Quotes About Puzzlement

Huh." "Huh what?" "Would you look at this?" he asked, examining a small box. "It says it glows in the dark." "So?" "So, what use is that to anybody? I mean, what am I supposed to do? Write her name in the air with it?

What the bloody hell are you, Ms. Lane?

I never thought there might be one like you out there. Unaware, untrained. Unbelievable. You have no idea what you are, do you?" "Crazy?

The place is a consummate mind-fuck.

I have had my results for a long time: but I do not yet know how I am to arrive at them.

I like when you look at me like you can't figure me out. You're considering getting to know me, but you're not sure I'm worth your time.

Who the hell are you?' A.J. asks the baby.

A man should be a mystery to his fellow man, and not because he wants to be, but because he can't be anything else.

There are doubts, sir, which, if man have them, it is not man that can solve them.

But here's the deal: If I were smart, I could figure out curling. If I were even smarter, I could figure out why people would actually watch other people doing it. I have tried. I can't. I can't even figure out the object of the game. Is it like darts? I just don't get it.

There are some people who have trouble recognizing a mess.

Nothing puzzles me more than the time and space; and yet nothing troubles me less.

...she looked like the sort of woman most men would want to get to know because they weren't sure what went on inside.

Dear God, woman,"said Will. "Are there any questions you don't want to know the answer to?

Now I'm confused. Now I don't know what I want.

She didn't have an answer for that. People like her only ever have questions.

I'm living on a one-way, dead-end street. I don't know how I got there.

I bought some instant water one time but I didn't know what to add to it.

The other night I was lying in bed, looking up at the stars, and I wondered, 'Where the hell is my roof?

Are you just a bored man with too much money, who needs to while away the long hours of an empty life by mystifying people?

She appeared to be confused as if Finnigin's questions had thrown her into a state where she herself had begun to ask questions.

All he saw of the house, as Taropat carried him through its dim-lit rooms, were picture fragments: a high-backed chair: a tilted painting of a frowning face: the gleam of a crystal ball on a cluttered table; a tattered cloth hung from the ceiling; cracked pain on the walls beside the stairs.

He couldn't understand the woman. She twisted and turned like an eel.

Got me as fussed as a fart in a mitten.