All the interests of my reason, speculative as well as practical, combine in the three following questions: 1. What can I know? 2. What ought I to do? 3. What may I hope?
Inner-life questions are the kind everyone asks, with or without benefit of God-talk: ‘Does my life have meaning and purpose?’ ‘Do I have gifts that the world wants and needs?’ ‘Whom and what shall I serve?’ ‘Whom and what can I trust?’ ‘How can I rise above my fears?’
Theater is there to search for questions. It doesn’t give you instructions.
I have a profound resistance to the idea that a reader could say, ‘Oh, well, that’s her story.’ We should all be interested, no matter where we come from, or who our parents are. It’s not my province; it’s ours. These questions concern us all.
The real discovery is the one which enables me to stop doing philosophy when I want to. The one that gives philosophy peace, so that it is no longer tormented by questions which bring itself into question.
In the light of our culture, these are not unreasonable questions and tactics, but if once again, we try to see the lens through which we look, we can see that there is far too great an emphasis placed on the future.
Group personification obscures, rather than illuminates, important political questions.
It is one of the chief skills of the philosopher not to occupy himself with questions which do not concern him.
In 50 years – or 20 years, or 200 years – our current epistemic horizon (the Big Bang, roughly) may look as parochial as the horizon Newton had to settle for in his day, but no doubt there will still be good questions whose answers elude us.
We have reached a new milestone as a human family. With seven billion of us now inhabiting our planet, it is time to ask some fundamental questions. How can we provide a dignified life for ourselves and future generations while preserving and protecting the global commons – the atmosphere, the oceans and the ecosystems that support us?