Quotes About Confusion

We're gonna get high, high, high, when we're low. The fires burn from better days. She scream why, oh why? I said I don't know!

Hitchcock loves to be misunderstood, because he has based his whole life around misunderstandings.

Life is just a plain bloody mess, that's all. And people are fools.

When it's my turn, I introduce myself as Josh Raymond, seventeen, no previous experience beyond my recent halfhearted experiment with sleeping pills. "The Jovian-Plutonian gravitational effect is life," I add, even though no one knows what this means

Later then, Ultraviolet." "What did you call me?" "You heard me.

I can barely hear her because I am trapped in my mind and body, shivering and afraid. I suddenly feel like I have face blindness because no one looks familiar or nice, and my eyes are flying all over the gym, searching for help.

Stupid entropy ruins everything.

I'm not a little child anymore. I know that she means they might be dead, not just in another place somewhere, but it doesn't make sense that all those people are dead. It's impossible.

Hello!" barked Dr. Joan Davenport. Lissa frowned slightly and felt her heart rate jump up and her nerves pile in. "Um," said Lissa. "Are you Alyssa Westcott?" "Um, Lissa?" Joan looked like she couldn't care less about that. "Well, you're my charge, it appears. I did ask for a boy." Lissa was confused. "Just my little joke! Never mind! Nobody reads, I get it, I get it.

But what now? What am I supposed to do with all these feelings?

You know what? Don't even worry about it," I said. "Cory Wheeler already asked me. I can tell him I changed my mind." "Who the hell is Corky Wheeler?

Good," he says, and he takes my hand, and he closes my locker door, and he walks me to class like a real boyfriend, like we're really in love. How was I supposed to know what's real and what's not? It feels like I'm the only one who doesn't know the difference.

I give him a strange look. Just a second ago he was grousing, and now he's happy as a clam. I don't get boys.

This is the moment I realize I don't love him, that I haven't for a while. That maybe I never did. Because he's right there for the taking: I could kiss him again; I could make him mine. But I don't want him. I want someone else.

John nods. "So I gathered a bunch of sticks and some flowers and I arranged them into the letters FORMAL? in front of your window. But your dad came home while I was in the middle of it, and he thought I was going around cleaning people's yards. He gave me ten bucks, and I lost my nerve and I just went home.

I stopped speaking when I realized I was no longer using any verbs or nouns, or making any sense

How was I supposed to know what's real and what's not? It feels like I'm the only one who doesn't know the difference.

Who could have done this to me?" I wail, pressing my hands to my cheeks. "I can't feel my face. Is my face still my face?

What in the world? I stare at him, my mouth open. "I never said you had an STD!

God, I don't know! Quit interrogating me, Peter.

It was a total catch-22, like a contradiction in terms.

And then he jerks his head towards mine, and he kisses me. On the lips. His eyes are closed, mine are wide open. And then mine close too, and for a second, just for a second, I kiss him back. Then I break away. I push him off. Triumphantly he says, "Did you predict that, Lara

I'm not mad at you. I'm just—why does it always have to be Conrad?

How am I supposed to know what's real and what's not? It feels like I'm the only one who doesn't know the difference.