Quotes About Complexity

I like flaws. I think they make things interesting.

Life is not straightforward: relationships bifurcate; there is nothing more complicated, more confounding, than love.

You are comprised of a million tiny locks. There's no master key to be found, encased in the plush velvet heart, no matter how desperately you ask someone to reach in and grope around. No matter how hard you try to find it.

I hope you never understand, because I like you. I like you, I like you.

We made love, and then she threw up.

Strophe: They do love him. Everyone loves him. He despises them for it. You'd be no different. Phaedra: You could feel such pleasure.

You get mixed messages because I have mixed feelings.

I have seen the best of you, and the worst of you, and I choose both.

Families are always complicated, even when you're raised with your own kin. The fierceness of the love also creates hurts and rivalries, all mixed up.

India is beyond statement, for anything you say, the opposite is also true. It's rich and poor, spiritual and material, cruel and kind, angry but peaceful, ugly and beautiful, and smart but stupid. It's all the extremes.

India is beyond statement, for anything you say, the opposite is also true. It's rich and poor, spiritual and material, cruel and kind, angry but peaceful, ugly and beautiful, and smart but stupid. It's all the extremes. India defies understanding

My friend Isabel says, When you're writing even a short novel, with at least a couple of subplots, and God only knows how many characters, your brain holds the volume of it beyond the ability of your consciousness. Of course .

Of course language isn't enough.

It was starting to scare me a little, how easy I could read his face and what he did and didn't say. That ain't the same as being able to handle him, and I wasn't even pretending I had any kind of grip on what he might do when he was topside, but I was getting to where I knew his madness like it was an old friend.

There is a terrible weight to that never from Malkar Gennadion, who is also Brinvillier Strych-and who knows how many other names he may have had? Who knows how many lives he may have held and used and discarded, how many other lives he may have left ruined in his wake? I wonder if even Malkar himself knows any longer.

Felix's rather rueful admiration seemed to distress Mildmay even more than his anger had.

As Will Burton says, "pain has a story, a narrative," and knowing it reveals human complexity which is an invitation to decency. When we try to understand, we discover causes, origins, and consequences about each other and our selves.

American history is a quagmire, and the more one knows, the quaggier the mire gets.

Now the world seemed to her to have become so complex that its problems defied solution. There was only a chaos of conflicts of interest; the whole thing filled her with a sense of futility.

Now I feel myself a book, as books must seem to her: she looks at me with unreading eyes, sees the shape, but not the meaning of the text. She marks the white flesh ?'Ain't you pale!' she says ? but not the quick, corrupted blood beneath.

I am a sort of villain, and know other villains best.

Why is it we can never love the people we ought to?

Most people assume there are only three, but assumptions are often wrong. There is more to them than meets the eye.

The world is so complex and overstimulating that you can easily lose your sense of direction. Doing countless unnecessary activities will dissipate your energy.