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bblackwell
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Doubt_And_NonDoubt

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“jesus, i can’t leave a single thing to you!
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claudia was positive that he would be nominated as the candidate of his party, though rory was skeptical in spite of his father's power and money.
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and was just about big enough to pull the goddamn pony cart.
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he sure was one good-looking indian.
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for some reason the lake was a source of particular pleasure to fingerbone that year.
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she says mother céline should drink some hot tea.” sister aimée sighs impatiently and steps outside to get the tray, saying, “i’ll be sure to put it by her palliasse.” mariette pettishly retracts the tray and says, “mother saint-raphaël particularly wanted me to give it to the prioress.” “you ...
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sure, andy admitted, australia was settled by convicts—but wait a moment, mate, just ask yourself how they got to be convicts in the first place.
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i sat at the back of the church, huddled down to combat the chill.
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i’m telling you i have my doubts, and that’s all i’m trying to tell you.
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and when at last they reached the inn, it was little better than a square stone wall, moss-grown and decrepit, with an open enclosure for the animals, and a wooden loggia to shelter the people.
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georgie shot off his mouth at eddie, sure; he had stood for a lot eddie did, but this, no.
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“i doubt it.” when the cars pulled out of the station, we were still in possession of our unpaid-for reading matter.
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yes sir, i’m sure of that!
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mulrooney had completed his circuit of the mountain and established this beyond a doubt.
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'it certainly isn't!'
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not just, not just his hands wrapped around my throat but, oh god, he was sort of pressing with just his fingertips.
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not very often, but once in a while.” “he’s probably glad of a little vacation, especially right now, since corn planting was so quick.” “no doubt.” i was putting in tomato plants the next day, a hundred tomato plants, mostly better boys, gurney girls, and romas that rose had grown in her cold frame.
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opal, here, had got the word the day she was born, and by the time she was five and a half years old she could preach to a fare-thee-well against the catholics and the wets.
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“they didn’t know faith.
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if i had surrendered it to the church, it would have been venerated as a holy relic or destroyed by those who would tear it apart in a quest for authenticity.” “if it hasn’t been examined or dated,” i said, my mind congesting with doubts, “how do i know it is genuine?” “you don’t know.” asher lo...
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adelmo took care that his art, indulging in bizarre and fantastic images, was directed nevertheless to the glory of god, as an instrument of the knowledge of celestial things.
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dear god, forgive me, forgive me, bless my father, my mother, my grandfather, now let me sleep.
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his voice was quiet, though not gentle, and it held a professional skepticism.
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now, i know he’s got personal problems andi won’t bother him until tomorrow and irealizeyou’ve given your word to stay secure, butgoddamn it, somebody had better start telling mesomething!” there was no response from the other end of theline.
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“it’s the other jesus she means,” i said.
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the last hip sarcoma cure we had, before mrs. moore's, dates back to 1963. i have no doubt—and certainly as a specialist in this area, you will agree -- that the cure of such sarcoma will be less unusual in the future, as medicine progresses."
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“no, but there’s always a first time for everything.” “jesus,” he said at exactly the same time that upstairs in the kitchen above them, bob said, “i don’t want to cry any more for dead people.” constance tried to think of something to console him but she couldn’t think of anything, so she rem...
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joseph looked hard at fonny – a long look, in which one watched skepticism surrender to a certain resigned tenderness, a self-recognition.
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we surely won’t go clean to the top .
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they assured me that for all of the devastation of the coast, peace still reigned inland on the western shore.
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i will not fail the boy whose weakness i once shielded with my shoulder cloth by the hills of thebes; my goal is the greatness of egypt, and only i can save it.” pharaoh asked, “have you spoken?” they answered with one voice, “we have spoken.” then pharaoh said, “i must watch and pray before i make my de...
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it was a nice thought, and most likely true, but allie doubted that george’s heart was ready for that kind of speculation.
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“he paid that off long ago.” angela closed the lipstick and dropped it into the bag.
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soon after that, christina came to the university as a history student.
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it was good to have a growing-up son, and he thought happily of the corner table at the cheval noir which henri was doubtless already preparing.
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the old man surely hadn't driven anything since a model a, and he poked along, fumbling at it, scared to death-and that old woman, i know, mouthing at him every foot of the way.
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surely she was hearing sounds of evil spirits flitting about, cackling in her ear every time they passed her way.
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“i doubt it.” “are you on the pill?” she shook her head.
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sustaining that state of mind is another matter entirely, but it sure is wonderful while it lasts.
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you’re not stacking a lousy pervert like boy flyte-martin against god almighty, are you?” but he couldn’t get a rise out of her.
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you remember when i wrote it christina?
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he'd insisted the boys be called john, paul and george and terri thanked the lord he'd gone before there was a fourth.
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the last two advisers were nat schlesinger, the wealthy public relations executive, whose personal signature was the bow tie and whose rich experience in presidential politics had begun with james kilcannon; and mick lasker, the sharp-featured california campaign manager, a los angeles lawyer in his fifties who had run...
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“and i, who have convinced you to stake your lives and fortunes upon this journey, cannot desert the expedition.
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the carpenter's pickup truck is parked in front of the door, and through the afternoon the men at the card game have heard the measured sounds of his hammering and sawing.
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but with a wounded man in uncertain condition this was no longer a strike mission; it was a rescue mission.
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then he saw mary's white, determined face.
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after ripe reflection, it seems as if the gods intended me for an innkeeper, though by some error i was born a slave.
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for god's sake!
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angela and david looked at each other.
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wolfe’s mutiny had put me in a humor that would have made it a pleasure to take a swing at somebody, and this character was the right size and build to make it not only a pleasure but good exercise.
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i was sure i was going to bite that thing in two.
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wolfe is convinced that when real trouble comes the first thing to do is eat.
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pastor nolan spoke words of comfort and hope, but ross sincerely doubted if anything he said would alleviate the look of hopelessness he read on amanda jackson’s face.
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“it’s not secure!” he yelled.
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i need you!” monday of gala week leah rose prided herself on thinking under pressure.
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no matches found susan sat a moment, unsure what she was even looking for.
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‘you sure?
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his boots were undoubtedly hand-tooled; he had insisted on bringing them along.
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the young guard gasped, then threw back his head and howled in disbelief.
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he had stopped tapia only because he recognized him and knew his background and suspected what he was doing in the commercial area of the flats on a sunday afternoon.
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he said, peering at klug in disbelief.
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—i don’t know christina, but the insurance company’s doctor when we file this lawsuit they’ll probably .
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you get a list of big shots for members–hopkins undoubtedly has that in his mind already.
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"but a man can't live for himself and i need the money for certain important things.
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let him go in peace.” sterling lifted a fist to his hip, still unconvinced.
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the three parallel scratches barely showed, thank heaven.
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the six-and-a-half­foot egomaniac bent and folded into a five-foot child’s bed down the hallway of this middle-class apartment would awaken with righteous certainty that he alone was the target, the total enemy, the lobo messiah.
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maybe she wasn’t a believer anymore.
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he displayed no pleasure as i might have expected of him; his whole attitude was one of reluctance.
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“amy, i’ve never wanted you to feel that way.” “what way?” “weren’t you going to say pressured?” she nodded, and he asked, “how would you want a friend to act?” “so friendly that he’d accept me no matter what i thought or said.” “about people like silverheels and lizzie?
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the tender love he had felt for her as a little girl had become the chivalrous devotion of a subject for his queen, but it had never been passion.
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maybe not, though she couldn’t be sure.
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she was devoted to no saint, not even st. patrick, and would remind shocked others that the saint had not even been an irishman but had come from some heathen country or other.
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as it's turned out, my own life isn't much of a model for all priests everywhere-or even for any priest anywhere-but whatever it is, it's mine.
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i have more faith in machines than i have in people.
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in addition, you will refrain from calling certain individuals witches or wizards, and in conjunction with this, no more are you to indulge in the burning of boards to heal or deliver those so-called witches from their bewitchment.” old man walker sitting in front of mark muttered, “some teaching.
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1985, a hell of a year.
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"very little," i told him, with i suppose some agnostic smugness, "except that it is evidently correct."
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they drifted on like snow, and there, surely!
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“god, al, i had no idea you knew so much about nuns.
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"i'm getting the feeling that finding out who killed hodges won't be easy," angela said.
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zwingli whispered confidentially: “god, that spade gets under my skin…look, i went way out on a limb for you.
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christ.
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snopes had no friends; there was no man nor woman among us, not even hoxey or mrs. snopes, who we believed could say, “i know his thought”—least of all, those among whom we saw him now and then, sitting about the stove in the rear of a certain smelly, third-rate grocery, listening and not talking, for an hour or ...
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he'd gotten up from his disordered desk to escort angela into the room.
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i doubt one in ten can tell a dye pack when he sees one.
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we can make sure we have no more visitors."
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“there!” he was dressed as a monk.
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“there’s an hour of light yet.” “sure; we might even reach the crest by dark.” he looked at me.
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god, he thought, for ten pence i’d just turn west and keep walking.
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“doubt it.
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“i’ll phone him again a bit later.” he hung up and smoked another cigarette, and wondered what in hell he was going to do with his life.
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tentatively the times gave tilden 184 electoral votes and hayes 181, making the point that if “doubtful” florida should go republican, hayes would be elected by one vote in the electoral college.
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“but it may be several days before we can tell.” the next day paul was still seriously ill, and although luke was fairly certain that he was merely suffering from a severe recurrence of his old fever, there was no way to be sure that something more serious had not occurred.
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for comfort or for revenge or just for his own sanity, he wasn’t sure, but he ran faster as he neared the old cave.
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theology had given his doubts shape and depth.
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the spring of extreme youth was in her frame, appreciation for the gifts was foaming, the certainty that she must follow lucy claffey’s injunctions (and the sooner the better) was a delight intense enough to be named as a pain.
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doc took me aside and told me confidentially that he was especially glad to have me as a member.
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amy will know what to fix.” “thank you, doctor, but i’m not—” “uncle mark.” “thank you, uncle mark, but i’m not sure i can come back into town tomorrow.” mark stared at carrie for a moment.
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