Quotes About Pondering

How many seconds separate Jake or any of us from those burdens of fate? Three? Five? At some point in our lives, the cut may have been that fine. Who can say, and perhaps it is not worth pondering. But we do, don't we? We gnaw on that bone of possibility until our teeth are dull and our skulls throb. There are other life-lines than the one we landed on, and we can taste it.

I wonder," said Crusher slowly, "if the fate of human beings is predetermined by the stars, or do they forge their own destiny? Is there really such a thing as 'luck'? And what exactly do we mean by the concept of 'free will'?" Which were all interesting questions, but perhaps not entirely helpful right at that particular moment.

And he asked himself a last question: From what, and to what, could this infinite whirl be saved?

This is thy hour O Soul, thy free flight into the wordless, Away from books, away from art, the day erased, the lesson     done, Thee fully forth emerging, silent, gazing, pondering the     themes thou lovest best, Night, sleep, death and the stars. — Walt Whitman, "A Clear Midnight," Leaves of Grass. Originally published: July 4, 1855.

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?

I too felt the curious abrupt questionings stir within me, In the day among crowds of people sometimes they came upon me, In my walks home late at night or as I lay in my bed they came upon me.

This is thy hour O Soul, thy free flight into the wordless, Away from books, away from art, the day erased, the lesson done, Thee fully forth emerging, silent, gazing, pondering the themes thou lovest best. Night, sleep, and the stars. ? Walt Whitman, "A Clear Midnight," in the section From Noon to Starry Night in the seventh edition of Leaves of Grass (1881)

Adam sat back and scoured his recent memory.

Sometimes I lie awake at night and I ask, "Is life a multiple choice test or is it a true or false test?" ...Then a voice comes to me out of the dark and says, "We hate to tell you this but life is a thousand word essay.

Dear Sweetheart, do you ever think of me? Just the other day I was thinking of you. I'm pretty sure it was you.

Out of any two thoughts I have, one is devoted to death.

April 13, or a November 2? Living like this

When they were gone, she found her time hung heavy upon her hands...

At the Blarney Stone, an hour had passed since Stephen and Joseph first sat down. A lot had gone down in that time, the least of which was another pitcher of beer. Now they sat, staring dully at each other like a pair of frogs in formaldehyde, wondering how to wrap things up.

...Shall I go on? Or have I said enough?...

It is not easy to walk alone in the country without musing upon something.

Neither I nor the four flippers of the sea-bear of the Boreal ocean have been able to solve the riddle of life.

She glanced over abstractedly, still keeping company with her most recent thought.

One cannot spend forever sitting and solving the mysteries of one's history.

trivial as her hair. This morning she was thinking about how to construct

From time to time, the Baudelaire children looked at one another, but with their future such a mystery they could think of nothing to say.

We get wise by asking questions, and even if these are not answered we get wise, for a well-packed question carries its answer on its back as a snail carries its shell.

Elinor was then at liberty to think and be wretched.

The more is a question mark. It acknowledges the future unknown.