras y datos incipientes y, para ser sinceros, nunca recuperamos toda la información de aquello que fue.

People imagine that hope has degrees, but I think not. There is hope and there is no hope.

It's a sorry little fact that we are often as mysterious to ourselves as we are to others.

We cannot wish our worlds into being. Much depends on chance, on what we can't control, on others.

But the worst was that as time wore on, I became more and more afraid of myself, or perhaps more conscious of the fear I have always had - a fear that within me is some danger I can't name.

I am afraid of writing, too, because when I write I am always moving toward the unarticulated, the dangerous, the place where the walls don't hold. I don't know what's there, but I'm pulled toward it.

My arguments usually convinced Erica until she felt it again: the tiny sting of possible rejection - always ambiguous, always subject to many interpretations.