Quotes About Skepticism

The people who are suspicious of certain things are the very ones who are the most capable of doing that of which they are suspicious.

It's so sad: anything that has to do with God, people want to dispel.

Laura was not in any way religious. She was not even religious enough to speculate towards irreligion.

She felt that these clean-shaven men with bristling eyebrows were suavely concealing their doubts of her intelligence and her probity. Their jaws were like so many mouse-traps, baited with commonplaces.

The improver of natural knowledge absolutely refuses to acknowledge authority, as such. For him, skepticism is the highest of duties, blind faith the one unpardonable sin.

Let us begin by turning the skeptic's question on its head. If you could believe in God, why wouldn't you? There is good evidence that those who believe in a loving God have happier lives. Loneliness is bad for people in many different ways—it diminishes immune function, increases blood pressure, and depresses cognitive function—and we know that people who believe in God are less lonely.

Skepticism is fine, but don't pass by a once in a lifetime opportunity to uncover a treasure because of it.

Non-belief and skepticism go hand and hand; always seeking, but never finding the truth.

When men are full of envy they disparage everything, whether it be good or bad.

Czy ja wygl?dam na zamachowca? -Niech pan spyta swojej ?ony.

Never like anybody you can't trust, Cruz said. You might think you're a smart boy, you can like somebody and still keep your eyes open. But there's something about liking that dismays your attention, I don't know what it is. You allow yourself to like somebody you don't trust, and one night soon enough, you'll wake up to find an ax cleaved in the back of your skull, and you'll have your own foolish liking to thank for it.

There was something about this girl's body language, the way she kept darting a look at Leanne, then turning her eyes quickly away, that made her think maybe she was telling the truth. In Leanne's experience, if people were lying, they tended either to look away the whole time or to fix you with intense eye contact as if daring you to disbelieve them.

Reminded myself: the ones you don't like are a bonus. They can't fool you as easy as the ones you do.

Privately, I consider religion to be a load of bollocks, but when you have a sobbing five year old wanting to know what happened to her hamster, you develop an instant belief in anything that dissolves some of the heartbreak off her face.

I didn't believe her, of course. The lie was transparent—it something that size, someone would have mentioned it during the door-to-door--and it went straight to my heart as no sonata ever could have; because I recognized it. That's my twin brother, his name's Peter, he's seven minutes older than me. . . . Children—it and Rosalind was little more—it don't tell pointless lies unless the reality is too much to bear.

It meant nothing. Some people are like that: everything comes out like a lie. Not that they're brilliant liars, just that they're useless at telling the truth. You get left with no way to tell what's the real fake and what's the fake one.

I guess if you're not the trusting type, drugs probably aren't for you.

maybe everyone will start believing me about the mysterious

Homicidal satanic cults are the detective's version of yetis: no one has ever seen one and there is no proof that they exist, but one big blurry fingerprint and the media turn into a gibbering, foaming pack, so we have to act as though we take the idea at least semi-seriously.

Cal reached the point a long time ago where those words make him tired for all of humanity. All the innocents say that, and believe it to the bone, right up until the moment when they can't any more. My husband would never do that to our children, my baby ain't no thief. Cal feels like he ought to stand on a street corner handing out warnings, little pieces of paper that just say: Anyone could do anything.

She would walk toward him, sniffing the air around him, like a hound. He smelled of alcohol—not

I don't like happy people," Andrew said. "They're already happy; they don't need to be liked.

I've been an atheist since I was nine years old. And my mom is really religious, so we have a strange relationship. But if my mother was right, what would be the reason that the gods could let anything bad happen in the world?

He no longer believed in ideals and stuff. He wished that he could kick out the beliefs he had held so dear all his life. Why should he bear the burden of these principles when all most people do is only touch their lips to the cup of wisdom but not take it into their hearts and minds? Why should he bother with being the only believer?