Doubt's (n.) solution lies not in reflection but in resolution.
Doubt (n.) is thought's despair, just as despair is personality's doubt.
Doubt (n.) has become so easy that people doubt everything and find certitude again — as if it had been suggested to them in sleep — yet never whisper of love's real difficulties.
Doubt (n.) takes courage, but less than knowing: one may dare to doubt and fight everything and still lack the courage to possess anything.
Doubt (n.) makes the soul a Dead Sea: no bird can fly over it — midway, it sinks to death.
Doubt (n.) urged on others can hide envy, which enjoys depriving them of what they hold sure — a half-baked thief of a doubter frightens women and children because he cannot terrify men.
Doubt (n.) cried up by young men like a Reign of Terror slogan sends many out on the deep without the power to doubt, and they perish.
Doubt (n.) becomes a passion of annihilation in the aesthete: to satiate its hunger at the expense of existence, march seven times round it blowing the trumpet, and let it collapse — for Echo is heard only in emptiness.
Doubt (n.) is a despair of thought; despair is a doubt of the personality.
Doubt (n.) is determined by necessity — 'I would willingly believe, but I cannot, I must doubt' — which shows the whole personality is not engaged.
Doubt (n.) is not put to rest by 'one does what one can' — a shrewd saying, for the whole anguish is not knowing how much it is a man can do.
Doubt (n.) persists as long as one makes the infinite relationship finite, or fills it up with a more-or-less of worldly wisdom.
Doubt (n.) was for the ancient Greeks the task of a whole lifetime; in our time it is where everybody begins.
Doubt (n.) would have given Abraham something glorious — a knife in his own breast, admired by the world — but never the guiding star that saves the anguished.
Doubt (n.) turns a retreat into a flight, a rescue into an accident, a reward into dishonor.
Doubt (n.) as our age has experienced it would hardly fill the left-hand margin, if the age were asked to write it all down.
Doubt (n.) can do what Tamerlane did with his Huns: make existence quake beneath men's feet and the shriek of dread sound on all sides.
Doubt (n.) is hidden by a sympathetic Faust more carefully than a girl hides the fruit of a sinful love under her heart — a sacrifice of himself for the universal.
Doubt (n.) is now proved by a doctor's diploma, an oath, or having met a doubter on a journey — footracers of the spirit who pick up a hint of doubt here, a hint of faith there.
Doubt (n.) is cured only by being transformed into guilt — and then one may get another doubt.