Quotes About Confusion

If I asked you where the hell we were,' said Arthur weakly, 'would I regret it?' Ford stood up. 'We're safe,' he said. 'Oh good,' said Arthur. 'We're in a small galley cabin,' said Ford, 'in one of the spaceships of the Vogon Constructor Fleet.' 'Ah,' said Arthur, 'this is obviously some strange usage of the word safe that I wasn't previously aware of.

Ah, this is obviously some strange usage of the word 'safe' that I wasn't previously aware of.

Unfortunately this Electric Monk had developed a fault, and had started to believe all kinds of things, more or less at random. It was even beginning to believe things they'd have difficulty believing in Salt Lake City. It

Unfortunately this Electric Monk had developed a fault, and had started to believe all kinds of things, more or less at random. It was even beginning to believe things they'd have difficulty believing in Salt Lake City. It had never heard of Salt Lake City, of course.

Ah . . . ! What's happening? it thought. Er, excuse me, who am I? Hello? Why am I here? What's my purpose in life? What do I mean by who am I? Calm down, get a grip now . . . oh! this is an interesting sensation, what is it?

Five wild Event Maelstroms swirled in vicious storms of unreason and spewed up a pavement.

Don't pick it up, pick it up, pick i— "Don't pick it up, pick it up, pick i— "Don't pick it up, pick it up, pick i—

He woke up blearily, got up, wandered blearily round his room, opened a window, saw a bulldozer, found his slippers, and stomped off to the bathroom to wash. Toothpaste on the brush—so. Scrub. Shaving mirror—pointing at the ceiling. He adjusted it. For a moment it reflected a second bulldozer through the bathroom window.

I see, said Arthur Dent. He didn't.

The theology of this seemed a little confused, reflected Dirk, but what was one tiny extra droplet of misinformation in such a raging torrent?

Don't stand there looking like a startled whatsisname, what are those things that aren't seals? Much worse than seals. Big, blubbery things. Dugongs. Don't stand there looking like a startled dugong. Why has that . . .

Unfortunately this Electric Monk had developed a fault, and had started to believe all kinds of things, more or less at random. It was even beginning to believe things they'd have difficulty believing in Salt Lake City.

His mouth started to speak, but his brain decided it hadn't got anything to say yet and shut it again. His brain then started to contend with the problem of what his eyes told it they were looking at, but in doing so relinquished control of the mouth which promptly fell open again. Once more gathering up the jaw, his brain lost control of his left hand which then wandered around in an aimless fashion.

I've been busy, said Ford, rather weakly. He staggered to his feet, brushing himself down. Then he thought, what the hell was he saying things weakly for? He had to get on top of this situation.

OK, so the guy is cool, but... I mean own up, this is barking time, this is major lunch, this is stool approaching critical mass, this is... this is... total vocabulary failure!

Ä°lk sav?n sahipleri meselenin bu olmad???n? söylüyorlard?. Meselenin ne olduÄŸuna tam olarak emin deÄŸillerdi, ama bu olmad???n? biliyorlard?.

Try and understand his problem,' insisted Ford. 'Here he is, poor lad, his entire life's work is stamping around, throwing people off spaceships . . .' 'And shouting,' added the guard. 'And shouting, sure,' said Ford patting the blubbery arm clamped round his neck in friendly condescension, '. . . and he doesn't even know why he's doing it!

Miró fijamente los instrumentos con el aire de quien intentara pasar de memoria de la escala Fahrenheit a la centígrada mientras la casa está en llamas.

Su cabeza nadaba a estilo libre, pero en su estómago alguien practicaba el mariposa.

aphod Beeblebrox crawled bravely along a tunnel, like the hell of a guy he was. He was very confused, but continued crawling doggedly anyway because he was that brave.

Trillian had come to suspect that the main reason he had had such a wild and successful life was that he never really understood the significance of anything he did. "Zaphod," she said patiently

What's he saying?" asked Trillian. "Nothing," said Zaphod, "he just phoned to wash his head at us.

He stumbled uncertainly after her. The encircling torch beams were drooping now slightly as if they were abdicating to this strange, quiet girl who alone in this Universe of dark confusion seemed to know what she was doing.

He was staring at the instruments with the air of one who is trying to convert Fahrenheit to centigrade in his head while his house is burning down.