Quotes About Puzzlement

Bueno, es medio estúpido mandarme a un lugar donde nada tiene sentido y no contestar mis preguntas.

happened to her? What had happened to them? Where were

Where am I?" Thomas asked, surprised

What are those?" he whispered as loudly as he dared,

Mark had so many questions, he couldn't get them out fast enough.

I think of how and why and what happened and the thoughts come easily, but the answers don't.

and there is no one to whom you can look for an explanation of why they are doing it, no one to whom you can go up and take him by the lapels and shake him and say What the fuck are you doing? The entire thing had been done by dead men. Who done it? Noman done it.

Although, I do have to say, it was difficult to imagine him

The door opened. 'Hercules?' said Danny tremulously. 'Isosceles? The Triangle? The Angel Apostate?

As if nothing had happened.' 'Well. Nobody knows.

his thoughts revolving silently in this squirrel-cage of mystification.

When I was a lad, there wasn't none of this myster'ousness about. Everything was straightforward an' proper. But ever since eddication come in, it's been nothing but puzzlement, and fillin' up forms and 'ospital papers and sustificates and such, before you can get even as much as your Lord George pension.

Who is this god person anyway?

She shook her head in puzzlement. 'You're very strange,' she said. 'No, I'm very ordinary,' said Arthur,'but some very strange things have happened to me. You could say I'm more differed from than differing.

She stared at them with the worried frown of a drunk trying to work out why the door is dancing.

He goggled at her as if she'd said something very strange about beetroots.

In the great debate that has raged for centuries about what, if anything, happens to you after death, be it heaven, hell, purgatory or extinction, one thing has never been in doubt—that you would at least know the answer when you were dead. Gordon Way was dead, but he simply hadn't the slightest idea what he was meant to do about it.

Does the number," said Arthur gently, "forty-two mean anything to you at all?" "What? No, what are you talking about?" exclaimed Fenchurch.

The alphabet does not go "A B C D What? When? How?" but it does go "V W X Why? Z.

I don't know. I don't know at all. And that's what's frightening the life out of me. To have no idea....

As you yourself have said, what other explanation can there be?' Poirot stared straight ahead of him. 'That is what I ask myself,' he said. 'That is what I never cease to ask myself.

Melchett said gloomily, 'Well, we know where we are -- or rather, where we aren't!' 'Where we aren't expresses it rather better, sir.

He did not know- he simply did not know. But he felt he ought to know.

Just exactly what's up on this train? It seems bughouse to me.