Quotes About Disorientation

a strange disorientation, as though I no longer knew where I belonged.

A long flight. Jetlag. Immigration. Customs. And then finally, that first step into a new place, that moment of exhilaration and disorientation, each feeding the other. That moment when anything can happen

But you have to admit I wasn't in my right mind. You had just ridden the intelligence right out of me.

She looked left. She looked right. She looked confused.

I clawed my eyes open and rolled off my bed. For some reason, someone had moved the floor several feet lower than I had expected, and I fell and crashed with a thud.

When you lift off, the pressure is supposed to be maximum. But actually, it was very benign. Very enjoyable. But as soon as the engines cut off and you get to zero gravity, you felt as if you were being pushed off your seat. You feel disoriented. You don't feel aligned with anything. I felt for a few good hours that I was falling.

Most of my freshman year at USC, I'd just been partying, and I had zero direction.

You want to try to keep your sleep and meal patterns attached to the time zone that you're in. It's important so you don't feel disoriented. If we take a red-eye and land in Singapore at 8 A.M., we're not going to bed. Force yourself to stay awake, have breakfast, power through the day.

It wants to send us end over end so that what was up will be down.

Although it is tremendously disorienting on one hand, on another, you will never see as clearly as you do when your heart is broken. If you've ever wanted to get at the truth about your life, your character and destiny, the depth of your friendships, you can choose to see these things now.

I curl up, make myself smaller, try to disappear entirely. Wrapped in silence, I slide my bracelet that reads 'mentally disoriented' around and around my wrist.

Where are you? I can still make no sense of my surroundings. Where are you?!

You make me come alive- too alive. It's breathless, like a disaster. Ravishing, like crossing over into the desert and losing your bearings. Nothing's the same again.

The dread and disorientation that persons with poor self-esteem experience when life goes well in ways that conflict with their deepest view of themselves and of what is appropriate to them.

Citra ate, even though she didn't have an appetite. Even though the whole world had slid off its axis. Breakfast was breakfast. How dare it be?

The Rapture of the Nerds has been followed by the Resurrection of the Extremely Confused. (318)

For the person courageous enough to see it out, disorientation always leads to love.

So this is what insanity is. Not goofy behavior, but watching a sudden change in the world you used to know.

The deck appeared to be nothing more than a jumble of ropes and lines. The vessel was filled with objects that seemed to have no discernible purpose. Even the sailors appeared like aliens. They dressed their scarred, often disfigured bodies in strange clothing, ran around the deck barefoot, or scampered aloft like monkeys as they mouthed words that might as well have been Greek:

It was us, I thought. Jamie and me. We had fallen down a rabbit hole, fallen into Susan's house, and nothing made sense, not at all, not anymore.

This small story illustrates three important things about memory: how disorienting it is to realize that a vivid memory, one full of emotion and detail, is indisputably wrong; how even being absolutely, positively sure a memory is accurate does not mean that it is; and how errors in memory support our current feelings and beliefs.

Like much else nowadays I leave it feeling stupid, like a man who lost his way long ago but presses on along a road that may lead nowhere.

You will believe me when I say the life we lead grows less and less distinct from the life we led of Cruso's island. Sometimes I wake up not knowing where I am. The world is full of islands, said Cruso once. His words ring truer every day.

I woke up as the sun was reddening; and that was the one distinct time in my life, the strangest moment of all, when I didn't know who I was—I was far away from home, haunted and tired with travel, in a cheap hotel room I'd never seen, hearing the hiss of steam outside, and the creak of the old wood of the hotel, and footsteps upstairs, and all the sad sounds, and I looked at the cracked high ceiling and really didn't know who I was for about fifteen strange seconds.