In the word question, there is a beautiful word – quest. I love that word.
Elie WieselElie Wiesel The main question is not, how can we hide our wounds but how can we put our woundedness in service to others.
Henri NouwenHenri Nouwen It is a very great thing to be able to think as you like; but, after all, an important question remains: what you think.
Matthew ArnoldMatthew Arnold Let me ask you one question Is your money that good Will it buy you forgiveness Do you think that it could I think you will find When your death takes its toll All the money you made Will never buy back your soul
Bob DylanBob Dylan Epicurus’s old questions are still unanswered: Is he (God) willing to prevent evil, but not able? then he is impotent. Is he able, but not willing? then he is malevolent. Is he both able and willing? then whence evil?
David HumeDavid Hume Any knowledge that doesn’t lead to new questions quickly dies out: it fails to maintain the temperature required for sustaining life.
Wislawa SzymborskaWislawa Szymborska Even the genius ask questions.
Tupac ShakurTupac Shakur Everywhere in life, the true question is not what we gain, but what we do.
Thomas CarlyleThomas Carlyle This seems to me a philosophical question, and therefore irrelevant, question. A poet’s destiny is to love.
Robert GravesRobert Graves The great political questions are in their final analysis great moral questions.
William Jennings BryanWilliam Jennings Bryan We were dirt poor but we had each other. We didn’t need much to have a lot.
Brad NeatonBrad Neaton Always show kindness and love to others. Your words might be filling the empty places in someone else heart.
Alexander KandovAlexander Kandov One quick sip of your memory I let it slip, and I go on without you.
Emma SchippersEmma Schippers If the scars on my heart were visible to the naked eye, maybe you’d think twice about inflicting more.
Laura Natoli-KearneyLaura Natoli-Kearney I am getting better at forgetting you. I am slowly but steadily learning the art of forgetting you.
Juana GarciaJuana Garcia Paper and pen petrify me, for they pierce right through me, drawing deep blue blood, leaving me utterly cold.
Shreya JoshiShreya Joshi
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