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Amnesia Quotes

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Amnesia Quotes

“Earth is a machine-like simulation that depends on humans creating emotions with their Shadow Bodies in order to suck divine love into this simulated reality. If you are enlightened, you cannot be controlled thus intruder races focused on DNA tampering in order to create amnesia of god realization and forgetfulness of your Higher Self aspects.”

“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.”

“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.”

“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.”

“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.”

“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.”

“Just as sometimes I wondered if Grandpa had ever existed, sometimes I wondered if I truly existed myself. As I was running, I could see myself from outside myself: a skinny girl with the flapping shorts and too- big a T-shirt, always watching the other girls at school, a girl in a pink bedroom sitting with a book propped on her knees, the words she was reading entering her mind, some sticking like gluey never to be forgotten, others disappearing instantly, I could remember everything and remember nothing. I would watch a movie and recall every scene as if I had written the script, then watch another movie another day and be unable to recall it at all.”

“There, there, best to bring it all up,' she said. My memory was in shreds. Imagine a photograph cut into narrow strips then jumbled up. Everything is there, but you can't see the whole picture and even the strips have no bearing on reality. I did know I had consumed a large amount of alcohol. But I must have done something crazier than just being found drunk to have a nurse sitting by my bed. I thought it would be a good idea to say something and planned it for several seconds. 'She's all right,' I said. 'Who is?' asked the nurse. 'Alice. I'm all right now.' As I spoke I wondered if I had said something wrong. didn't sound like me. There were so many voices muttering in the background it was hard to tell.”

“Most often, the "host" has some recognition of other parts of the personality, although a degree of amnesia may be involved. However, occasionally, the "host" does not know about the existence of other dissociative parts of the personality, and loses time when others dominate executive control (Putnam, Guroff, Silberman, Barban, & Post, 1986). As C. R. Stern (1984) pointed out, it is more often the case that the "host" actively denies (active nonrealization) evidence of the existence of other dissociated parts of the personality rather than dissociative parts "hiding" themselves from the host. This nonrealization may be so severe that when presented with evidence of other dissociative parts, the host may "flee" from treatment.”

“If we cling to old stories and carry the burden of regrets, mistakes, and unresolved sorrow, we must recognize that we hold on to pain and suffering. Instead, we must steam ahead, letting go and releasing the grip of the past with the inspiration of mindful liberation, but without willful amnesia. (“Never looking back again”)”

“You have to have like a bit of amnesia both on the winning side and the losing side of this thing... On the losing side you need to be able to forget a loss to be able to move on and to be successful in your next fight. But on the winning side you need to be able to forget a win so you don't get stuck in this pattern of like, "I'm unstoppable". So there has to be a level of amnesia for a fighter.”

“People seem able to love their dogs with an unabashed acceptance that they rarely demonstrate with family or friends. The dogs do not disappointment them, or, if they do, the owners manages to forget about it quickly. I want to learn to love people like this, the way I love my dog, with pride and enthusiasm and a complete amnesia for faults. In short, to love others the way my dog loves me.”

“Jews, Germans, and Allies is an important historical document, especially in light of those revisionists who would impose a universal amnesia about the suffering and losses incurred during the Holocaust. The grim statistics that Ms. Grossmann presents in her carefully researched and well-organized book carry evidence of the terrible truth. But the testimony of the survivors she quotes contains the final, ineradicable facts of history.”