Quotes About Confusion

the semantics of words is an intellectual mess.

By the glare of false science betrayd, That leads to bewilder, and dazzles to blind.

This makes no sense. None of it does. But maybe that's the point. Maybe the things that make the least amount of sense are the things you're supposed to do. I don't know. - I look at him, looking back at me. - But one thing I know: I'm not crazy for feeling this way. They're crazy for trying to stop me. And if it's the last time I ever get to feel joy again, I won't let them have it.

results of such profound confusion between art and life are neither life nor art. They are taxidermy.

What's going on?" Newt asked, looking back and forth between Thomas and Aris. "Why're you guys looking at each other like you just fell in love?

And then they were kissing. Something exploded within his chest burning away the tension and confusion and fear. Burning away the hurt of seconds earlier. For a moment it felt like nothing mattered anymore. Like nothing would matter ever again.

Wonder why we can do this,' he called out with his mind. The mental effort of speaking to her was already straining—he felt a headache forming like a bulge in his brain. 'Maybe we were lovers,' Teresa said. Thomas tripped and crashed to the ground. Smiling sheepishly at Minho, who'd turned to look without slowing, Thomas got back up and caught up to him. 'What?' he finally asked. He sensed a laugh from her, a watery image full of color.

Reason we're here is because almost every lovin' kid in the Glade has come up to me in the last day or two either boohooing about Thomas or beggin' to take his bloody hand in marriage...

Thomas swallowed, wondering how he could ever go out there. His desire to become a Runner had taken a major blow. But he had to do it. Somehow he KNEW he had to do it. It was such an odd thing to feel, especially after what he'd just seen... Thomas knew he was a smart kid- he somehow felt it in his bones. But nothing about this place made any sense. Except for one thing. He was supposed to be a Runner. Why did he feel that so strongly? And even now, after seeing what lived in the maze?

He felt empty and lost like he didn't belong anywhere.

I'm so scared of going crazy. I can already feel it happening. Things look weird, sound weird. Out of the blue I'll start thinking about stuff that doesn't make any sense. Sometimes the air around me feels... hard. I don't even know what that means, but it's scary. I'm definitely starting. The Flare's taking my brain to hell.

We're all going a little craz—" He stopped; he couldn't possibly say anything worse. "I mean …" "Just shut it," Newt said. "I know something's started in my head. I don't feel right. But you don't need to worry your buggin' panties off.

Minho clucked his tongue. "Who cares about that? What's this freakin' stuff about her being the Betrayer?" "And what's 'Group A, Subject A1' mean?" This was Newt, who handed over the fire extinguisher to Thomas. "Anyway, your turn to break a buggin' door handle.

You can't be serious." Thomas could only nod. Minho's shoulders slumped, and his eyes fell to the floor. "How did the world get so shucked?" The words barely came out, low and full of pain. "I'm sorry," Newt said, and there were tears streaming down his face. "I'm … I'm going to shoot if you don't go. Now.

Where are we going?" Thomas asked, still feeling the weight of seeing those walls close, thinking about the maze, the confusion, the fear. He hold himself to stop or he'd drive himself crazy. Trying to grasp a sense of normalcy, he made a weak attempt at a joke. "If you're looking for a goodnight kiss, forget it.

I like how you call me Tom." Teresa rolled her eyes. "That's your name, isn't it?" "Yeah, but most people call me Thomas. Well, except Newt – he calls me Tommy. Tom makes me feel … like I'm at home or something. Even though I don't know what home is." He let out a bitter laugh. "Are we messed up or what?

En su mente y en su corazón se había desencadenado una batalla de emociones. Confusión. Curiosidad. Pánico. Miedo. Pero mezclada con todo eso, había una oscura sensación de absoluta desesperanza, como si el mundo se hubiera acabado, borrado de su cabeza, y hubiese sido reemplazado por algo terrible. Quería correr y esconderse de esa gente.

Look," Thomas said, pointing down the line of stacks they'd formed, confused, but happy that the letters were so obvious. "It spells FLOAT and then it spells CAT." "Float cat?" Newt asked. "Doesn't sound like a bloody rescue code to me.

They were boys, all of them—some young, some older. Thomas didn't know what he'd expected, but seeing those faces puzzled him. They were just teenagers.

Things are really weird around here, and most of us don't know everything. Half of everything.

But what about all those dead people we saw? Maybe they rescued us for real, got killed, and now we're screwed. Maybe we were supposed to do something, but now it's all been messed up and we've been left here to die.

Thomas was sick of being accused of knowing things.

We can't try to outguess them anymore. Sometimes they do things just to make me do the opposite of what they think I think they think I want to do." "Huh?" the three of them asked at the same time, confusion transforming their faces.

Parece un laberinto —susurró Thomas, casi riéndose para sus adentros. Como si las cosas no pudieran ponerse más raras. Le habían borrado la memoria y le habían metido en un laberinto gigante. Era una locura tan grande que hasta le hacía gracia.