Best 876 quotes in «confusion quotes» category

It is difficult to love someone who loves you, but easy to hate someone who loves you, and love someone who hates you.

It is easier to exploit and manipulate people if they are fearful or confused, (and discouraged from trusting their own judgment). Our investigation identifies the ‘policy of prohibition’ as a major source of ignorance, fear and confusion concerning psychoactive substances, their uses, users, effects and outcomes.

It is not in the gene of an Intellectually blinded person to experience the paradise in the writer's imagination.

It may be prodigious, but it's all Greek to me!

I trusted you with my scars But now I'm bleeding Said I was your moon and you were the stars You're so deceiving I trusted you with my scars But now I'm bleeding The wound is deep Blood is seeping

It’s for the best. But no matter how many times I repeat it, the strange, hollow feeling in my stomach doesn’t go away. And ridiculous as it is, I can’t shake the persistent, needling feeling that I’ve forgotten something, or missed something, or lost something forever.

It's like having explosives on board 24/7, the way I feel. I can't believe when I touch things they don't blow to bits. I can't believe I was so way off. I thought, I don't know, I thought wrong.

It's okay to not know who you are and what you want. Those with the answers are usually very happy in their own stuck-ness

I, uh, didn't mean to upset everyone." "Didn't you though?" he spoke softly. "You seem to have a habit of coming in like a storm and leaving a path of destruction and confusion in your wake.

It’s pretty confusing.” “Good. Be confused. Confusion is where inspiration comes from.

I want to say more, but don't know what the words are supposed to be. I feel such a tenderness for these vulnerable night-time conversations, the way words take a different shape in the air when there's no light in the room.

I've a long time trying to love a brother whose only way of touching me is pain. A long time escaping into music. Practice, lessons, rehearsals that protect me from the hurting parts of life. I've been winning awards, applause, acclaim for my trumpets since I was in grade school. But love? The word catches in my throat. Do I love anything? Have i forgotten how?

I’ve learned to get really good at this—say one thing when I’m thinking about something else, act like I’m listening when I’m not, pretend to be calm and happy when really I’m freaking out. It’s one of the skills you perfect as you get older. You have to learn that people are always listening. [...] Sometimes I feel as though there are two me’s, one coasting directly on top of the other: the superficial me, who nods when she’s supposed to nod and says what she’s supposed to say, and some other, deeper part, the part that worries and dreams and says “Gray.” Most of the time they move along in sync and I hardly notice the split, but sometimes it feels as though I’m two whole different people and I could rip apart at any second.

I've got to be willing to enter into and do battle with the confusion in order to reach the victory on the other side. It's like, I am here, confusion is in front of me, and just beyond confusion waits the answer or skill I need to take my life in a new and incredible direction.

Mad is a label we attach to people we find disruptive and confusing.

Love is merely a combination between infatuation and confusion.

I wondered how I could appear so whole and serene on the outside when inside I was thrashing with turbulence.

I wonder if anybody else feels this way, if anyone in here is as scared as I am. Are they as sad and angry and confused and ashamed? Is that even possible? Is it even possible for one building to hold all that pain?

La vida es un pequeño espacio de luz entre dos nostalgias: la de lo que aún no has vivido y la de lo que ya no vas a poder vivir. Y el momento justo de la acción es tan confuso, tan resbaladizo y tan efímero que lo desperdicias mirando con aturdimiento alrededor.

…Look, I’m real sorry about Cheryl, I know you loved her a lot,” Mandy apologized gloomily. “It’s wrong that people have to keep killing off Pollution.” “It’s alright, I think she wants to be remediated,” Alecto told her calmly, though his grief-stricken and depressed expression said more to Mandy than his words did. “You don’t have to forget Cheryl, no matter what Mearth said to you,” Mandy pointed out. “People shouldn’t be forced to forget what they love, or to just get over the death of what they love. Cheryl was your friend and nobody can make you forget her if you don’t want to.

love made me feel like I knew the answer, but when I raised my hand, I was the only one in the room. What I mean is, have you ever felt the ache of swallowing starlight? that cinnamon burn?

Mandy would much rather have imaginary friends who were real than real friends who were imaginary.

Many of the confusions, conflicts, and disarrays that are rampant in today’s organizations, communities, and nations could have been avoided if leaders have solid self-awareness...

Monotheism and an absolute God define one another. The absolute is a mental construct, an abstract mental model. The absolute, whether it is a purest abstract essence or an extreme abstract measure, only exists in our minds as an abstraction. Furthermore, the absolute will only lead to the abandon of all measure and blind us to the relative interdependence of all things. The measure of knowledge of life is the knowledge of the measure of this relative interdependence.

Men often want to be known as gods, or, at the very least, to be their own gods; and indeed, they most definitely act as though they are gods...Which is to say: exigent, sure gods of (mass) confusion. In a political sense the liberal man is like one shouting over the voice of God thus making it difficult to hear God; the conservative man is like one standing in the way of God, making it difficult to see God.

Mistasinon stood as the music of life flowed around him, the instrument of his agency muted.

Meanwhile there was work to do: raising our children, wading through a mass of legal papers, finances, and taxes, and recovering the professional life that was now our sole support, while, at a subterranean level, feeling adrift in dark, unknown waters. And though I'd flared with anger when the priest at Heinz's funeral had warned not to be "angry at God" because of his sudden and violent death, I struggled not to sink under currents of fear, anger, and confusion that roiled an ocean of grief.

My journal has become a paper mirror, a topographic map to my mind. It is where I go to sort out confusion and decipher the invisible.

My mind, brightened by the lights and the cheerful tumult, suddenly grasped the fact that all achievement was a placing of emphasis-- a moulding of the confusion of life into form.

No hay hombres ni mujeres confundidos cuando realmente quieren a alguien. La confusión proviene de no tenerlo claro e intentar poner orden en lo que uno siente.

Never make the mistake of thinking you are alone — or inconsequential. Ignorance is voluntary and confusion is temporary. You see the world as-is, which is more than can be said for the vast populace.

Night is the struggle within ourselves.

Nightmares are not dreams. A good dream does not leave the dreamer in darkness, confusion and terror. Start having dreams, not nightmares!

No matter what there always seems to be something clouding my existence, nothing is ever clear.

One way to be sure you are not making the wrong decision, is to look vertically upwards

Now," said Benjy mouse, "to business." Ford and Zaphod clinked their glasses together. "To business!" they said. "I beg your pardon?" said Benjy. Ford looked round. "Sorry, I thought you were proposing a toast," he said.

One major factor that makes most achievers to fail is their ability to know where they are going and becoming unaware of what they will have to do when they get there!

One who walks in blindness and confusion cries out more than one who knows why he is suffering.

Nothing made sense. Every decision felt wrong. Every direction I looked led down a path I was unaware about. For years I have worked toward one goal, stayed focused on one place I wanted to get. But now that goal felt like it wasn't quite right.

Now I'm dreaming, will I ever find you now? I walk in circles but I'll never figure out What I mean to you, do I belong I try to fight this but I know I'm not that strong And I feel so helpless here Watch my eyes are filled with fear Tell me do you feel the same Hold me in your arms again I need your love I need your time When everything's wrong You make it right I feel so high I come alive I need to be free with you tonight I need your love

Om is the presence which steals away. It steals away the ordinary mundane existence of strife, struggle and duality; it steals away anxiety, aggression, fear, grief and sorrow; it steals away the debris of anger, hatred, confusion and ignorance, to fill us with the nectar of joy, immortality and life eternal.

Outside, he had a sudden feeling that at moments there was too much light for human eyes. It caused men to feel weak and befuddled.

Our great mistake in education is, as it seems to me, the worship of book-learning–the confusion of instruction and education. We strain the memory instead of cultivating the mind. The children in our elementary schools are wearied by the mechanical act of writing, and the interminable intricacies of spelling; they are oppressed by columns of dates, by lists of kings and places, which convey no definite idea to their minds, and have no near relation to their daily wants and occupations; while in our public schools the same unfortunate results are produced by the weary monotony of Latin and Greek grammar. We ought to follow exactly the opposite course with children–to give them a wholesome variety of mental food, and endeavor to cultivate their tastes, rather than to fill their minds with dry facts. The important thing is not so much that every child should be taught, as that every child should be given the wish to learn. What does it matter if the pupil know a little more or a little less? A boy who leaves school knowing much, but hating his lessons, will soon have forgotten almost all he ever learned; while another who had acquired a thirst for knowledge, even if he had learned little, would soon teach himself more than the first ever knew.

Or deep down, maybe there was more. Maybe I wanted someone to figure out who wrote the note and secretly come to my rescue. Maybe. I don’t know. But I was careful never to give myself away.

Pain, or pleasure. I could not tell where one ended and the other began.

Polly Partial handed me a piece of paper printed on all sides with confusing times and locations. It looked like a herd of numbers having a square dance. I would rather have reread her book [To Kill a Mockingbird] than Stain'd-by-the-Sea's confusing train schedule, but just barely.

Perfection: a collection of a variety of pieces that, when viewed and felt individually, are difficult and confusing; but when brought together as one, create a perfect picture. Symphony, harmony, serenity.

Past memories strobed before him, flashes of joy blackened by the present. Reality teased, then beckoned, home likewise. Confusion dimmed, the answer clear. This could end. Would end. In one of two ways. Still he refused, not ready for either.

People Always Confuse Between To become What..? or To Become Whose...?

PS…… confused from where you should start planning……. !! Well, start from who you are, where you are and how you are.