Quotes About Pondering

sat, chin on hand, thinking, my eyes on the bright distance. I

How come you're staring at your drink?

From the screen, a huge white face had looked at him, a face with a mouth one wished one could wish to kiss, and eyes that made one wonder—a wonder which was pain—just what it was they were seeing. He felt as if there was something—deep in his brain, behind everything he thought and everything he was—which he did not know, but she knew, and he wished he did, and wondered whether he could ever know it, and should he, if he could, and why he wished

He realized that he was thinking of his past, as if certain days of it were spread before him, demanding to be seen again.

Questions give us no rest.

moment, and began muttering to himself.

Few people think more than two or three times a year," Shaw reportedly said.

Tras los recientes acontecimientos, uno se pregunta si la macroeconomía es la especialidad de algún economista.

The absurdly talented George Bernard Shaw—a world-class writer and a founder of the London School of Economics—noted this thought deficit many years ago. "Few people think more than two or three times a year," Shaw reportedly said. "I have made an international reputation for myself by thinking once or twice a week." We too try to think once.

One gets such wholesale returns of conjecture

It is amazing how much your brain races when you literally have nothing to do.

Ia devagar, como se carregasse um peso dentro de si, ia como que curvado por dentro.

Tata? Mm? Da smo slonovi, bili bismo pet slonova. Da. Blesavo, je l' da? Da ,jeste. Zamisli to! Da. Odli?no Bertolde.Lepo.

Meretzky suggests that you consider the following:

The heavier the burden, the longer they look at you. And Miss Julie looked at me a long, long time.

There is a large, leisurely center to existence where God must be deeply pondered, lovingly believed.

It is not the answer that enlightens, but the question.

When someone casually asks me "How are you doing?", I sometimes find myself hesitating, as if caught in a micro-catatonia. The question is both petty and cosmic at the same time. Then I remember: just say "Fine.

I don't know…." He has been saying this over and over, ending every thought with it. Finally I ask him, "What don't you know?" He pauses. "Lots of things. Your favorite color, for example.

Among mortals second thoughts are wisest.

It is good a philosopher should remind himself, now and then, that he is a particle pontificating on infinity.

I dwell in the past.

My secret demon is called: What's the use?

asking the right questions.