Quotes About Uncertainty

It's become important so quickly. Maybe too quickly. I keep thinking it's too good to be true.

You're afraid of me, I can see it on your face. I'm afraid of me. Afraid of sleeping with you and doing something that will destroy us both.

I dropped my pencil onto the notepad I'd been scribbling in, then sat back on the couch and curled my legs onto the cushion. It was rolling past nine o'clock and I hadn't heard from Gideon yet. I didn't know if that was a good or bad sign, considering he'd had an appointment with Dr. Petersen earlier.

I am still so naïve; I know pretty much what I like and dislike; but please, don't ask me who I am. A passionate, fragmentary girl, maybe?

And the danger is that in this move toward new horizons and far directions, that I may lose what I have now, and not find anything except loneliness.

The trouble about jumping was that if you didn't pick the right number of storeys, you might still be alive when you hit bottom.

I know pretty much what I like and dislike; but please, don't ask me who I am.

But I wasn't sure. I wasn't sure at all. How did I know that someday?at college, in Europe, somewhere, anywhere?the bell jar, with its stifling distortions, wouldn't descend again?

I felt myself melting into the shadows like the negative of a person I'd never seen before in my life.

I saw the days of the year stretching ahead like a series of bright, white boxes, and separating one box from another was sleep, like a black shade. Only for me, the long perspective of shades that set off one box from the next day had suddenly snapped up, and I could see day after day after day glaring ahead of me like a white, broad, infinitely desolate avenue.

I think I am mad sometimes.

When they asked me what I wanted to be I said I didn't know.

What do you have in mind after you graduate? What I always thought I had in mind was getting some big scholarship to graduate school or a grant to study all over Europe, and then I thought I'd be a professor and write books of poems or write books of poems and be an editor of some sort. Usually I had these plans on the tip of my tongue. I don't really know, I heard myself say. I felt a deep shock, hearing myself say that, because the minute I said it, I knew it was true.

God, who am I?

I don't know how long I kept at it... I felt reasonably safe, streched out on the floor, and lay quite still. It didn't seem to be summer any more

I wish I knew what to do with my life, what to do with my heart…I do nothing all day, boredom settles in, I look at the sky so I get to feel even smaller than I already feel and my mind keeps poisoning itself uselessly.

I opened the door and blinked out into the bright hall. I had the impression it wasn't night and it wasn't day, but some lurid third interval that had suddenly slipped between them and would never end.

I waited, as if the sea could make my decision for me.

If only I knew what I wanted I could try to see about getting it.

Only I wasn't steering anything, not even myself.

I had hoped, at my departure, I would feel sure and knowledgeable about everything that lay ahead -- after all, I had been analyzed. Instead, all I could see were question marks.

What is my life for and what am I going to do with it? I don't know and I'm afraid.

I self-paralyze myself & wonder what I've got in my head.

I wondered what I thought I was burying.