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Read through the most famous quotes by topic #doubt
...wanting soul life without the dark, warming intelligence of personal doubt is like expecting an egg without the brooding heat of the mother hen. ↗
Defeat is for the valiant. Only they will know the honour of losing and the joy of winning I am not here to tell you that defeat is a part of life: we all know that. Only the defeated know Love. Because it is in the realm of love that we fight our first battles – and generally lose. I am here to tell you that there are people who have never been defeated. They are the ones who never fought. They managed to avoid scars, humiliations, feelings of helplessness, as well as those moments when even warriors doubt the existence of God.’’ Manuscript Found In Accra – Paulo Coelho ↗
#defeat #denial #doubt #god #helplessness
If I'd been a cowboy, it might've ended well. Somewhere on the ramble, I'm sure I'd have to sell My guns along the highway. My coins to the table To make a gambler's double, I'd double debts to pay. Prob'ly shrink and slink away, It mightn't've ended well. What If I'd been a sailor? I think it might've ended well. From August to May For a searat of man drifting through eternal blue, aboard the finest Debris. I might've called the shanties. From daybreak to storm's set, lines stay Taught, over rhythm unbroken. But, oh, there's a schism unspoken, a mighty calling of the lee. An absentminded Pirate, unaccustomed to the sea; To the land, a traitor. I think it mightn't've ended well. What might've worked for me? What might've ended well? Soldier, to bloody sally forth through hell? Teacher of glorious stories to tell? Man of gold, or stores to sell? Lover to a gentle belle? Maybe a camel; A seashell. What mightn't've been a life where it mightn't've ended well? ↗
I’m not this unusual,” she said. “It’s just my hair.” She looked at Bobby and she looked at me, with an expression at once disdainful and imploring. She was forty, pregnant, and in love with two men at once. I think what she could not abide was the zaniness of her life. Like many of us, she had grown up expecting romance to bestow dignity and direction. “Be brave,” I told her. Bobby and I stood before her, confused and homeless and lacking a plan, beset by an aching but chaotic love that refused to focus in the conventional way. Traffic roared behind us. A truck honked its hydraulic horn, a monstrous, oceanic sound. Clare shook her head, not in denial but in exasperation. Because she could think of nothing else to do, she began walking again, more slowly, toward the row of trees. ↗
البقاء مع الجماعة يبدد الفزع و لا شيء يثير الخوف مثل الانفراد... أم أذهب لكوخ مرتا القريب و أصلح ما انكسر بيننا ثم أتوسد الأرض تحت سريرها... أنا لا أعرف الكثير عنها... لم أرها من الداخل ولم أر أي شيء من داخله، أنا أطوّف دوما بظاهر الأشياء ولا أغوص فيها. بل إني أخشى أخشى الغوص في باطني، لكني أعرف حقيقة ذاتي الملتبسة,,, كل ما فيّملتبس... عمادي رهبنتي إيماني أشعاري معارفي الطبيّة محبتي لمرتا... أنا التباس في التباس! و الالتباس نقيض الإيمان، مثلما إبليس نقيض الله الراهب هيبا في تأملاته ↗
Writing fiction, especially a long work of fiction can be difficult, lonely job; it’s like crossing the Atlantic Ocean in a bathtub. There’s plenty of opportunity for self-doubt. ↗
Why do I keep evading my work? Is it because I’m afraid of being confronted by my lack of abilities? ↗
