Jennifer Beals Quotes

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.

There are times, they occur with increasing frequency nowadays, when I seem to know nothing, when everything I know seems to have fallen out of my mind like a shower of rain, and I am gripped for a moment in paralysed dismay, waiting for it all to come back but with no certainty that it will.

I walk into rooms and I don't know why I'm there. I'm like, 'Why am I standing in front of the toilet now?'

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

You suddenly find yourself somewhere and you wonder, how did I get in this room? That happens to me all the time, every day!

What's clarity like? Try to remember that funny feeling inside your head when you had math problems too difficult to solve: the faint buzzing noise in your ears, a heaviness on both sides of your skull, and the sensation that your brain is twitching inside your cranium like a fish on the beach. This is the opposite sensation of clarity. Yet for many people of my era, as they aged, this sensation became the dominant sensation of their lives. It was as though day-to-day twentieth century living had become an unsolvable algebraic equation.

Just when I nearly had the answer, I forgot the question.

The episodes all blend together for me, so I don't remember. I can't even remember what I had for breakfast this morning. I always feel I must be such a disappointment to them.

I didn't know what was going through my mind.

My great frustration is that, more and more, my memories come and go, and friends all my life are not recognized. Many of the things I say and do, I can no longer remember even right afterwards.

I don't know what I have said. I have answered so many questions and I am so confused I don't know one thing from another. I am telling you just as nearly as I know.

There have been times that I have found myself in places, and I don't know how I got there, and I don't actually know where I am.

Right now I'm having amnesia and deja vu at the same time.

Whether it's my age or my misspent youth, sometimes I forget whether I've worked with somebody or not.

The memory loss made me jittery at times.

It's a weakness of mine to forget what it is I've just been talking about so that when people make witty allusions to it, I stare at them open-mouthed, not knowing what they're talking about.

Time is just a blur for me. I don't know what - I don't even know where I am sometimes.

Perhaps it would have been easier if I said that not being able to find something is like suddenly not remembering the words to your favorite song that you knew by heart. It’s like suddenly forgetting the name of someone you know really well and see every day, or the name of a television show you watched for years. It’s something so frustrating that it plays on your mind over and over again because you know there’s an answer but no one can tell you it. It niggles and niggles at me and I can’t rest until I know the answers.

There's a meeting in Command. Disregard your current schedule,' he says. 'Done,' I say. 'Did you follow it at all today?' he asks in exasperation. 'Who knows? I'm mentally disoriented.' I hold up my wrist to show my medical bracelet and realize it's gone. 'See? I can't even remember they took my bracelet.' (Katniss and Boggs)

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

I need some meaning I can memorize. The kind I have always seems to slip my mind.

I don't remember lighting this cigarette and I don't remember if I'm here alone or waiting for someone.

Insanity - to have to construct a picture of one's life, by making inquiries of others.

Though I leave the house as little as possible, I have the impression that someone is disturbing my papers. More than once I have discovered that some pages were missing from my manuscripts. A few days afterward I would find the pages in their place again. But often I no longer recognize my manuscripts, as if I had forgotten what I had written, or as if overnight I were so changed that no longer recognized myself in the self of yesterday.

I don't even know my own phone number.