Quotes About Confusion

Theo knew enough about women and their clothes to recognize she was trying to strike an appropriate balance between... what? Between liking him and hating him? Between wanting to look good and not wanting to look too available? Just because he knew a mixed message when he saw one didn't mean he knew exactly which messages were being mixed

Rumors have dogged the course of the Anford presidency, his infrequent appearances and moments of public confusion leading to rumors that he is suffering from a brain tumor or degenerative muscular disorder. The White House claims this latest round of tests is merely part of a routine medical checkup, and doctors at Bethesda Naval Hospital are, as usual, silent on the state of the president's health. . . .

We were already fucked so many ways they could have dedicated an entire revision of the Kama Sutra just to us.

In India an explanation is often more confusing than what prompted it.

What the fuck was up with a guy like that? What kind of message was he trying to send? To Kovac, a sweater tied around the neck said gay. Not that he gave a shit. It was just an observation. But then there were these metro guys -- or whatever the hell the fashionable people called them now. Sweater around the neck, manicures, and facials. Mixed messages. He never quite trusted a guy who sent mixed messages. Have a girlfriend or have a boyfriend. Pick a side.

I'm sorry, she said humbly. I haven't wanted to lie to you. I should hope so. You're the worst liar I've ever met. He thought about it for a moment, then added, --or the best. Now I'm all confused.

There were real advantages to having a father who didn't care what she did. But if the advantages were so wonderful, why did she feel like crying?

Strange, that when we feel we understand all things, we understand nothing. Strange, that when we feel we understand nothing we have begun, at last, to understand.

I see that. Where am I?' 'You are quite secure, Rachaela. You have all of us.' Rachaela quailed. 'But you're all mad.' Anna smiled her smile. 'What can I say to that.

Confound you, what are you? A daisy crossed with a razor-some kind of hybrid of Heaven and the Pit?

She did not understand what to do; she did not understand herself. All the amorphous pain that had welled up in her before, all that longing without a name, had now found a name, and with a name it was no better.

The question was now blatant and astonishingly unanswerable. Had they been a boy and a gentleman in the roles of a girl and lady in the roles of a boy and a gentleman? Which? Either? Both?

She did not understand what to do; she did not understand herself. All the amorphous pain that had welled up in her before, all that longing without a name, and with a name it was no better.

If she does call, would you please explain to her that turning the sofa into a pygmy hippo for the afternoon might be very good transfiguration, but it's rather hard on the carpets and it confuses the hippo.

Bewilderment increases in the presence of the mirrors.

It was her false self that was confused, thinking that it knew what ugly was and stewing in it, trying to be good enough when there was no such thing. The ugliness had been corrected a long time ago through forgiveness. It was time to forgive herself and surrender to the truth. She

At first Welsh just stared, as did Ryan. But when the meaning of what this room might hold for him formed in Welsh's mind, he protested with a wide-eyed grunt.

We watched him go, stunned and confused. At least I did. What he said made sense in my old way of being. Sylous was an angel, sent with the word of God to the elect. He had to be.

He was his own leftover, the spat-out scrag. He was what his brain could make nothing of.

And just to complicate matters, autistic people seem to get visual cues mixed up with aural cues. Normally when a person is listening, the visual cortex gets turned down. But a 2012 fMRI study found that when autistics were listening to sound cues, their visual cortices remained more active than neurotypicals'. If that's the case, then even while they're straining to process aural cues, they're being distracted and confused by visual cues.

I'll be all right in a minute, I'm just bewildered - by life...

at sixes and sevens

Questions swirled in my brain like terrified bait minnows in a bucket.

Sometimes I'd catch myself looking at my reflection in windows and wonder who I was. Where I was going. Then the image would change and it wouldn't be me, just some nebulous shadow person.