Quotes About Puzzlement

I nodded, understanding nothing.

Thinkers aren't limited by what they know, because they can always increase what they know. Rather they're limited by what puzzles them, because there's no way to become curious about something that doesn't puzzle you. If a thing falls outside the range of people's curiosity, then they simply cannot make inquiries about it. It constitutes a blind spot — a spot of blindness that you can't even know is there until someone draws your attention to it.

Thinkers aren't limited by what they know, because they can always increase what they know. Rather they're limited by what puzzles them, because there's no way to become curious about something that doesn't puzzle you. If a thing falls outside the range of people's curiosity, then they simply cannot make inquiries about it. It constitutes a blind spot - a spot of blindness that you can't even know is there unit someone draws your attention to it.

Help! Why is Wednesday spelled like that?

they are mystified by certain instances.

No idea. None whatever. That's exactly what makes it so interesting.

Now then. Now then now then. What's all this, then?

Just who are the cheese monkeys? And what do they want?

Why didn't he show up?

Where the hell is Nina?

Jean asked her sister, "Am I?" "Are you?" she asked back.

I don't know which is right!

I don't know about this thing - being famous. I haven't figured it out yet. It still mystifies me.

What sort of philosophers are we, who know absolutely nothing about the origin and destiny of cats?

She had an immense curiosity about life, and was constantly staring and wondering.

Anxiously, he touched the lump on his head again, then felt his injured leg, groaning. "The whole affair is a mystery to me," he said. "Who would want to steal anything from me?" "Perhaps a thief...?" ventured Julius.

O ye, who see perplexities over your heads, beneath your feet, and to the right and left of you; you will be an eternal enigma unto yourselves until ye become humble and joyful as children.

Qué haré? —dije—. Es una pena suicidarse después de haber vivido noventa y nueve años sin entender nada.

I don't know how to phrase this exactly but what the fuck?

I am always wondering about love.

What are those?

When I read profiles of myself, I sometimes think: 'I have spent my whole life struggling to understand my motivations and impulses, and I've never quite sorted them out.'

If we were to inspect ourselves or members of our family and our friends, we would see that we don't really have to go all the way overseas to be mystified - we can be mystified right at home.

What a fine persecution—to be kept intrigued without ever quite being enlightened.