Quotes About Confusion

Well suppose you were ill at ease and didnt know why. Would that mean that you might be someplace you wasnt supposed to be and didnt know it? What the hell's wrong with you?

Quite suddenly Meggie felt fear rise in her like black brackish water, she felt lost, terribly lost, she felt it in every part of her. She didn't belong here! What had she done?

Her heart pounded as he kissed her. Or was it his heart? She hadn't been able to tell the difference ever since he'd freed her from that trap.

Belive you me, this maze is a labrinth!

Nothing is more frightening then a fear you cannot name.

Ihr Herz schlug so laut, als er sie wieder küsste. Oder war es sein Herz? Seit dem Tag, an dem er sie aus der Falle befreit hatte, konnte sie das nicht mehr wirklich unterscheiden.

You want me to write something about him? Heavens, it was confusing enough when I had only my own characters to worry about!

Por ansiar tanto pela proteção dele, talvez a mãe tenha confundido a fúria sanguinária com autoridade, e a brutalidade com força.

Quando lui la baciò di nuovo, il cuore di Volpe si mise a battere forte. O era quello di Jacob? Dal giorno in cui l'aveva liberata dalla trappola, non li distingueva più veramente.

When in problem, or in doubt, run in cirles, scream and shout

I freely admit I'm confused. I'm a confused and troubled individual but at the same time...Its Free!

When you are lost or looking for someone suspected lost, the CROWDS of people form a threatening undertow undermining your every effort.

The truth was that I didn't know which I was. I wasn't allowed to claim the thing I felt and I didn't feel the thing I was supposed to claim.

I don't get why you'd write scripts for romantic comedies if you think romance is cheesy nonsense." "That's just it, though," I said. "I don't write from a point of clarity. I write out of confusion.

suppressed kind. What I wanted to know (it was useless, and adolescent as well)

Just so I understand—" Noah Brewster said, and the confusion on his face made me wonder if he'd turn out to be one of the ding-dongs.

He was wrong, somehow, and he wanted to be all right, but it was almost as if there was some secret nobody would tell him, so he was always going to be stuck outside.

If they were afloat on the sea, and blind in the fog — they didn't even know what direction they should turn in. What then did it matter that she knew reading and writing, or that he had been caught out in a plot against his overlord?

She thought she loved, she thought she was full of love.

Vaguely she knew herself that she was going to pieces in some way. Vaguely she knew she was out of connection: she had lost touch with the substantial and vital world. Only Clifford and his books, which did not exist... which had nothing in them. Void to void. Vaguely she knew. But it was like beating her head against a stone.

The days passed, the weeks. But everything seemed to have fused, gone into a conglomerated mass. He could not tell one day from another, hardly one place from another. Nothing was distinct or distinguishable. Often he lost himself for an hour at a time, could not remember what he had done.

At least I thought it was a wall. It sure felt like one. It was hard. It was flat. It stretched out on either side of me. You know... wall.

confusion is the main cause of worry

Assume that you are quite right. You are depressed because you have every reason to be depressed. No member of the other two million species which inhabit the earth—and who are luckily exempt from depression—would fail to be depressed if it lived the life you lead. You live in a deranged age—more deranged than usual, because despite great scientific and technological advances, man has not the faintest idea of who he is or what he is doing.