Quotes About Pondering

If you've never stared off into the distance, then your life is a shame.

At night when I'm lying awake because my brain won't shut off due to all there is to think about.

I'm always wondering about the what-ifs, about the road not taking.

What would that have felt like, to have a boy do something like that for me? In the whole history of my letters, of my liking boys, not once has a boy liked me back at the same time as I liked him. It was always me alone, longing after a boy, and that was fine, that was safe. But this is new. Or old. Old and new, because it's the first time I'm hearing it.

I'm always wondering about the what-ifs, about the road not taken.

What's to be sad about?" I'm about to deny being sad, but then I just sigh and say, "I don't know." Kitty grabs a handful of popcorn and drops a few kernels on the floor, which Jamie gobbles up. "How can you not know?" "Because sometimes you just feel sad and you can't explain it.

This is our life; there's no use in asking what if. No one could ever give you the answers. I try, I really do, but it's hard for me to accept this way of thinking. I'm always wondering about the what-ifs, about the road not taken.

How about this motherfucking darkness?

She thinks before she acts. Or more properly, she thinks instead of acts. A character flaw, not a virtue.

Pero, ¿Escribir sobre qué? buena pregunta.

I wish I did not think about it so much, he thought.

You're remembering well today,' she said. 'Don't do it too much.

THE GAMBLER,THE NUN & THE RADIO He was thinking well, a little too well

So we sat and thought deeply for awhile.

Had we but World enough, and Time, This coyness Lady were no crime. We would sit down, and think which way To walk, and pass our long Loves Day.

But when I set it back down she's still staring up—almost as if she's looking to God for

In my solitude I have pondered much on the incomprehensible subjects of space, eternity, life and death. —Alfred Russel Wallace Faking my own death is

Andrew Roberts

There is more learning in the question itself than the answer.

I fall to the toilette of my hinder parts, my favourite stance when contemplating the ways of the world.

So he just sits here staring into his beer.

It seems to me that the problem with diaries, and the reason that most of them are so boring, is that every day we vacillate between examining our hangnails and speculating on cosmic order.

The 'free-floating intellectual' may occupy himself with problems because of their inherent interest and importance, perhaps to little effect.

Words will not fail when the matter is well considered.