Jane Yolen Quotes

A girl my age had been murdered in these woods and I'd seen her last terrified moments, watched her bleed to death in this forest. A life like mine had ended here, and it didn't matter how many times I'd seen deaths in movies, it wasn't the same, and I wasn't ever going to forget it.

I'd wake up in the morning and I would think, 'Where am I?' I'd have to gather myself.

It was like the first time i saw a cadaver. For weeks afterward the cadavers head, or what was left of it - floated up behind my eggs and bacon at breakfast and in the face of Buddy Willard, who was responsible for my seeing it in the first place, and pretty soon I felt as though I were carrying that cadavers head around with me on a string, like some black, noseless balloon stinking of vinegar.

Hey, if you can't remember, don't worry about it. I'm having a few memory problems myself in this place. Little things like how long I've been here, what my purpose in life is, which feet to put my shoes on. Stuff like that.

Madness strips you of memory and leaves you scrabbling around on the floor of your brain for the snatches and snippets of what happened, what was said, and when.

I don't know their names. Their names have been erased from my memory banks. If I tried to bring 'em back, I'd get shocked.

I compare it to being in a car accident. There's so much adrenaline rushing through you that you remember being in the accident but you don't remember any of the details.

Over a period of 11 months, I was constantly afraid that Youth Care would lock me up. It was all a frightening and traumatic experience. So often, these terrible memories come to me. I can't ignore them.

I'm trying to go over my lines. I woke up on the floor, somebody had me in their arms. I didn't quite know who, people looked so unfamiliar. That's about all I remember.

The name of a man is a numbing blow from which he never recovers.

I woke up and all I could see was Iraqis standing all around me, looking down upon me. I knew at that moment something terrible had happened and I wasn't in the right place.

The bells cease, and the power goes from me, and I descend again to the world of the living; and if in some foolish confiding moment I try to explain why I want to re-live those old days, to tear the Truth out of the past so that all men shall see plainly, perhaps someone will say to me, 'Oh, the War! A tragedy - best forgotten.'

They are shooting at people for reasons they don’t remember.

When I close my eyes, I still see things no one should ever experience: a bright red light, the black cloud soon after, people running in every direction trying desperately to escape - I remember it all.

I absolutely do not think that I have even a vague recollection of what normal life is like.

My memory stops at 14.

We're all painfully aware of how suddenly violence can occur, how crippling it is, and how survivors have to find a way back from that.

Remembering. Forgetting. I'm not sure which is worse.

Continents of memory had been lost.

Right now I’m having amnesia and déjà vu at the same time. I think I’ve forgotten this before.

I've forgotten who I had lunch with earlier, and even more important, where.

I couldn't remember my name for weeks. I'd be at the theater and hear them calling 'Miss Stanwyck, Miss Stanwyck,' and I'd think 'Where is that dame? Why doesn't she answer? By crickie, it's me!

Truthfully I don't remember much about anything after the Olympics 'cause I, I lost everything.

Every time someone forgets, someone else disappears,' my brother wrote.

Forgetting’s not something you do, it happens to you. Only it didn’t happen to me.