Quotes About Uncertainty

For the few little successes I may seem to have, there are acres of misgivings and self-doubt.

Perhaps, perhaps this would be the one to pull me out of my plunge.

I'm not afraid of being lost. We all wander off from time to time. It's the fear of never quite finding myself that keeps me up at night.

God, how I ricochet between certainties and doubts.

S?rça fanusun içinde ölü bir bebek gibi t?kan?p kalm?? biri için dünyan?n kendisi kötü bir düÅŸtür. Bir gün bir yerde -okulda, Avrupa'da, herhangi bir yerde- o boÄŸucu çarp?tmalar?yla s?rça fanusun yeniden üzerime inmeyeceÄŸini nas?l bilebilirdim?

Doreen is dissolving, Lenny Shepherd is dissolving, Frankie is dissolving, New York is dissolving, they are all dissolving away and none of them matter anymore.I don't know them. I have never known them and I am very pure.

And of course I didn't know who would marry me now that I'd been where I had been. I didn't know at all.

Girl, aging girl, is haunted by own nothingness...

we walk the plank with strangers.

I've been wondering. . . I mean, I thought you might be able to tell me something. Buddy met my eyes and I saw, for the first time, how he had changed. Instead of the old, sure smile that flashed on easily and frequently as a photographer's bulb, his face was grave, even tentative -- the face of a man who often does not get what he wants.

Then plan after plan started leaping through my head, like a family of scatty rabbits. I saw the years of my life spaced along a road in the form of telephone poles, threaded together by wires. I counted one, two, three . . . nineteen telephone poles, and then the wires dangled into space, and try as I would, I couldn't see a single pole beyond the nineteenth.

your fate involves a dark assailant

What do you have in mind after you graduate? I really don't 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.

I'm stupid about executions.

I am terrified by this dark thing that sleeps in me; all day I feel its soft, feathery turnings, its malignity. Clouds pass and disperse. Are those the faces of love, those pale irretrievables? Is it for such I agitate my heart?

I had been inadequate all along, I simply hadn't thought about it. The one thing I was good at was winning scholarships and prizes, and that era was coming to an end. I felt like a racehorse in a world without race-tracks...

Maybe a mouse gets to thinking pretty early on how the whole world is run by these enormous feet. Well, from where I sit, I figure the world is run by one thing and this one thing only. Panic with a dog-face, devil-face, hag-face, whore-face, panic in capital letters with no face at all—it's the same Johnny Panic, awake or asleep.

I looked at the baby in the lap of the woman opposite. I had no idea how old it was, I never did, with babies—for all I knew it could talk a blue streak and had twenty teeth behind its pursed, pink lips.

I am not ready for anything to happen. I should have murdered this, that murders me.

I've been wondering... I mean, I thought you might be able to tell me something. Buddy met my eyes and I saw, for the first time, how he had changed. Instead of the old, sure smile that flashed on easily and frequently as a photographer's bulb, his face was grave, even tentative -- the face of a man who often does not get what he wants. I'll tell you if I can, Buddy. Do you think there's something in me that drives women crazy?

from the tip of every branch, like a fat purple fig, a wonderful future beckoned and winked… but choosing one meant losing all the rest, and, as i sat there, unable to decide, the figs began to wrinkle and go black, and, one by one, they plopped to the ground at my feet.

Always him. Damn, what is the matter with me? Is it because I want somebody to orient myself about that I'm drawn to him, or am I drawn to him because he is exactly the sort of person I want to orient myself about?

What did I think was wrong? That made it sound as if nothing was really wrong, I only thought is was wrong.

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.