Quotes About Confusion

If I entered a tropical beach, would I end up in Nazi Germany with my highly inconvenient black hair?

I never thought there might be one like you out there. Unaware, untrained. Unbelievable. You have no idea what you are, do you?" "Crazy?

I was adrift in a sea of questions and if answers were lifeboats, I was in imminent danger of drowning.

Christ. Women. I don't get you. I protect you, you get pissy. I don't protect you, you get pissy. I open doors, I'm patronizing. I don't open doors, I'm a caveman, wich by the way, I am. What the bipolar fuck? Beginning to think you babes don't have any clue what you want, or change your mind constantly just to dick with us.

He breaks off and looks at Ryodan. "I think we better show her. Telling her doesn't seem to be working. I thought you said she was smart." "I took Barrons's word for it." "Apparently he was misinformed," Dancer says.

Fuck, I think. Just that. A multitude of various fucks all in one great big clusterfuck. As in: I am fucked if I want this Ã¢â'¬Â¦ this Ã¢â'¬Â¦ newborn imbecile. And she is so fucked if I take her. And fuck if I'm going to walk away.

She says, all serious like, Lor, you're a really sweet guy (who the bloody fuck is she talking about? I'm looking around the bed but it's only me and her)...

I felt like a child plucking daisy petals: I trust him, I trust him not, I trust him, I trust him not.

One minute you think you've got the world by the balls, the next minute you don't know where the fuck the world's balls are." "Sure I do," I say irritably. "Right next to the world's big fat hairy asshole, upon which I seem to be stuck in superglue lately, waiting for it to have its next case of explosive diarrhea.

I feel like I'm stuck in an IFCF." I raised a brow. "Interdimensional Fairy Cluster Fuck," she said sourly.

The unknown is a vast, paralyzing limbo.

I couldn't decide what had been more disturbing—my bizarre hallucination or the hostile crone.

Fuck, I think. Just that. A multitude of various fucks all in one great big clusterfuck.

All I can think is: His head is gone and I don't know how to merge with the Book.

When insane things start to arrange themselves in sane patterns around you, you know you've got problems.

The most confused we ever get is when we're trying to convince our heads of something our heart knows is a lie.

I asked you to leave, Grimm Roderick. What are you still doing here?" she said coolly. "Is that you, Jillian?" He stepped closer, peering through the shadows. "Have so many other women at Caithness demanded you depart that you're suffering confusion about my identity?" she asked sweetly, plunging her shaking hands into the holds of her cloak.

Sometimes I think everybody else in the world knows something I don't know. Like they're all in on some kind of conspiracy and if I just knew that one secret thing, too, the things adults do that baffle me would make perfect sense. Other times I think I know something extra that the whole rest of the world doesn't know and that's why nothing they do makes sense. 'Cause they don't know it and all their actions stem from flawed logic. Unlike mine.

I've never been nonplussed before but I know the definition and I imagine this must be what it feels like. It's not quite flummoxed, or bewildered. Words have subtle nuances. A year or two ago I might have been flabbergasted. This is a slightly different kind of stymied. Yes. I think it's nonplussed.

When insane things start to arrange themselves in sane patterns around you, you know you've got problems. It

I nodded back as if I had some clue what we were nodding about.

As I stare at the White Mansion and I know what parts of it look like inside—and I know there's no way I could know those things—I wonder if I'm a serious nutcase. If none of this is happening, because I'm really locked up in a padded cell somewhere, hallucinating. If so, I hope they change my drugs soon. Whatever I'm on isn't working.

You can have the confounded shield if you love it that much, lass," Dageus said, sounding utterly bewildered.

Hawk couldn't find Adam. He couldn't find Grimm. And now he couldn't find his own wife. What the hell kind of wedding day was this?