Quotes About Misunderstanding

The God of revealed religions - and by this I mean religions like yours - is a profoundly inarticulate God. No matter how many times he tries, he can't make himself clearly or completely understood. He speaks for centuries to the Jews, but fails to make himself understood. At last he sends his only-begotten son, and his son can't seem to do any better.

Rachel tried to slap Mrs. Samuels when she said this, but she wasn't really sure where her face was and she missed, terribly.

Because you and Al have all the truth with you over there. Don't know what I'm talking about, I guess. My apologies to you who knows better.

Change comes with both fear and some pain. Those two ingredients create mistrust, misunderstanding and misinformation. Such is the process of democracy.

I was not kicking Brady; I was just loving him with my boot.

"What a kid I got, I told him about the birds and the bees and he told me about the butcher and my wife."

One age misunderstands another; and a petty age misunderstands all the others in its own ugly way.

That song is a story that shows how easily you could get slipped into being labeled as the bad guy, even though what you really trying to do is tell the bad guy to leave you alone.

I mean, look at us. We're all alone in my bedroom and I'm not feeling any urge to make any kinda move on you. That's a pretty big problem.

Our own system of trying to guess what or how much a child's mind can assimilate results in cross purposes, misunderstanding, disappointments, anger and a general loss of harmony.

If Cecelia was my enemy, that was because (as I now believe) she saw me as her enemy. As the town's barber, as the host of that mostly masculine enclosure, the barbershop, and as the town's permanent bachelor, a piece of raw material permanently raw, forever to be unimproved by a woman of her discriminating powers, I must have seemed to her to be the very gatekeeper of that unregulated other world that Roy eased away into whenever he eased away.

Whoa! she says as I plow into her. What are you DOING? Get off me! I hang on tight. Can't a girl just hug her big sister? She stops fighting me. Are you dying? Am I dying? Did Grandma die? I laugh. No one died. Then get off!

If he held me in true regard he would not believe such insinuations in my disfavour. A worthy lover should assume one has unanswerable motives for all one does!" "Certainly—

I saw you high upon a tree—" She broke off, and another single sob hit her like a blow. "The white man, the one you call Henshaw, the Hawk—do not trust him." "He is as my brother, and like a brother I love him." "Then why did he not weep, Bazo, why did he not weep when he looked up at you upon the tree?

How it was I don't understand, but we always seemed to be getting, with the best of motives, in one another's way. When I wanted to go up-stairs, there was my wife coming down; or when my wife wanted to go down, there was I coming up. That is married life, according to my experience of it.

A book is like a quarrel. One word leads to another, and may erupt in blood or print, irrevocably.

Competition is frequently praised as a great virtue to be developed by everyone. This is a costly misunderstanding, since human skills develop adequately only in cooperation, a condition of reinforcement. Competition always lies at cross-purposes with cooperation and thus frustrates individual human initiative.

And because I am happy, and dance and sing, They think they have done me no injury.

This cackit place ... They poor darkies. A greeshie way to go. He clenched his fists. I'm a snool, a glaikit sumph. Nocht but rain, howdumdied all day o'boot. I've lost my noddle. Camsteerie bloody country. He gave a harsh laugh. No strunt. Any haughmagandie? Never. Dunged into the ground. ... I could greet I tell you ... He could only understand one word in three, but this time he knew how the little man felt.

perception – I was the wrong guy in the wrong place, so it was no surprise that my troubles multiplied.

Do we not see that we are inarticulate? That is what defeats us. It is our inability to communicate to another how we are locked within ourselves, unable to say the simplest thing of importance to one another, any of us, even the most valuable, that makes our lives like those of a litter of kittens in a wood-pile.

Women know more about words than men ever will. And they know how little they can ever possibly mean.

About women? When I say soldiers I don't mean me. I wasn't no soldier anymore than a man that fixes watches is a watchmaker. And when I say women I don't mean you.

It was that his words, his telling, just did not synchronize with what his hearers believed would (and must) be the scope of a single individual.