Quotes About Confusion

Boys mystified me, although I dreamed vaguely of men.

Men like to create unnecessary organizations and give them impressive or mysterious names; this usually ends in increased confusion, and should therefore be ignored.

I felt obligated by friendship as well as duty to make certain they were comfortably housed. Since men seem to measure comfort by the degree of dirt and confusion that prevails, I deduced that they were very comfortable.

Die Englânder! Niemals werde ich sie verstehen!

Burckhardt fumbled through his notes. "Dakin and

The world is full of people who can't think straight.

She felt locked away in herself, but ignorant of her identity, and often she awoke suddenly in the night, without any idea of who she was; thinking, firstly, that she had died.

He was bewildered, but he still could kiss. It seemed curiously natural to be doing it.

I start to get the feeling that something is really wrong.

And she keeps saying, how can you do this to me? And i want to scream, what do you mean, how can I do this to you? Aren't we confusing our pronouns here? The question, really, is How could I do this to myself?

Oh, Ma, you're looking at all the trees, and I'm not even in the forest.

But day after day of depression, the kind that doesn't seem to merit carting me off to a hospital but allows me to sit here on this stoop in summer camp as if I were normal, day after day wearing down everybody who gets near me. My behavior seems, somehow, not acute enough for them to know what to do with me, though I'm just enough of a mess to be driving everyone around me crazy.

It's a hard time to be human. We know too much and too little.

The corollary of constant change is ignorance. This is not often talked about: we computer experts barely know what we're doing. We're good at fussing and figuring out. We function well in a sea of unknowns. Our experience has only prepared us to deal with confusion. A programmer who denies this is probably lying, or else is densely unaware of himself.

And it was in that moment of distress and confusion that the whip of terror laid its most nicely calculated lash about his heart.

The Daily Telegraph reported next day on how the local authorities were apologizing for not having given enough notice about the film unit's plans to people who lived in the city, and how public confusion and offence had soon shifted to a mass taking of selfies.

The thing is, Iphis and Ianthe had actually, for real, very really, fallen in love. Did their hearts hurt? I said. Did they think they were underwater all the time? Did they feel scoured by light? Did they wander about not knowing what to do with themselves?

He was clearly in love with Amber too, and this time it wasn't the usual water off the back of the duck. Instead, the duck, wounded by a hunter and bewildered because half its head had been shot way, and was still tottering about on its webby feet by the side of the pond. From the one side it looked like a duck usually looks. From the other, it was a different story.

But news right now is like a flock of speeded-up sheep running off the side of a cliff

He turns to go—and that's when he gets kicked in the head by the half of the pantomime horse it's slipped his mind to shoot. He falls to the ground, dead himself on top of the pantomime fallen. It's a surrealist vision of hell. What's surrealist, Mr. Gluck? This is.

Distortion's all that I know.

But there's a pain in lack of reasons.

I am someone who couldn't find her place

And, as usual, you don't really know what you want.