A Quote by Anton Chekhov

Why are we worn out? Why do we, who start out so passionate, brave, noble, believing, become totally bankrupt by the age of thirty or thirty-five? Why is it that one is extinguished by consumption, another puts a bullet in his head, a third seeks oblivion in vodka, cards, a fourth, in order to stifle fear and anguish, cynically tramples underfoot the portrait of his pure, beautiful youth? Why is it that, once fallen, we do not try to rise, and, having lost one thing, we do not seek another? Why?
Why do we smile? Why do we laugh? Why do we feel alone? Why are we sad and confused? Why do we read poetry? Why do we cry when we see a painting? Why is there a riot in the heart when we love? Why do we feel shame? What is that thing in the pit of your stomach called desire?
Why Me? Why You? Why His? Why Hers, Why Mine? or Why Theirs? It should be We and Ours.
A man is more than one being in his life. If the last persists, why not the first? If there be a hereafter for his age, why not for his youth?
When you get your self realization or your second birth you become entitled to an awareness by which you can find out the roots of everything. You can find out the roots why people get sick, you can find out why there are incurable diseases, you can find out why there are psychological problems, you can find out why there are moral crisises, you can find out why there are political problems, why there are economic problems.
Why is the world round? Why do the suckas bite? Why do the freaks come out at night? Why they paint Jesus white? I sit and wonder why we breakin hip-hop laws, Doing videos in houses that we know ain't yours.
Why do we even make guns? I'm not against gun control. I'm against guns, period. I'm against anything at all that is used as an instrument of death. Why would we manufacture such a thing? Why would we have a business that does it? Why don't we figure out a way to disarm ourselves totally?
I don't know why we choose to reach out to help another person, or why we decide that we can't, and withdraw and try to care only for ourselves, but I'm fascinated by that choice.
The way I look at it within myself, why not? Why can't I be the MVP of the League? Why can't I be the best player in the League? I don't see why-why-why can't I do that? I think I work hard, I think I dedicate myself to the game and sacrifice a lot of things at a young age and I know if I continue to do good, what I can get out of it and if that's me going out or doing whatever, I'm willing to do it because I know in the long run, it's going to help me.
You should know what makes one photo brilliant and another. Why one illustration is instructive and another is banal. Why one blurb is clever and another is trying too hard. Why one video is brilliantly entertaining and another is cheesy. Bottom line: you should want to do great work with a great team-no matter the cost.
I like looking at the finger of God. Why it takes one and not another, why this one or that one, why now or why then. The finger of God is always on us. When you get older and you see your friends dying around you, you say "Why not me?" That machine is always there.
Why don't you knock it off with them negative waves ?Why don't you dig how beautiful it is out here ?Why don't you say something righteous and hopeful for a change ?
Very few people or companies can clearly articulate WHY they do WHAT they do. By WHY I mean your purpose, cause or belief - WHY does your company exist? WHY do you get out of bed every morning? And WHY should anyone care?
Why?" asked her companion. "Why do you love him when you ought not to?" Edna, with a motion or two, dragged herself on her knees before Mademoiselle Reisz, who took the glowing face between her two hands. "Why? Because his hair is brown and grows away from his temples; because he opens and shuts his eyes, and his nose is a little out of drawing; because he has two lips and a square chin, and a little finger which he can't straighten from having played baseball too energetically in his youth. Because - " "Because you do, in short," laughed Mademoiselle.
Beyond all explanations which a good brain can give, why do we choose the worse and not the better, why hate rather than love, why greed and not generosity, why self-centred activity and not open total action? Why be mean when there are soaring mountains and flashing streams? Why jealousy and not love? Why?
why can't you see i'm a kid', said the kid. Why try to make me like you? Why are you hurt when I don't cuddle? Why do you sigh when I splash through a puddle? Why do you scream when I do what I did? Im a kid.
If I just got up in the morning and had no place to go and was retired or something, I would be sitting there and be thinking, "Gee, what is the purpose of life? Why are we all finite? Why do we get old and die? Is there nothing out there? Why is it so tragic? Why do our loved ones perish? Why do we generate?" Who wants to think about that stuff?
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