Pete Sampras Quotes

The idle mind knows not what it wants.

He longed to be lost but he couldn't bear not to be found.

Gee I don't know, I just want to get home.

If I've been here a long time, I think: I must go to London and speak to someone or see a bus.

I'd happily just stay on the road. Getting home from America, sitting in my kitchen with a cup of tea, staring out of the window is pretty depressing. I didn't have a tour manager to tell me what to do so I had to start reaching out to people and making plans. That was hard. You become very vegetable-y.

Oh, my ways are strange ways and new ways and old ways, And deep ways and steep ways and high ways and low, I'm at home and at ease on a track that I know not, And restless and lost on a road that I know.

We are anxious because we do not know what roles to pursue, what principles for action to believe in. Our individual anxiety, somewhat like that of the nation, is a basic confusion and bewilderment about where we are going.

Standing in the middle of nowhere, wondering how to begin. Lost between tomorrow and yesterday, between now and then.

What am I supposed to do here? What am I supposed to think?

I don't remember lighting this cigarette and I don't remember if I'm here alone or waiting for someone.

I'm not dating anyone. I don't even know where I am half of the time.

Oh Christ, the exhaustion of not knowing anything. It's so tiring and hard on the nerves. It really takes it out of you, not knowing anything. You're given comedy and miss all the jokes. Every hour you get weaker. Sometimes, as I sit alone in my flat in London and stare at the window, I think how dismal it is, how heavy, to watch the rain and not know why it falls.

I guess I don't really know what I want to do, either. Sometimes I feel like a shook-up bottle of soda. Like, I have all this passion that wants to explode, but I don't know where to aim it yet.

What is he aching to do? What are we all aching to do? What do we want?” She didn’t know. She yawned. She was sleepy. It was too much. Nobody could tell. Nobody would ever tell. It was all over. She was eighteen and most lovely, and lost.

It made me wonder if the reasons our lives seem so muddled is because we keep walking into scenes in which we, along with the people around us, have no clear idea what we want.

Sometimes he did not know if he slept or just thought about sleep.

I know not whether you came to me or I to you. Not whether it was a dream, asleep or awake. I am lost in the darkness of a downcast heart. Dream or reality. Let it be decided tonight.

I was just stock in the middle, vague and undefined.

By clarity I don't mean that we're always in kind of a simple area where everything is clear and comforting and understood. Clarity is certainly a way toward disorientation because if you don't start out - if the reader isn't grounded, if the reader is disoriented in the beginning of the poem, then the reader can't be led astray or disoriented later.

It is at the cross-roads that skepticism is born, not in a hermitage.

On Tuesday, when it hails and snows, The feeling on me grows and grows That hardly anybody knows If those are these or these are those.

I was born lost and take no pleasure in being found.

Harrier twisted himself sideways on his saddle to stare at him [Tiercel]. 'You had a vision,' he said flaty. Yes. No. I don't know. I...Yes. No.

In these times I don't, in a manner of speaking, know what I want; perhaps I don't want what I know and want what I don't know.

Lukewarm acceptance is more bewildering than outright rejection.