You know so much about me and yet you don't understand me. To know is not to understand. We could know everything and still not understand anything.
Understand me. I’m not like an ordinary world. I have my madness, I live in another dimension and I do not have time for things that have no soul.
I thank you for my friends, for those who understand me better than I understand myself. For those who know me at my worst, and still like me. For those who have forgiven me when I had no right to expect to be forgiven. Help me to be as true to my friends as I would wish them to be to me.
I have no time for things that have no soul.
But you people do not understand me, and I am afraid you never will.
I love life. But it is hard and I have so much, so very much to learn.
I don't understand you. You don't understand me. What else do we have in common?
If you do not want what I want, please try not to tell me that my want is wrong. Or if my beliefs are different from yours, at least pause before you set out to correct them. Or if my emotion seems less or more intense than yours, given the same circumstances, try not to ask me to feel other than I do. Or if I act, or fail to act, in the manner of your design for action, please let me be. I do not, for the moment at least, ask you to understand me. That will come only when you are willing to give up trying to change me into a copy of you.
Nobody understands me, I'm really sensitive.
I don't want to be understood because if people understand me, they get tired of me.
I really do wish people could understand me some day.
I understand that nobody understands me, but I can't be someone I'm not.
I don't know how much of a natural human I am. Y'know, the truth is, I never set out to do that, and I don't think of myself like that. I don't think like that. It's not really about promotion - I don't really understand the idea of promotion, talking to a camera for more money. That's just money. And I like money, don't get me wrong. I don't know. I don't get it. I don't understand it as much as you don't understand me, I think.
Nobody would know me from my own description of myself; which is why, when called upon (rarely, I grant) to provide an account, I tailor it, I adapt, I try to provide an outline that can, in some way, correlate to the outline that people understand me to have -- that, I suppose, I actually have, at this point. But who I am in my head, very few people really get to see that. Almost none. It's the most precious gift I can give, to bring her out of hiding.
The whole world may not understand me, but I don’t care.
Everyone likes me, yet nobody understands me.
Throughout my career, I fed off the fuel of people not being able to understand me.
Every man carries his kingdom within, and no one knows what is taking place in another's kingdom. 'No one understands me!' Of course they don't, each one of us is a mystery. There is only One Who understands you, and that is God. Hand yourself over to Him.
The people are applauding you because none of them understands you and applauding me because everybody understands me.
On the contrary, I'm a universal patriot, if you could understand me rightly: my country is the world.
People understand me so poorly that they don't even understand my complaint about them not understanding me.
I always felt that nobody was going to understand me, going to understand what I felt about things. I guess that's why I started writing. At least on paper I could put down what I thought.
Even trees understand me! Good heavens, I lie under them, too, don't I? I'm just like a pile of leaves.
If you wish to understand me at all (and to write an autobiography is only to open a window into one's heart) you must understand first and foremost, that I am an Australian.
It's not important to me that people understand me.
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