Quotes About Confusion

Another metaphorical moral seems built into these two structures, for the maze offers the confusions of free will without a clear destination, the labyrinth an inflexible route to salvation.

Siddalee looked at me like: You liar, Daddy, you big liar. I don't know why I'm thinking

I got dosed by you and Closer than most to you and What am I supposed to do Take it away I never had it anyway

People try to make names for things they don't understand

Muhammad may have been, there is one detail that should not be lost in the tumult and confusion

All was confusion, ignorance, clambering and exhaustion.

Bu kitaptaki her ?ey yanl?? olabilir.

I feel horrible. She doesn't love me and I wander around the house like a sewing machine that's just finished sewing a turd to a garbage can lid.

We looked like a parade barely moving toward YOU MIGHT GET LOST.

It would have compromised his basic approach to life which was to have it as confusing, labyrinth-laden and fucked up as possible.

panegyrics of a man they had never understood

The sum of such chaos was that I seemed to be reading a book that never really started and never quite finished.

It did not mean those things he had been told it meant, that the soldier could now rest, that his job was done. What job? Why? How could anyone rest?

The longer they stayed on, and the better they knew each other, the better she at least could see their mistake, and the more misguided their lives became—like a long proof in mathematics in which the first calculation is wrong, following which all other calculations move you further away from how things were when they made sense.

Such narrowly missed human connection as this can in fact be fatal, no matter who's at fault, and often results in unrecoverable free fall and a too-hasty conclusion that 'the whole goddamn thing's not worth bothering with or it wouldn't be so goddamn confusing all the goddamn time,' after which one party (or both) just wanders off and never thinks to look toward the other again. Such is the iffiness of romance.

And one day you woke up and you found yourself in the very situation you said you would never ever be in, and you did not know what was most important to you anymore. (Sweethearts, 1986)

Rien n'est jamais clair car nous disposons tous d'un éventail de moi parmi lesquels choisir.

Explaining is where we all get into trouble.

According to the psychosurgeons, we act more in keeping with our true selves in a dream than in any other situation, including the throes of orgasm and the moment of our deaths. Maybe that explains why so much of what we do in the real world makes so little sense.

The essence of this detrimental effect is a confusion in the child's concept of his own self-esteem—basic feelings of inferiority, conflict, confusion in his self-image, resentment, hostility towards himself, hostility towards whites, intensification of Ã¢â'¬Â¦ a desire to resolve his basic conflict by sometimes escaping or withdrawing.

Mystification is simple; clarity is the hardest thing of all.

There is a grotesquerie to grief as well. You lose the sense of your existence being rational, or justifiable. You feel absurd.

If you'll excuse a brief history lesson: most people didn't experience 'the sixties' until the seventies. Which meant, logically, that most people in the sixties were still experiencing the fifties--or, in my case, bits of both decades side by side. Which made things rather confusing.

But that was too simple: the idea of a man split into two by a dividing axe. Better: a man crushed into a hundred pieces of rubble, vainly trying to remember how they—he—had once fitted together. —