Quotes About Confusion

But...that doesn't make any sense...!' 'It does if you're a goat.

But if it was going to end, she wondered, feeling confusion starting to fog her mind, why had he kissed her?

Your assumptions are just as wild as your confusion.

There's somthing inside me that pulls beneath the surface. Consuming. Confusing. This lack of self-control I fear is never ending. Controlling. I can't seem To find myself again, My walls are closing in (Without a sense of confidence, I'm convinced that there's just too much pressure to take) I felt this way before... So insecure..

The order of Fungi is still Chaos, a scandal of art, no botanist knowing what is a Species and what is a Variety.

The real trouble comes from not knowing what we really want in the first place.

I'd get this, I luuuuuuuv you, buddy! stuff, and I'd just look at him like, Who are you talking to, guy? What does that mean, your dad 'loves' you and hasn't a [bleep]ing clue who you are? What's he love then? Some kid in Happy Days. Not me.

I kept scrabbling around in myself for this new indescribable emotion, like stirring a crowded silverware drawer for the potato peeler, but no matter how I rattled around, no matter what I moved out of the way, it wasn't there. The potato peeler is always in the drawer after all. It's under the spatula, it's slipped into the fold of the food-processor guarantee -

Later these thoughts would come back to haunt me, though I could not have anticipated that your compulsion to manhandle your unruly, misshapen experience into a tidy box, like someone trying to cram a wild tangle of driftwood into a hard-shell Samsonite suitcase, as well as this sincere confusion of the is with the ought to be—your heartrending tendency to mistake what you actually had for what you desperately wanted—would produce such devastating consequences.

He appeared to believe that because the university owed him his salary, it would ipso facto pay his salary, in a confusion of should and will that bordered on dyslexic.

You know that feeling when you're suddenly startled out of a deep sleep, and you're in that hazy middle world where you're not sure what's real—like maybe you actually could be chasing after an ice cream truck wearing only fishing waders and a canary yellow bridesmaid's dress, or you're just one answer away from winning a year's supply of adult diapers on a Japanese game show? —SINGLE-MINDED

There is a breed of men out there, you know, who are attracted to strong women. They just don't know what to do once they win us over.

It just didn't make a helluva lot of sense.

didn't know who else to turn to. It gives the person you're trying to manipulate nowhere to go.

I feel – Jesus. I feel like I don't know you, Rachel. I feel like I married a fucking stranger.

Just that. What? What did it mean? What did any of it mean? Did it mean he was sorry? Did it mean she should forgive him? Or that he had forgiven her? Who was right? Who was wrong?

you. We didn't have sex for the last ten days of our holiday, you said you thought you'd married a fucking stranger, and now you're acting like none of that ever happened. You're … you're … offering me wine and … and stirring things. I just don't understand. I don't understand what's happening

tell you what – I just lost the plot – totally. I

Yes. I know. I look like you. Crazy, eh? Can you believe it? What sort of sad loser spends his whole adult life pretending to be someone he was in love with when he was a child? You know, I even call myself Phin sometimes. Isn't that pathetic?' Phin nods, then shakes his head, then says, 'Yes. That is pretty fucked up. What are you doing here? What do you want?

They don't know who the prime minister is; they don't know what day of the week, month or even year it is. They can't quite remember their daughters' names and they certainly can't remember if they had lunch today or what the plan is for supper tonight.

She tries to claw back the stolen half-hour, but her adrenaline is pumping again; her husband went somewhere last night and has woken up in his friend's flat and doesn't know what happened in between. Her husband, who has a career and a mortgage and two children to think about. Her husband, who is forty-five.

He clutches his head. 'This is … this is insane, Lula. This isn't you. You're not fucking gay. This is her. She's done this to you. She's fucking groomed you. Can you not see that? She's groomed you.

I've never known anyone more ill equipped for happiness. He wouldn't know what to do with it.

But I hadn't known what love was. And I wondered how you could ever be sure, when you thought you loved someone, if you really did.