Quotes About Confusion

Sie waren in einen Irrgarten immergrüner Hecken eingetaucht, und hinter jeder Hecke wartete eine Ecke, wartete eine Ecke, wartete eine Ecke, und dann noch eine Hecke. Nichts als Ecken und Hecken. Unnatürlich.

Qué haré? —dije—. Es una pena suicidarse después de haber vivido noventa y nueve años sin entender nada.

You know that feeling. When you like a boy but then he starts to like you and you stop liking him.

The strict mother she & her brother had grown up with was body-snatched. "...Who are you? What did you do with my mother?

I don't know how I'm supposed to feel. I don't know what to do.' For steps, it's like driving around New York with a map of Boston.

The line between reality and illusion is getting blurry. Sometimes I really do think everyone hates me. Sometimes the crazy is all I've got. My head's pounding again. I hate all this: the pathology and the defiance and the confusion about whether I'm getting better or worse. And yet it is so totally me. I know that none of it ends here tonight. Not by a long shot.

I like Shakespeare, but I never know what the hell is going on.

I don't know how to phrase this exactly but what the fuck?

infinite corridor of panic that led nowhere.

Boys were so unstable that way, full of buggy, self-contradictory code, pathetically unoptimized.

Neither a child nor an adult, neither innocent nor wise. Perhaps that is what a monster is.

At that moment, when he should have been most lucidly present, he had no idea whether he was lying or telling the truth.

And had Eliot really been awake for the whole thing? His brain dealt out a sloppy fan of mental Polaroids, out of sequence: an image of Janet kissing Eliot, of her hand working diligently between Eliot's legs. Had she really been weeping? Had he kissed Eliot? A vivid sense memory of somebody else's stubble, surprisingly scratchy, chafing his cheek and upper lip.

He wondered where this feeling was coming from, that he was improvising his part in a play that everybody else had a script for.

This is life, he kept saying to himself. That was being dead, and this is being alive. That was death, this is life. I will never confuse them again.

The rabbi intones that today is the day that God will put your name in the Book of Life ... or the Book of DEATH. I'm five, and I'm going, "Uhhh, what the f*** is that? The book of WHAT?!?" Death? Death was not anything that had ever occurred to me. My greatest fear was that my parents were going to leave me in a grocery store.

"I can't explain myself, I'm afraid, sir," said Alice, "because I'm not myself, you see.""I don't see," said the Caterpillar.

I love airports because funny things always happen at them. They're giant complexes full of urgency, seriousness, and confusion. Where am I supposed to be? Which way do I go? And that's just the staff.

I don't even know how to use a parking meter, let alone a phone box.

The Gates Foundation has learned that two questions can predict how much kids learn: 'Does your teacher use class time well?' and, 'When you're confused, does your teacher help you get straightened out?'

When I was a kid, I used to think pork chops and karate chops were the same thing.

Politicians used to have the confidence to tell us stories that made sense of the chaos of world events. But now there are no big stories, and politicians react randomly to every new crisis - leaving us bewildered and disorientated.

It might be useful to distinguish between pleasure and joy. But maybe everybody does this very easily, all the time, and only I am confused.

Cut off from his religious, metaphysical and transcendental roots, man is lost; all his actions become senseless, absurd, useless.