Quotes About Misunderstanding

It is a troublesome thing, Halford, this susceptibility to affronts where none are intended.

She left me, offended at my want of sympathy, and thinking, no doubt, that I envied her. I did not - at least, I firmly believed I did not.

who had taken a violent fancy to me, mistaking me for something vastly better than I was.

If I talk, everyone thinks I'm showing off; when I'm silent they think I'm ridiculous, rude if I answer, sly if I get a good idea, lazy if I'm tired, selfish if I eat a mouthful more than I should, stupid, cowardly, crafty, etc., etc.

It's obvious that I'm a stranger to her; she doesn't even know what I think about the most ordinary things.

I'm not a baby or a spoiled darling any more, to be laughed at, whatever she does. I have my own views, plans, and ideas, though I can't put them into words yet. Oh, so many things bubble up inside me as I lie in bed, having to put up with people I'm fed up with, who always misinterpret my intentions.

Of course, there's sometimes a reason to have a "real" quarrel, but the verbal exchanges that take place here are just plain bickering. I should be used to the fact that these squabbles are daily occurrences, but I'm not and never will be as long as I'm the subject of nearly every discussion.

the office. Unable to wait, he went to the bathroom but didn't flush the toilet. To warn us of the unpleasant odor, he tacked a sign to the bathroom door: "RSVP—gas!" Of course, he meant "Danger—gas!" but he thought "RSVP" looked more elegant. He didn't have the faintest idea that it meant "please reply." Yours

At any rate, they laugh at us when we're serious, and they're serious when we're joking.

A man told me that for a woman, I was very opinionated. I said, 'For a man, you're kind of ignorant.

My good ideas for other people so often seem to annoy them.

fashion. I'm sure he mistook you for one of those…

nonsenses to them that reminded her of

What was presumed and what was actually known were two entirely different things.

She was innately suspicious of language because she could "hear" with remarkable accuracy what lay behind it, and also she just didn't know how to talk very well.

Who could trust language?

Me temes porque no sabes cómo soy. Tengo aspecto de mujer, me expreso como un hombre y tu razón te dice que la suma total es imposible.

What could thesee words mean to her? They must have sounded like old poetry. How could I expect her to grasp what I had said.

What could these words mean to her? They must have sounded like old poetry. How could I expect her to grasp what I had said.

I always understood you. I've always understood Goblin. Are you going to betray all that now?

They were like people who run to meet, holding out their arms, but their aim is wrong; they pass each other and keep running.

There was a certain liberation in talking to a man who didn't have a full grasp of English. She could tell him anything and half of it would fly right past him, especially if the words came tumbling out fast enough

I'm worried if I come too close, they'll say I'm overstepping. They'll say I'm pushy, or … emotional, you know. But if I back off, they might think I don't care. I really, honestly believe I missed some rule that everyone else takes for granted; I must have been absent from school that day. There's this narrow little dividing line I somehow never located.

He would always make her feel too big and too gruff and too shocking; she would forever be trying to watch her words when she was with him. He was not the kind of person who liked her true self, for better or worse.