Quotes about Uncertainty

I'm glad and I'm sorry. I'm always sorry when pleasant things end. Something still more pleasant may come after, but you can never be sure. And it's so often the case that it isn't more pleasant.

My future seemed to stretch out before me like a straight road. I thought I could see along it for many a milestone. Now there is a bend in it. I don't know what lies around the bend, but I'm going to believe that the best does.

Well now, I dunno

wounded prisoners. I wish I could hope, Miss Oliver—it would help, I suppose. But hope seems dead in me. I can't hope without some reason for it—and there is no reason. When Miss Oliver had gone to her own room and Rilla was lying on her bed in the moonlight, praying desperately for a little strength, Susan stepped in like a gaunt shadow and sat down beside her. Rilla, dear, do not you worry. Little Jem is not dead. Oh, how can you believe

It is never quite safe to think we have done with life.

nothing to hinder me. But that brief dream is over. I am resigned to my fate now, so I don't think I'll go out for fear I'll get unresigned again.

Because I simply couldn't make up my mind to do it. I never can make up my mind about anything myself—I'm always afflicted with indecision. Just as soon as I decide to do something I feel in my bones that another course would be the correct one. It's a dreadful misfortune, but I was born that way, and there is no use in blaming me for it, as some people do.

And life (or God) seems to reply, "Get ready! The other shoe is going to drop. When? I want to surprise you.

When you can't figure Me out, you will give up the illusion of predictability and control and discover the joy and freedom of hope.

So that whether the pain of a wound in the groin (cæteris paribus) is greater than the pain of a wound in the knee—or Whether the pain of a wound in the knee is not greater than the pain of a wound in the groin—are points which to this day remain unsettled.

Do you understand the theory of that affair? replied my father.   Not I, quoth my uncle.   Ãƒ¢Ã¢'¬Ã¢â‚¬But you have some ideas, said my father, of what you talk about.—   No more than my horse, replied my uncle Toby.

I hope the dogs don't bark tonight. I always think it's mine