Quotes About Pondering

Every time Roscoe tried to think back along the line of events that had led to his being in a place where there was no trees to lean against, he strayed off the line and soon got all tangled up in his thinking. It was probably better not to try and think back down the line of life.

Since sport was what he had been brooding

who is the love of my life? Maybe I don't have one. Maybe it's not love at all. But if it's not love, then what is it? I wish I knew.

Is it a whale? I wonder. Or a shark? I shrug. These are the kind of questions you find yourself pondering when you're at a fantastic party, all your girlfriends have been snapped up on sight, and you're busy propping up the drinks table with your bum because no one wants to talk to you.

My thoughts amuse me.

You can think a thing over many times and still have no idea how you'll answer the question, if ever it's asked.

Is That All There Is?

There is no knowledge and science like pondering and thought; and there is no prosperity and advancement like knowledge and science.

I heard what was said of the universe, heard it and heard it of several thousand years; it is middling well as far as it goes - but is that all?

That's Third Thoughts for you. When a huge rock is going to land on your head, they're the thoughts that think: Is that an igneous rock, such as granite, or is it sandstone?

Well, said Pooh, what I like best, and then he had to stop and think. Because although Eating Honey was a very good thing to do, there was a moment just before you began to eat it which was better than when you were, but he didn't know what it was called.

I have a life that did not become, that turned aside and stopped, astonished: I hold it in me like a pregnancy or as on my lap a child not to grow or grow old but dwell on

He who wishes to ponder what is beyond the Bible must first learn to be sensitive to what is within the Bible.

She revived the extraordinary Anglo-Saxon word dustsceawung, meaning 'the fascination experienced by someone looking at a ruin, a kind of daydream of dust, pondering that which has been lost: dust-seeing, dust-chewing, dust-cheering. The daydream of a mind strung between past and present.

I watched as she added a question mark at the end. Arc, line, space, dot.

n'allez pas trop vite.

Why was he here? Why was he always, always, always around? Didn't he have a life? Didn't he have anything better to do?

Laying in bed this morning contemplating how amazing it would be if somehow Oscar Wilde and Mae West could twitter from the grave.

Then why were you

All life long, the same questions, the same answers.

The most important questions of life are indeed, for the most part, really only problems of probability.

In my solitude I have pondered much on the incomprehensible subjects of space, eternity, life and death.

Life consists of burning up questions.

The real question is whether all your pondering and analyses will convince you that life is worth living. That's what it all comes down to.