Quotes About Confusion

I]f the basic claims of religion are true, the scientific worldview is so blinkered and susceptible to supernatural modification as to be rendered nearly ridiculous; if the basic claims of religion are false, most people are profoundly confused about the nature of reality, confounded by irrational hopes and fears, and tending to waste precious time and attention--often with tragic results. Is this really a dichotomy about which science can claim to be neutral?

you are thinking without knowing you are thinking, you are confused about who and what you are.

I am left with a feeling and I cannot tell if it's emptiness or fullness.

I found our speech copious without order, and energetick without rules: wherever I turned my view, there was perplexity to be disentangled, and confusion to be regulated.

Experience has long shown this method to be so distinct as to obviate confusion, and so comprehensive as to prevent any inconvenient omissions.

He took a long time to answer. "I asked which of her brothers had fathered the baby. She told me it could have been either.

I like things to be clearly defined. Trouble brews when the lines are blurred. When people don't know where they stand.

Lo soñado se confunde con lo pensado. La realidad y la irrealidad se vuelven continuas.

He stares at me, and then leans back in his chair. He's ill, Jacob. I say nothing. He's a paragon schnitzophonic. He's what?! Paragon schnitzophonic, repeats Uncle Al. You mean paranoid schizophrenic? Sure. Whatever. But the bottom line is he's mad as a hatter...

He's paragon schnitzophonic." "He's what?!" "Paragon schnitzophonic," repeats Uncle Al. "You mean paranoid schizophrenic?

It's no good. Even when I look straight into the milky blue eyes, I can't find myself anymore. When did I stop being me?

He's paragon schnitzophonic.' 'He's what?!' 'Paragon schnitzophonic,' repeats Uncle Al. 'You mean paranoid schizophrenic?

Right now I would love to have a personal message from God. I want to believe the way I used to, when my dad or mom or sometimes both of them would pray with me at night and I would picture God listening, kind-eyed and bearded. He was real to me, as real as my own parents. I don't know when God stopped being someone I saw as my true friend, and turned into something I'm mostly confused about.

You're a teenage boy. I have boobs. What part of the equation is missing?

Like a word on a page that you've printed and read a million times, that suddenly looks strange or wrong, foreign. And you feel scared for a second, like you've lost something, even if you're not sure what it is.

And that was it. All this buildup to a great leap, and I didn't fall or fly. Instead I found myself back on the edge of the cliff, blinking, wondering if I'd ever jumped at all. It's not supposed to be like this.

Suddenly, I felt so helpless. If I hated the crowds but also my own company, where did that leave me?

Because it is so hard, in any life, to believe in what you can't fully understand.

Like life isn't complicated enough. You should at least be able to follow the signs.

So it just wasn't in my house. Anywhere, I looked like I knew about the toilet.

But I didn't. I didn't say anything, if only because I had no idea how to respond to such an overture. If my experience with friends was sparse, what I knew about boys- other than a competitors for grades or class rank- was nonexistent

it's a lot easier to be lost than found.

Because it is so hard, in any life, to believe in what you can't fully understand.

Suddenly, I had a flash of him in the car that day, drawing in his breath. Plus the staring at lunch in the green, and the weird way he'd acted at the Vista 10. Oh, God, I thought, finally getting it. Nate was right. He liked me. This was just what I needed.