Quotes About Asks

On some positions, cowardice asks the question, is it expedient? And then expedience comes along and asks the question, is it politic? Vanity asks the question, is it popular? Conscience asks the question, is it right? There comes a time when one must take the position that is neither safe nor politic nor popular, but he must do it because conscience tells him it is right.

Poets are political, they have to be reflections of their times [because] they're living in their times... Poetry is political in that it's standing in opposition to fascism. Good poetry asks a bunch of questions and asks the audience to interact with themselves or see themselves in it; maybe you like it or you don't like it. But the fascist sort of stuff plays on your fears and tells you to jump on the party line and gives some simple excuses - blame this person.

To get at the meaning of a statement the logical positivist asks, "What would the world be like if it were true?" The operationist asks, "What would we have to do to come to believe it?" For the pragmatist the question is, "What would we do if did believe it?"

Teaching, therefore, asks first of all the creation of a space where students and teachers can enter into a fearless communication with each other and allow their respective life experiences to be their primary and most valuable source of growth and maturation. It asks for a mutual trust in which those who teach and those who want to learn can become present to each other, not as opponents, but as those who share in the same struggle and search for the same truth.

A psychiatrist is a fellow who asks you a lot of expensive questions your wife asks for nothing.

In my opinion there are two basic questions that any writer tries to answer. "What is?" is the question non-fiction asks. "What if?" is the question fiction asks. That's the question I'm more interested in.

As a final crash of self-indulgent nonsense, when the incontrovertible truth of your panoramic and murderous deceit has even begun to cost your political party seemingly perpetual congressional seats....When somebody asks you, sir, about the cooked books and faked threats you foisted on a sincere and frightened nation; when somebody asks you, sir, about your gallant, noble, self-abnegating sacrifice of your golf game so as to soothe the families of the war dead; this advice, Mr. Bush: Shut the hell up! Good night and good luck.

Abraham responds "Here I am" when God asks him to sacrifice his son, and he answers "Here I am" when his son asks him about what is happening. It's a paradoxical moment. He can't be fully present for his God or his son.

Who asks whether the enemy was defeated by strategy or valor?

As we trudge back through the woods, we reach a boulder, and both Gale and I turn our heads in the same direction, like a pair of dogs catching a scent on the wind. Cressida notices and asks what lies that way. We admit, without acknowledging each other, it's our old hunting rendez-vous place. She wants to see it, even after we tell her it's nothing really. Nothing but a place where I was happy, I think.

A Jewish man pulls up to the curb and asks the policeman, "Can I park here?" "No" says the cop. "What about all these other cars?" "They didn't ask!"

Within a capitalist corporation, someone says, "Lend me a wrench," and someone asks, "Yeah, what do I get?" You assume that the idea of each according to his or her abilities, each according to his or her needs - in solving a problem - is actually the only thing that works. And in situations of disaster, there are often communistic notions of improvisation, where you basically exchange hierarchies and all of a sudden all those things that are luxuries that you can't afford, you have them in an emergency.

One wants more time, more youth. That is it. That is all one asks for - nothing but that, a little more time. Hear it running by! Listen! In the night, in the morning, at noon, at even, rushing by, silent, stealthy, trying to hoodwink you by the fixed appearance of things that seem not to change; but never stopping. Oh, to stop it! Oh, to get it back! Oh, to dig one's toes in and refuse to be rushed headlong towards the brink!

Patience asks us to live the moment to the fullest, to be completely present to the moment, to taste the here and now, to be where we are.

He asks how the evil is to be remedied. I tell him that there seems to be little chance for avoiding the extremes of despotism or anarchy; that the only ground of hope must be the morals of the people, but that these are, I fear, too corrupt.

Caesar Flickerman asks if the president has a date in mind. "Oh, before we set a date, we better clear it with Katniss's mother," says the president. The audience gives a big laugh and the president puts his arm around me. "Maybe if the whole country puts its mind to it, we can get you married before you're thirty." "You'll probably have to pass a new law," I say with a giggle. "If that's what it takes," says the president with conspiratorial good humor. Oh, the fun we two have together.

He who wishes for anything but Christ, does not know what he wishes; he who asks for anything but Christ, does not know what he is asking; he who works, and not for Christ, does not know what he is doing.

It is nothing but a kind of a microcosmos of communism - all that psychiatry', rumbled Pnin ... 'Why not leave their private sorrow to people? Is sorrow not, one asks, the only thing in the world people really possess?

My lover asks me: “What is the difference between me and the sky?” The difference, my love, Is that when you laugh, I forget about the sky

'What do you really think happens after you die?' That's the question that everyone, everyone, everyone asks. And I'm so sick of it. But my true answer is, I don't know. And there's no way I'm going to find out 'til it happens.

Hey, Carlos," the Professor says when he walks in. "How was REACH?" "It sucked." "Can you be more specific?" my guardian asks. "It really sucked," I elaborate, sarcasm dripping from every word.

If art is not to be life-enhancing, what is it to be? Half the world is feminine - why is there resentment at a female-oriented art? Nobody asks The Tale of Genji to be masculine! Women certainly learn a lot from books oriented toward a masculine world. Why is not the reverse also true? Or are men really so afraid of women's creativity?

Greg starts a middle school and asks: Why is "bullies" such a big PROBLEM? And says people need to shave twice a day.

God is preparing you for greater things. He's going to take you further than you thought possible, so don't be surprised when He asks you to think better of yourself and to act accordingly.

Nations crumble from within when the citizenry asks of government those things which the citizenry might better provide for itself.

The most evocative thing to me is probably when a writer and a group of performers can collectively put together something compelling that asks the really simple question: 'How do we live?'

If you believe that men and women have equal rights, if someone asks if you're feminist, you have to say yes because that is how words work.

Christ, in short, asks us to give everything, all our false redemption in the lifeboat, all our false ideas about who God is, all our trust in something other than God to redeem us. In so doing, we die to our broken natures in exchange for His perfect nature, and find unification with Him that will allow God to see us as one.

It seems to me that there is a good deal of ballyhoo about scientific method. I venture to think that the people who talk most about it are the people who do least about it. Scientific method is what working scientists do, not what other people or even they themselves may say about it. No working scientist, when he plans an experiment in the laboratory, asks himself whether he is being properly scientific, nor is he interested in whatever method he may be using as method.

Every day someone notices me and waves to me, or stops and speaks to me, or asks me for an autograph, or photographs me.

I think I'm a homebody. I don't talk to anyone. I sit at home, and no one asks me questions or I'm talking about goat noises.

One who never asks either knows everything or nothing.

I'm guessing I'm your fake girlfriend? B. J. Asks, sighing. It's a miracle that he figured it out. He's not usually the best with things that aren't spelled out for him. Of course, sweetie, I say. I try not to think about the fact that I'm talking to B. J. Like we're in love. B. J. Is six-foot-four and 220 pounds. Not someone you want to think about being intimate with.

You're no longer fighting God, trying to make Him do what you want. You're accepting what happens, and your main prayer transforms into one that asks God for nothing more than understanding and perhaps strength to endure.

Is that all I am? A friend?" "Of course not," I say. "I love you." "Am I the only one?" she asks. "Yes. Completely." First, last, and always.

Two questions form the foundation of all novels: "What if?" and "What next?" (A third question, "What now?", is one the author asks himself every 10 minutes or so; but it's more a cry than a question.) Every novel begins with the speculative question, What if "X" happened? That's how you start.

A person who asks love of others, but does not himself give it, cannot be loved. Always be the first to give love and it shall be given to you. As long as you do not give your heart first, you will be far from love.

I'm with the president nearly every day. We engage in complex conversations about some of the most weighty matters facing the world. I deliver to him this exquisite product that's been developed by my officers. He engages in a way that shows his understanding of the complexity. He asks really hard questions. He delivers policy outcomes based on the information that we provide him. My observation of the president is that, we deal in serious matters.

Rather an end in horror, than horror without end. He could not condemn principles he might need to invoke and apply later. The wolf cannot help having been created by God as he is, but we shoot him all the same if we have to. The great player in diplomacy, as in chess, asks the question,Does this improve me?, not look at the possible fringe benefits If you can't have what you like, you must like what you have.

A smooth lecture... may be pleasant; a good teacher challenges, asks, irritates and maintains high standards - all that is generally not pleasant.

We drove to the airport. On the way, Clay gave him "the lecture," including all the do's and don'ts of meeting the Alpha, which was only slightly more complicated than an audience with the queen. Don't sit until you're invited to. Don't talk unless he asks you a question. Don't eat before he does. Don't make direct eye contact. Jeremy demanded none of this, but that wasn't the point.

Architects work in two ways. One is to respond precisely to a client's needs or demands. Another is to look at what the client asks and reinterpret it.

The Irish tell the story of a man who arrives at the gates of heaven and asks to be let in St. Peter says, “Of course, just show us your scars.” The man says, “I have no scars”. St. Peter says, “What a pity was there nothing worth fighting for”?

Everybody asks me, 'So, what are you doing now?' Why must I be doing something? All my life I've been doing something. All my life I've been doing. For now, I'm being -- being quiet, being grateful.

I've always written songs from a sad place. I can't think of one good song that I have written in a happy place. I was saying I was kinda bummed because I've been sorta chasing the girl I've been in love with for years and years and we're finally together now, and I'm like super happy for months and months and months. And my girlfriend asks, "Why haven't you written a song for me?"And I don't know how to tell her "Because it's just too good."

Politics is the business of getting power and privilege without possessing merit. A politician is anyone who asks individuals to surrender part of their liberty - their power and privilege - to State, Masses, Mankind, Planet Earth, or whatever. This state, those masses, that mankind, and the planet will then be run by ... politicians.

And if anyone asks what became of me, you relate my life in all its wonder, and end it with a simple and modest "He died.

What are you working on? If someone asks you that, are you excited to tell them the answer? If you're not, you're wasting away.