Best 167 quotes in «questioning quotes» category

Good questions are to be appreciated, not answered.

Gradually, I realized that the ideas I had embraced and defended blindly all my life represented a singular, and highly radical, point of view. I began to question everything.

I can just close my eyes and let myself fall into oblivion. Maybe I'll hit the exact same rocks and my blood will mingle with his and maybe there's some kind of life after death and he's waiting for me there with his hand outstretched just like mine. But... I don't want to die. I try to twist my body backwards and pain shoots up my neck. It's too late. I chose life too late.

He was too perplexed to please the conventional and too reverent. to please the infidels.

How can you just be so wrong about something?

If you aren't any religion, how will you know if you should join the Y or the Jewish Community Center?

If I love a dose of (good) theology or philosophy, I probably also love discipline, improvement, wisdom, and challenges. If I hate it, I am probably too comfortable and proud to try to question myself.

If we could only see internal beauty, what would people look like? Who would the supermodels be?

If you're playing at something and having fun, you don't stop to wonder why.

If you start a day with a good question, you’ll get to have an interesting time looking for answers.

If your organization is not formally committed to a policy of nondiscrimination based on sexual orientation, gender identity, and gender expression or gender presentation in its employment practices, you should not expect lesbian, gay, bisexual, transgender, gender-nonconforming, queer, and/or questioning patients and families to feel safe seeking out your services.

I teach what compels us to question our reality

I need to ask, are you afraid of spiders?" Nicholas blinked, suddenly caught off guard, "Yes, I'm afraid of spiders." "Were you always?" "What are you, a psychiatrist?" Pritam took a breath. He could feel Laine's eyes on him, appraising his line of questioning. "Is it possible that the trauma of losing your best friend as a child and the trauma of losing your wife as an adult and the trauma of seeing Laine's husband take his life in front of you just recently..." Pritam shrugged and raised his palms, "You see where I'm going?" Nicholas looked at Laine. She watched back. Her gray eyes missed nothing. "Sure," agreed Nicholas, standing. "And my sister's nuts, too, and we both like imagining that little white dogs are big nasty spiders because our daddy died and we never got enough cuddles." "Your father died?" asked Laine. "When?" "Who cares?" Pritam sighed. "You must see this from our point of - " "I'd love to!" snapped Nicholas. "I'd love to see it from your point of view, because mine is not that much fun! It's insane! It's insane that I see dead people, Pritam! It's insane that this," he flicked out the sardonyx necklace,"stopped me from kidnapping a little girl!" "That's what you believe," Pritam said carefully. "That's what I fucking believe!" Nicholas stabbed his finger through the air at the dead bird talisman lying slack on the coffee table.

I saw something I could never forget. I saw lifetimes of acknowledgement, fear, wisdom, questioning, and understanding in a child's eye. It was the worst thing I would ever witness.

[..] I sensed it was finally safe to ask the question without seeming like an ingrate. God? Where were you? For 107 days where were you? Where were you in my unconsciousness and where were you in that hospital room when I wanted to feel your presence with fireworks and explosions of emotions and supernatural palpability? Where were you, God? [...] I was there, my child, [...] I was the peace, I was the breath, I was the comfort.

I mean talk. Never forget that God is your friend. And like all friends, He longs to hear what's been happening in your life. Good or bad, whether it's been full of sorrow or anger, and even when you're questioning why terrible things have to happen. So I talk with him.

Isso é ruim? Isso é traição? O que é traição? Um e-mail? Ou uma voz? Ou um cheiro? Ou um beijo? Eu gostaria de estar agora com você. De estar abraçado com você. De passar somente uma noite com Emmi. Eu fico de olhos fechados. Eu não preciso saber como você é. Eu só preciso cheirar você e beijar e sentir, bem de perto. Eu estou rindo de felicidade. Isso é traição, Emmi?

Is this where the light faded out forever? Where the cat was finally killed by caught tongue? Where hand no longer wandered over curious texture? Where words no longer moved past lips but died in a quiver?

I sure wasn't going to ask Aunt Sally, because if she told me once that getting your period was like a moth becoming a butterfly, she'd probably say that sexual intercourse was like a deer getting antlers or something.

It is fear that reinforces the walls we build, people are afraid to be swayed from their convictions, afraid to question their moral instincts and expose themselves to ideas that may challenge the fabric of their entire existence, but what are we if we are not seeking to better ourselves?

It is not only the hostility of others that may prevent us from questioning the status quo. Our will to doubt can be just as powerfully sapped by an internal sense that societal conventions must have a sound basis, even if we are not sure exactly what this may be, because they have been adhered to by a great many people for a long time. It seems implausible that our society could be gravely mistaken in its beliefs, and at the same time, that we would be alone in noticing the fact. We stifle our doubts, and follow the flock, because we cannot conceive of ourselves as pioneers of hitherto unknown difficult truths. It is for help in overcoming our meekness that we can turn to the philosopher.

It is not sufficient to know the right answers. One must also know the questions that produced them. Indeed, one must also know what a question is, for not every sentence that ends with a rising intonation or begins with an interrogative is necessarily a question. There are sentences that look like questions but cannot generate any meaningful answers, and, as Francis Bacon said, if they linger in our minds, they become obstructions to clear thinking.

It is really quite impossible to be affirmative about anything which one refuses to question; one is doomed to remain inarticulate about about anything which one hasn’t, by an act of the imagination, made one’s own.

I wasn’t sure what was worse: being oblivious or living within reality. (Eric)

It’s about running wild in a field of exclamation points chasing question marks

It seemed like you had the world at your fingertips, but I guess what I missed was how you bit your lip at every question.

I was not afraid to ask completely stupid questions, and I have kept this habit until now.

What is life for? he asks himself. What is my life for?

It is the questions that matter. When you start getting arrogant, you stop asking questions.

It's a fact—everyone is ignorant in some way or another. Ignorance is our deepest secret. And it is one of the scariest things out there, because those of us who are most ignorant are also the ones who often don't know it or don't want to admit it. Here is a quick test: If you have never changed your mind about some fundamental tenet of your belief, if you have never questioned the basics, and if you have no wish to do so, then you are likely ignorant. Before it is too late, go out there and find someone who, in your opinion, believes, assumes, or considers certain things very strongly and very differently from you, and just have a basic honest conversation. It will do both of you good.

It’s not like you have anything to lose anymore.” My fingers stop at my thumb ring while Sienna’s words echo in my head. Do I have anything to lose? I mean, after all I did, everything I fought against. I slowly turn the ring on my thumb. This simple band has, like all of my rings, one word engraved on it. Will anything change if I go to him? After all, I did lose everything that is important. It’s funny, actually, after the months I spent pushing him away. I thought, like the silly girl I probably am, that if I didn’t give myself to him, I’d be safe, that as long as I didn’t sleep with him, I wouldn’t lose my heart. Shouldn’t I have this one last memory to take home with me? So lost…I came here lost and I’ll go home lost. How convenient, and so utterly pathetic I want to give myself one strong shake to snap out of this.

I've never regretted it. Questioned it? Sure. But never regretted." "Is there a difference?" I ask. "Absolutely. Regret is counterproductive. It's looking back on a past that you can't change. Questioning things as they occur can prevent regret in the future. I questioned a lot about my relationship with your father. People make spontaneous decisions based off of their hearts all the time. There's so much more to relationships than just love.

Mr. Sweet answered, "THE TANK. WE DON'T HAVE ANY VACANCIES. CALL BACK TOMORROW." "WAIT. IT'S MiKEY." "MiKEY?" "YEAH." I ask him if he's seen Tiger. "That sweet delicious young thing you brought in tonight with the nice round booty? Yeah I SAW him. Said that he had NO IDEA where you were." "I'm in my room. Where is he?" "He left. You know that he's Sebastian Wolfe's lover?" "I know. How long ago did he leave?" "Two minutes.. three tops. Did you know-" "No I DIDN'T." I hang up, put my shoes on, and run out the door.

Most of beliefs that are commonly known as scientific facts are based on various theories, which have never been validated. Many of them will never be. Question your beliefs. Choose what promotes love and unity.

Love hates to be cross-examined. Question love, and it runs away.

Mayhap it was not wise to question God's plans; mayhap he had been meant to live, to seek this justice, to serve some purpose. The past was the past. And the future...

Misguided good men are more dangerous than honest bad men. It is because they are seen as good that, in and by good conscience, the mob will always, stubbornly back them without question.

Most students have to do some work to resuscitate their childlike curiosity. The best way to do that is to start asking questions again—lots of them.

My teachers told me: Question everything; take nothing for granted. I question nothing, I take everything for granted.

My mother and father were always pushing me away from secondhand answers—even the answers they themselves believed. I don’t know that I have ever found any satisfactory answers of my own. But every time I ask it, the question is refined. That is the best of what the old heads meant when they spoke of being “politically conscious”—as much a series of actions as a state of being, a constant questioning, questioning as ritual, questioning as exploration rather than the search for certainty.

Questions are for the benefit of every student, not just the one raising his hand.

Of everything we must first ask: is it real or not?

Once you start questioning your beliefs, that's when it's all over. It is truly doubt that kills our conviction.

Only the man who thinks himself a fool is as wise as he thinks.

People often ask themselves the right questions. Where they fail is in answering the questions they ask themselves, and even there they do not fail by much. A single avenue of reasoning followed to its logical conclusion would bring them straight home to the truth. But they stop just short of it, over and over again. When they have only to reach out and grasp the idea that would explain everything, they decide that the search is hopeless. The search is never hopeless. There is no haystack so large that the needle in it cannot be found. But it takes time, it takes humility and a serious reason for searching.

Question everything that is popular, and seek answers in what is not.

Questioning anything within doubt, will just bring mind to no certainty.

Questions to be answered by questions itself when you wanna ignore it in first place. It’s better to be diplomatic rather than Ignorant.

Now, the Wyrm rises To eclipse the Moon Devouring all within its grasp, Hunting the hunters. There is no garden to which we can flee. There is nowhere to hide. The end is upon us. — When will you rage?

One can only return to the fact that even the most ordinary, good-hearted, intelligent people are literally prone to believing the most blatantly nonsensical untruths. And this comes from the realization that there are some opinions and some beliefs so incredibly inane, we may actually on occasion feel insane for not believing them; and that is probably because in giving the benefit of the doubt we self-doubt, we convince ourselves into lame passivity and blind acceptance, we tell ourselves, 'Maybe I'm just missing something here.