ŷ������

“The word “repurpose��
means to take an object
and give it amnesia.

It means to make something forget what
it’s been trained to do so you can
use it for a better reason.

I am learning that this body is not a shotgun.
I am learning that this body is not a pistol.
I am learning that a man is not defined by what he can destroy.

I am learning that a person
who only knows how to fight
can only communicate in violence
and that shouldn’t be anyone’s first language.

I am learning that the difference between
a garden and a graveyard is only what
you choose to put in the ground.”
― Rudy Francisco, Helium

“We have all read in scientific books, and, indeed, in all romances, the story of the man who has forgotten his name. This man walks about the streets and can see and appreciate everything; only he cannot remember who he is. Well, every man is that man in the story. Every man has forgotten who he is. One may understand the cosmos, but never the ego; the self is more distant than any star. Thou shalt love the Lord thy God; but thou shalt not know thyself. We are all under the same mental calamity; we have all forgotten our names. We have all forgotten what we really are. All that we call common sense and rationality and practicality and positivism only means that for certain dead levels of our life we forget that we have forgotten. All that we call spirit and art and ecstasy only means that for one awful instant we remember that we forgot.”
― G.K. Chesterton, Orthodoxy

“Releasing her wrist, he raised his shaking hand and brushed disheveled auburn hair back from her face. Her features were relaxed in sleep. Dirt-smudged. Damp with the tears she had shed for him.
At his touch, she made a sound somewhere in the back of her throat and snuggled closer with a sigh.
He didn't know who she was.
He didn't know who he was.
But in that moment, he loved her for freeing him.
The dog voiced a plaintive whine.
Speech still eluding him, he sent feelings of calm to the loyal animal.
Then, taking the woman's small, pale hand in his, he tucked it against his chest, pressed his forehead to hers, and succumbed to a deep healing sleep.”
― Dianne Duvall, Awaken the Darkness

“Cradling her to his chest, he cursed himself for taking too much blood. He was certain he hadn't taken enough for her to need a transfusion, but it had clearly left her weak.
"I'm so sorry," he whispered, glad she hadn't found the deed in his thoughts. He had feared he wouldn't be able to hide it from her.
The dog began to whine again.
"It's okay, boy," he murmured. "She's okay. She's just tired."
Several minutes passed while he stroked her hair and held her close despite the pain it caused. She was petite and looked as though she only weighed about a hundred pounds. After spending all damned night digging his sorry ass up, no wonder she passed out.
"I haven't seen it yet," she mumbled against his neck as consciousness returned, "but I'm willing to bet your ass is actually quite nice."
Startled laughter escaped him, inspiring another groan. "Don't make me laugh. It hurts too much."
"Sorry. I couldn't resist.”
― Dianne Duvall, Awaken the Darkness

“You’re even more beautiful when kissed the sun.��
Smiling, she wrapped her arms around his waist. “I would much rather be kissed by you.”
― Dianne Duvall, Awaken the Darkness

“He didn't like causing her discomfort. "How are your hands?" He held his out, palm up.

Rounding the bed slowly, she placed hers in them.

Stanislav sat up straighter and examined them closely, then swore. Raw, open blisters marred the skin at the crooks of her thumbs and the base of every finger. She had gripped that shovel for so long that the blisters had all popped and the flap of loose skin on each had torn away. It looked painful. And she had said nothing, not even complaining when she had held one hand over the steaming pot of pasta while stirring it, something that must have made her hand hurt even more.

"Stop beating yourself up about it," she ordered softly.

He raised his head, on a level with hers though he sat and she stood.

"I wasn't intentionally listening to your thoughts," she told him. "You were sort of broadcasting them. And it wasn't your fault."

"I beg to differ. Had I not compelled you to dig me up��"

"You would probably be dead right now," she finished for him. Withdrawing one hand, she drew it over his hair. "It was worth it."

His pulse raced at her touch. His gaze dropped to her lips. He heard her heartbeat pick up.”
― Dianne Duvall, Awaken the Darkness

“He must have been someone I trusted at one time."
"But you don't now?"
"I can't. Not until I remember how I ended up so badly wounded where you found me. You've seen how strong I am, Susan. How fast I can move. Do you really think an enemy could have gotten the jump on me without a little assistance?"
She hadn't thought of it like that. It was a valid point. "No. I'm still hoping he's a friend though. You need someone you can trust."
Smiling, he touched her cheek. "I already have someone I trust. You."
She clasped his wrists and turned her head, pressing a kiss to his palm. "Flirt."
He winked. "Just wait until I confirm I'm not married. Then I'll take flirting to a whole new level."
"Hell yes, you will," she declared.
He laughed.”
― Dianne Duvall, Awaken the Darkness

“They are entering the forest of amnesia, where things have lost their names.”
― Margaret Atwood

“Susan glared up at the man. "Let go of me."

"Tell me where you found it!" he shouted, giving her a little shake. "Did you even find it? Or did you steal it from the person it belongs to?"

Fury suffused Stanislav as he took a step forward.

Before he could leap to her aid, Susan drew her free arm back and punched the man in the face. Ow! Sh**, that hurt! she exclaimed mentally. But it didn't stop her from delivering a wicked uppercut when the man released her arm and stumbled backward.

Stanislav's jaw dropped.

She really could handle herself.”
― Dianne Duvall, Awaken the Darkness

“If I decide to get a tattoo, it'll be a map of where I live on my chest in case I ever get amnesia.”
― Stewart Stafford

“Because DID requires the presence of amnesia, DID patients are, by DSM-5 definition (American Psychiatric Association, 2013), unaware of some of their behavior in different states. Progress in treatment includes helping patients become more aware of, and in better control of, their behavior across all states. To those who have not had training in treating DID, this increased awareness may make it seem as if patients are creating new self-states, and “getting worse,�� when in fact they are becoming aware of aspects of themselves for which they previously had limited or no awareness or control. Although some DID patients create new self-states in adulthood, clinicians strongly advise patients against so doing (Fine, 1989; ISSTD, 2011; Kluft, 1989).”
― Bethany L. Brand

“Lots of people with dissociative disorders are so used to losing time that they don’t even notice it anymore. Switching and the coming and going are so normal for them, and the covering for a “bad memory�� are just natural parts of the day. In fact, it can be so natural, that many people with DID/MPD are firmly convinced that they don’t lose any time at all. However, a close examination of that belief can usually prove otherwise, but that is not an uncommon initial assumption.”
― Kathy Broady

“The brain is a frightening thing, capable of remembering so much of what we want it to forget and forgetting the one thing that we most want it to remember. And then, years later, it chooses to work, operating like an autonomous neural state, summoning a nightmare from beyond the city walls, the badlands of amnesia.”
― J.S. Monroe, Forget My Name

“I wish that I could wake up with amnesia
And forget about the stupid little things
Like the way it felt to fall asleep next to you
And the memories I never can escape
'Cause I'm not fine at all
No, I'm really not fine at all
Tell me this is just a dream
'Cause I'm really not fine at all”
― 5 Seconds of Summer

“I cannot remember�� is the most frequent sentence that my girlfriend hears.”
― Steven Magee

“I must remind myself that I'm probably as much a stranger to them as they are to me.”
― Lana Lowe, How Yellow Fades

“Fortunately, most of our vital physiological functions are involuntary, as some amongst us would forget them.”
― Stewart Stafford

“They had a past together. Did it rule out a future?”
― Lisa Carlisle, When Darkness Whispers

“Jo knew she had to be utterly truthful, even when her version of the truth conflicted with what Lynn wanted to hear. Truth was vital to Jo, because she had a hard enough time keeping track of the spotty reality she experienced.”
― Joan Frances Casey, The Flock: The Autobiography of a Multiple Personality

“Who did she expect to pick her up? A name had been on her lips. Someone she missed terribly, so much so that the physical longing stabbed at her chest and made her grab it, but there was no knife to pull out. It was invisible but real, and the blade was grinding deeper into her as she realised that she didn’t know who she was missing. There was no knight in shining armour to collect her, or if there was, she didn’t know who he was.”
― Pamela Harju, A World Other Than Her Own

“Amnestic disorders are a known aspect of very high altitude exposures in the sea level adapted human.”
― Steven Magee

“Educar apropiadamente es como tratar un caso de amnesia. Consiste en ayudar a entender como propio un pasado del que no se tiene memoria.”
― Nordstelo, El Universo Antrópico

“Forgetting about appointments has become a normal aspect of life for me.”
― Steven Magee

“An hour later Tianna was walking toward Planet Bang, wearing a sweater shell with sequins and an ankle-grazing skirt slit up the sides to the top of her thighs. She glanced at the waning moon and stopped. There was something important she had to do before the moon turned dark and it was in some way connected to Justin and Mason, but what? She stared at the sky as she continued, hoping the memory would come to her the way soccer and skateboarding had.
When she rounded the corner, the music grew louder. A neon sign throbbed pink, blue, green, and orange lights over the kids waiting to go inside. She recognized some of them. It seemed as if everyone had come with a friend or friends. Their heads turned and watched her as she walked to the end of the line.
She spread her hands through her hair and arched her back. As long as they were going to stare, she might as well give them a show. She twisted her body and stuck one long leg out from the slit in her skirt. Guys smiled back at her as she stretched her arms in a sexy pose. The girls mostly turned away, pretending they hadn't been checking out their competition.”
― Lynne Ewing, The Lost One

“So many memories have dissipated in the mind-blunting of that period, when every thought, every feeling, every action was born out of intense anxiety.”
― Kate Mulgrew, How to Forget: A Daughter's Memoir

“You never forget how to dance, you just learn to filter the calls. You never forget how to play, you just need bigger balls. You stopped letting yourself fly and became an old fart. You didn’t forget how to love, you’re just using the balls in your head instead of the eyes of your heart.”
― Curtis Tyrone Jones

“How curiously we are made. �� The needle of life writes in the wax of the brain, and the record is our memories. Does the needle lift from the wax and leave no record? Or does a fog come down? What can we say? Do you know, I think the miracle is not that we sometimes can forget, but that we remember so much, so well. [Luther Grandison]”
― Charlotte Armstrong, The Unsuspected

“Aresztowanie Gomułki w latach stalinizmu zmazywało przynajmniej częściowo jego wcześniejsze zbrodnie. To prawda, komunista, odpowiedzialny za powojenne bezeceństwa, ale przecież sam też przez komunistów szykanowany. Przez te lata w odosobnieniu znalazł się po stronie cierpiących Polaków. Na nikogo lepszego wówczas nie mogli liczyć.”
― Piotr Lipiński, Gomułka. Władzy nie oddamy

“You are you even without your memories.”
― K. Weikel, Replay: Reboot

“Well, I'm naked... You're naked, we're in the same bed, and I don't remember coming here willingly. Put yourself in my shoes, what would you think?"
"You weren't wearing any when I found you."
"Wearing what?" He saw the confusion on her face and explained further.
"Shoes... You were barefoot when I found you."
"You found me? Where?"
"In the woods, two nights ago.”
― Anca Antoci, Forget Me Not