Quotes About Confusion

Realborn go for years without the slightest clue what they're going to do with themselves. From what I understand, some of them never actually figure it out. They just walk through life in a daze and then fall into their graves at the end of it.

Then: "What time is it in Arizona?" "It's two hours behind here, so about eight thirty," I said. "Maybe. Arizona is weird about time zones.

Well, isn't that just like religion for you, Archie," he said. "One day it's a nice way to spend your weekends and the next you're in the middle of a righteous theological clusterfuck.

You are, at least to a certain approximation, human. You're not supposed to be here.

What the hell?" she asked, after a moment. "Lovely," Wilson said, looking at the display. "And by 'lovely,' I mean 'Oh, crap.

Wow, really?" I said, before I could stop myself. "I used the wrong word, didn't I," Davidson said, looking at me. "I can never remember if 'clank' or 'threep' is the word I'm not supposed to be using today.

Watson didn't know what hit him. The last thing he sent through his BrainPal channel was a wash of emotion that could best be described as disoriented puzzlement, the mild surprise of someone who knows he's seeing something he wasn't expecting but hasn't figured out what it is. Then his connection was cut off, like a data feed suddenly unexpectedly shut down.

Whoever had my room last left a big pile of poopfruit on my desk, Niamh yelled, from their room. Seriously, what the actual fuck?

Duvall sighed. "Anatoly," she said. "It's me." "Maia?" Kerensky said. "They got you too. Don't worry. I won't let these bastards do anything to you. Do you hear me, you sons of bitches?" Hester looked over to Dahl disbelievingly. Dahl shrugged. "Anatoly," Maia said, more forcefully. "They didn't get me too." "What?" Kerensky said. Then, after a minute, "Oh.

In the lobby, the receptionist had attached herself to Hester, sobbing in joy. Hester stood there, wearing a receptionist, deeply confused.

When you're a teenager and you're in love, it's obvious to everyone but you and the person you're in love with," I said. "Don't ask me why. It just works that way.

So you see, a man's history when other folks tell it is a pitiful confusion.

In marching, in mobs, in football games, and in war, outlines become vague; real things become unreal and a fog creeps over the mind. Tension and excitement, weariness, movement--all merge in one great gray dream, so that when it is over, it is hard to remember how it was when you killed men or ordered them to be killed. Then other people who were not there tell you what it was like and you say vaguely, yes, I guess that's how it was.

My town had grown and changed and my friend along with it. Now returning, as changed to my friend as my town was to me, I distorted his picture, muddied his memory. When I went away I had died, and so became fixed and unchangeable. My return caused only confusion and uneasiness.

I guess she's just nuts,' he said. 'And if she's nuts, a guy's got to do nuts things. You don't think you could say the hell with her?

What the hell kind of bed you giving us, anyways? We don't want no pants rabbits.

I'll tell ya one thing -- the jail house is jus' a kind a way a drivin' a guy slowly nuts. See? An' they go nuts, an' you see 'em an' hear 'em, an' pretty soon you don' know if you're nuts or not. When they get to screamin' in the night sometimes you think it's you doin' the screamin'--an' sometimes it is.

When Mary is confused or perplexed, she spurts anger the way an octopus spurts ink, and hides in the dark cloud of it.

Tom's cowardice was as huge as his courage, as it must be in great men. His violence balanced his tenderness, and himself was a pitted battlefield of his own forces. He was confused now, but Dessie could hold his bit and point him, the way a handler points a thoroughbred at the barrier to show his breeding and his form.

Adam fluttered like a bewildered bee confused by too many flowers.

No. No—only a kind of sinking in the heart. Maybe later I'll sort it out to hatred. There was no interval from loveliness to horror, you see. I'm confused, confused.

Why did it revolt me and leave a taste like a spoiled egg? Am I so good, or so kind, or so just? I don't think so. Am I so proud? Well, there's some of that. Am I lazy, too lazy to be involved? There;s an awful lot of inactive kindness which is nothing but laziness, not wanting any trouble, confusion, or effort.

Lee asked, "How does Mrs. Hamilton feel about the paradoxes of the Bible?" "Why, she does not feel anything because she does not admit they are there." "But—" "Hush, man. Ask her. And you'll come out of it older but not less confused." Adam

This is the greatest mystery of the human mind—the inductive leap. Everything falls into place, irrelevancies relate, dissonance becomes harmony, and nonsense wears a crown of meaning. But the clarifying leap springs from the rich soil of confusion, and the leaper is not unfamiliar with pain.