Quotes about choices

Resolution and a plan are better than a sword, because a man whets his own edges on them.

We stand now where two roads diverge. But unlike the roads in Robert Frost's familiar poem, they are not equally fair. The road we have long been traveling is deceptively easy, a smooth superhighway on which we progress with great speed, but at its end lies disaster. The other fork of the road-the one "less traveled by"-offers our last, our only chance to reach a destination that assures the preservation of our earth. The choice, after all, is ours to make.

Cautious deliberation based on purely rational arguments can save us from many errors and dangers. ...But ...there will always be a fundamental complementarity between deliberation and decision. ...The decision finally... pushing away all the arguments... The decision may be the result of deliberation, but it is... complementary... it excludes deliberation. Even the most important decisions... contain this inevitable element of irrationality. ...[I]t cannot be avoided that some real or apparent truth form the basis of life; and this fact should be acknowledged with regard to those groups... whose basis is different from our own.

Samuel smiled at me. "Freedom and fairness are very important to you, aren't they?"

I nodded, and frowned. "They're important to everybody."

He laughed. "Oh, no, Anita, you would be amazed at the number of people who try to give away their freedom at every opportunity. They much prefer that someone else make their decisions."

All our rationalities are invented to justify what we were going to do anyway before we thought of any reasons.

You'd think she'd learn something from that. But she still does the same thing. Making decisions that deform other people’s lives, without consulting them, without ever conceiving that perhaps they don't want her to save them from whatever supposed misery she's saving them from.

I saw myself sitting in the crotch of this fig tree, starving to death, just because I couldn't make up my mind which of the figs I would choose. I wanted each and every one of them, but choosing one meant losing all the rest, and, as I sat there, unable to decide, the figs began to wrinkle and go black, and, one by one, they plopped to the ground at my feet.

I saw my life branching out before me like the green fig tree in the story. From the tip of every branch, like a fat purple fig, a wonderful future beckoned and winked. One fig was a husband and happy home and children, and another fig was a famous poet and another fig was a brilliant professor, and another fig was Ee Gee, the amazing editor, and another fig was Constantin and Socrates and Attila and a pack of other lovers with queer names and offbeat professions, and another fig was an Olympic lady crew champion, and beyond and above these figs were many more figs I couldn't quite make out.

Too much high-content information, and I get the existential willies. I keep sputtering out at intersections where life choices must be made and I either know too much or not enough. The examined life is no picnic.

"How do you always manage to decide?"

"How can you let others decide for you?"

I felt like a moth in a chandelier — all at once there were lots of pretty choices, but I wasn't quite sure where to fly.

Every person, all the events of your life, are there because you have drawn them there. What you choose to do with them is up to you.