Lisa Genova Quotes & Sayings

Now wasn't the time or place. She'd get into it with him later. If she could remember. — Lisa Genova

And, like a lightning strike, there is his example. His mother before him. The lesson that she passed down for him to pass on to his children - the courage to face every breath with love and gratitude. — Lisa Genova

Thank you for all your guidance and wisdom, for setting the bar so much higher than I thought I could reach, and for giving me plenty of room to run with my own ideas. You've been the best teacher I've ever had. — Lisa Genova

She didn't have time for Alzheimer's today. — Lisa Genova

The well-being of a neuron depends on its ability to communicate with other neurons. Studies have shown that electrical and chemical stimulation from both a neuron's inputs and its targets support vital cellular processes. Neurons unable to connect effectively with other neurons atrophy. Useless, an abandoned neuron will die. — Lisa Genova

She pictured her Alzheimer's as a demon in her head, tearing a reckless and illogical path of destruction, ripping apart the wiring from "Lydia now" to "Lydia then — Lisa Genova

You can be in Downward Dog, hating every second of it. Or you can be in this pose, peaceful and nonreactive, breathing calmly. Either way, you're in this pose. You decide the quality of your experience. Be the thermostat, not the temperature. — Lisa Genova

Whatever I have to do here, I'm ready for it. Work hard, do my homework, get an A, get back home to Bob and the kids, and back to work. Back to normal. I'm determined to recover 100 percent. One hundred percent has always been my goal in everything, unless extra credit is involved, and then I shoot higher. Thank God I'm a competitive, type A perfectionist. I'm convinced I'm going to be the best traumatic brain injury patient Baldwin has ever seen. But they won't be seeing me for very long because I also plan to recover faster than anyone here would predict. I wonder what the record is. — Lisa Genova

I know this looks pathetic, but I'm wearing black elastic-waist pants just like my mother's, a hot-pink fleece hat, mismatched socks, and no makeup. I think it's safe to say that vanity is no longer my biggest concern. — Lisa Genova

We both laugh. I like the sound of my mother's laugh. I wish she'd found these pills when I was a kid, that I wasn't learning the sound of my mother's laughter at the age of thirty-seven and at the price of a traumatic brain injury. I look over at her pillbox. It suddenly occurs to me that she took many more pills than should be prescribed solely for depression. What else could she be taking medication for? I wonder. — Lisa Genova

Concern is a thin hair on the head of pity. — Lisa Genova

She still loves the feel of a new book. While she appreciates the convenience of those thin, slick e-readers, they don't give her the three-dimensional sensory experience that comes with a real book. — Lisa Genova

I offered to pass along information about NEHSA to Heidi so she can let her patients know about it. I don't have any scientific or clinical data to back this up, but I think snow-boarding is the most effective rehabilitative tool I've experienced. It forces me to focus on my abilities and not my disability, to overcome huge obstacles, both physical and psychological, to stay up on that board and get down the mountain in one piece. And each time I get down the mountain in one piece, I gain a real confidence and sense of independence I haven't felt anywhere else since the accident, a sense of true well-being that stays with me well beyond the weekend. And whether snowboarding with NEHSA has a measurable and lasting therapeutic effect for people like me or not, it's a lot more fun than drawing cats and picking red balls up off a tray — Lisa Genova

Have you lost your mind?"
"No," I say, insulted. Well, I actually have lost some of my right mind, but now's probably not the best time to be literal. — Lisa Genova

Just because [butterflies'] lives were short didn't mean they were tragic ... See, they have a beautiful life. — Lisa Genova

She hung up the phone and congratulated herself on still having editorial control over her raw emotions — Lisa Genova

I smile, loving him for changing with me, for going where my Neglect has taken us, for getting the new me. — Lisa Genova

She read it again. It was fascinating and surreal, like reading a diary that had been hers when she was a teenager, secret and heartfelt words written by a girl she only vaguely remembered. She wished she'd written more. Her words mad her feel sad and proud, powerful and relieved. — Lisa Genova

He left the room, unable to watch her standing there, naked with her underwear on her head, laughing at her own absurd madness. — Lisa Genova

Why? What's wrong with being emotional about this? why is that a negative thing? Why isn't the emotional decision the right decision? asked the woman who wasn't crying. — Lisa Genova

He said not to worry. But it's there. The worry. I can't help it. It's like telling me not to have brown eyes. I have brown eyes. I'm worried. — Lisa Genova

I don't know how much longer I have to know you. — Lisa Genova

I used to know how the mind handled language, and I could communicate what I knew. I used to be someone who knew a lot. No one asks for my opinion or advice anymore. I miss that. I used to be curious and independent and confident. I miss being sure of things. There's no peace in being unsure of everything all the time. I miss doing everything easily. I miss being a part of what's happening. I miss feeling wanted. I miss my life and my family. I loved my life and family. — Lisa Genova

You've had the power all along, girl. Go live your dreams. — Lisa Genova

To me, meditation sounds a whole lot like doing nothing. I don't do nothing. I pack every second of every day with something that can get done. — Lisa Genova

Despite her self-reproach, she envied Anna, that she could do what Alice couldn't - keep her children safe from harm. Anna would never have to sit opposite her daughter, her firstborn, and watch her struggle to comprehend the news that she would someday develop Alzheimer's. — Lisa Genova

Also want you to take vitamin E twice a day and vitamin C, baby aspirin, and a statin once a day. You — Lisa Genova

I decide I'm not dead because I can hear the sound of the rain hitting the roof of the car. I'm alive because I'm listening to the rain, and the rain becomes the hand of God strumming his fingers on the roof, deciding what to do. — Lisa Genova

The mother in her believed that the love she had for her daughter was safe from the mayhem of her mind, because it lived in her heart. — Lisa Genova

They talked about her as if she weren't sitting in the wing chair, a few feet away. They talked about her, in front of her, as if she were deaf. They talked about her, in front of her, without including her, as if she had Alzheimer's disease. — Lisa Genova

Accepting the fact that she did indeed have Alzheimer's, that she could only bank on two unacceptably effective drugs available to treat it, and that she couldn't trade any of this in for some other, curable disease, what did she want? Assuming the in vitro procedure worked, she wanted to live to hold Anna's baby and know it was her grandchild. She wanted to see Lydia act in something she was proud of. She wanted to see Tom fall in love. She wanted one more sabbatical year with John. She wanted to read every book she could before she could no longer read.
She laughed a little, surprised at what she'd just revealed about herself. Nowhere in that list was anything about linguistics, teaching, or Harvard. She ate her last bite of cone. She wanted more sunny, seventy-degree days and ice-cream cones. — Lisa Genova

My mother's cure for a lifetime of regret lies within the words I forgive you, spoken only by me. I intuitively know this, but some part of me, old and wounded and needing a miracle cure of its own, resists this generosity and won't allow the words to leave my head. And even then, before they can be spoken, they'd have to make the long journey from my head to my heart if they're to earn the sincerity they'd need to be effective. — Lisa Genova

I can't fathom the day when I'll be able to figure out how to independently maneuver my way into my bra, like I used to, every day since I was thirteen. The left arm through the left loop, the left boob into the left cup. Never mind the clasp in the back. My poor injured brain gets all twisted up like some circus contortionist even trying to imagine how this procedure would work. I'm supposed to at least try every step of getting dressed on my own, but when it comes to the bra, I no longer bother. My mother just does it for me, and we don't tell the therapists.She holds up one of my white Victoria's Secret Miracle Bras. I close my eyes, shutting out the humiliating image of my mother manhandling my boobs. But even with my eyes closed, I can feel her cold fingers against my bare skin, and as I can't help but picture what she's doing, humiliation saunters right in, takes a seat, and puts its feet up. Like it does every day now. — Lisa Genova

Normal's overrated. — Lisa Genova

Every breath is a risk. Love is why we breathe — Lisa Genova

The room does feel strange, oppressive even, with the TV off. In fact, Katie can't remember ever being in this room without it on. It's as if they're missing their fifth sibling, the one who never shuts up and demands all the attention. — Lisa Genova

I'd lose what little independence I still have. A new job. Your dad would be working all the time. I'd lose him, too. — Lisa Genova

We kiss good-bye. It's our typical morning good-bye kiss. A quick peck. A well-intentioned habit. I look down and notice Lucy's round, blue eyes paying close attention. I flash to studying my own parents kissing when I was little ... I promised myself that when I got married someday, I would have kisses that meant something. Kisses that would make me weak in the knees. Kisses that would embarrass the kids. Kisses like Han Solo kissing Princess Leia ...
Now I get it. we aren't living in some George Lucas blockbuster adventure. Our morning kiss good-bye isn't romantic, and it certainly isn't sexual. It's a routine kiss, but I'm glad we do it. It does mean something. It's enough. And it's all we have time for. — Lisa Genova

Alice watched and listened and focused beyond the words the actress spoke. She saw her eyes become desperate, searching, pleading for truth. She saw them land softly and gratefully on it. Her voice felt at first tentative and scared. Slowly, and without getting louder, it grew more confident and then joyful, playing sometimes like a song. Her eyebrows and shoulders and hands softened and opened, asking for acceptance and offering forgiveness. Her voice and body created an energy that filled Alice and moved her to tears. She squeezed the beautiful baby in her lap and kissed his sweet-smelling head.
The actress stopped and came back into herself. She looked at Alice and waited.
"Okay, what do you feel?"
"I feel love. It's about love. — Lisa Genova

How can you even consider spending the time we have left squirreled away in your fucking lab? I would never do this to you.
I'd never ask you to.
You wouldn't have to. — Lisa Genova

In the ladies' room, Alice studied her image in the mirror. The reflected older woman's face didn't quite match the picture that she had of herself in her mind's eye. — Lisa Genova

And I have no control over which yesterdays I keep and which ones get deleted. This disease will not be bargained with. I can't offer it the names of the US presidents in exchange for the names of my children. I can't give it the names of state capitals and keep the memories of my husband.
... My yesterdays are disappearing, and my tomorrows are uncertain, so what do I live for? I live for each day. I live in the moment. Some tomorrow soon, I'll forget that I stood before you and gave this speech. But just because I'll forget it some tomorrow doesn't mean that I didn't live every second of it today. I will forget today, but that doesn't mean that today doesn't matter. — Lisa Genova

SHE HAD NO CLASSES to teach, no grants to write, no new research to conduct, no conferences to attend, and no invited lectures to give. Ever again. She felt like the biggest part of her self, the part she'd praised and polished regularly on its mighty pedestal, had died. And the other smaller, less admired parts of her self wailed with self-pitying grief, wondering how they would matter at all without it. She — Lisa Genova

We have pills for headaches. We have antidepressants for sadness. We had God for believers. We have nothing for autism. — Lisa Genova

She's said she doesn't want to. Go ahead and ask her. Just because she has Alzheimer's doesn't mean she doesn't know what she does and doesn't want. At three in the morning, she wanted scrambled eggs and toast, and she didn't want to go back to bed. You're choosing to dismiss what she wants because she has Alzheimer's — Lisa Genova

The majority of women in Welmont with children Charlie's age never miss a soccer game and don't earn special good mother status for being there. This is simply what good mothers do. These same mothers herald it an exceptional event if any of the dads leave the office early to catch a game. The fathers cheering on the sidelines are upheld as great dads. Fathers who miss the games are working. Mothers who miss the games, like me, are bad mothers. — Lisa Genova

Love is felt beyond words and touch. Love is energy. — Lisa Genova

This time of year is brutal. Joe knows exactly what Donny's referring to. It's January, just after the holiday season, a time for family and gift giving and celebration for most, a time of unbearable depression for others. The days are cold and dark by four thirty. Joe and Donny have responded to a lot of suicides over the years, and winter is sadly the most popular season. Joe won't miss that part of his job. Discovering the bodies. Sometimes the body parts. A teenager overdoses on heroin. A mother swallows a bottle of prescription pills. A father leaps off the Tobin. A cop eats his gun. — Lisa Genova

If her mental prowess became increasingly replaced with mental illness, — Lisa Genova

Alice sat at her desk in their bedroom distracted by the sounds of John racing through each of the rooms on the first floor. She needed to finish her peer review of a paper submitted to the Journal of Cognitive Psychology before her flight, and she'd just read the same sentence three times without comprehending it. It was 7:30 according to their alarm clock, which she guessed was about ten minutes fast. She knew from the approximate time and the escalating volume of his racing that he was trying to leave, but he'd forgotten something and couldn't find it. She tapped her red pen on her bottom lip as she watched the digital numbers on the clock and listened for what she knew was coming. — Lisa Genova

She wished she had cancer instead. She'd trade Alzheimer's for cancer in a heartbeat. She felt ashamed for wishing this, and it was certainly a pointless bargaining, but she permitted herself the fantasy anyway. With cancer, she'd have something to fight. There was surgery, radiation, and chemotherapy. There was the chance that she could win. Her family and the community at Harvard would rally behind her battle and consider it noble. And even if it defeated her in the end, she'd be able to look them knowingly in the eye and say good-bye before she left. — Lisa Genova

Don't aim for perfect. Aim for complete. Perfection is an unattainable illusion. — Lisa Genova

So she went to mass every Sunday as a child, received communion, went to confession, and was confirmed, but because her mother never participated in any of this, Alice began questioning the validity of these beliefs at a young age. And without a satisfying answer from either her father or the Catholic Church, she never developed a true faith. — Lisa Genova

It's the closest place to nowhere that she can think of. And nowhere is exactly where she wants to be today. — Lisa Genova

I have a son,' says JJ, marveling at the sound and truth of the words ...
'You know, I love you and Mom ... But I don't even know this baby and the love- ' JJ clears his throat and wipes his suddenly wet eyes with the back of his hand. 'It's bigger. I'd lie down in traffic for him right now. I didn't know it could get bigger.'
Joe nods. 'This is only the beginning. — Lisa Genova

How does he do it? Bob in Charge of All Three Kids is an entirely different show
than Sarah in Charge of All Three Kids. With Bob, they're happily willing to be independent little taskmasters, content to leave him in peace until he comes to them with an offer of a new activity. With me, I have all the magnetism of a favorite rock star without the bodyguards. They're on me. A typical example: Linus is under my feet, whining, begging to be picked up, while Lucy hollers, "Mom, I need help!" from another room, while Charlie asks me forty-seven hundred relentless questions about what happens to trash. — Lisa Genova

Time's a funny thing, bending, warping, stretching, and compressing, all depending on perspective. — Lisa Genova

Later that night, feeling restless, I get out of bed, creep into Linus's room, and watch him sleeping in his crib. He's lying on his back, wearing blue feety pajamas, one arm up over his head. I listen to his deep-sleep exhales. Even years past those fragile newborn months, it still gives my maternal ears relief and peace to hear the sounds of my children breathing when they're asleep. His orange nukie is in his mouth, the silky edge of his favorite blanket is touching his cheek, and Bunny is lying limp across his chest. He's surrounded by every kind of baby security paraphernalia imaginable, and yet none of it protected him from what could have happened today. — Lisa Genova

She liked being reminded of butterflies. She remembered being six or seven and crying over the fates of the butterflies in her yard after learning that they lived for only a few days. Her mother had comforted her and told her not to be sad for the butterflies, that just because their lives were short didn't mean they were tragic. Watching them flying in the warm sun among the daisies in their garden, her mother had said to her, see, they have a beautiful life. Alice liked remembering that. — Lisa Genova

The thought is only terrifying if she chooses to be terrified. The quality of her experience depends entirely on the thoughts she chooses. Reality depends on what is paid attention to. — Lisa Genova

And while a bald head and a looped ribbon were seen as badges of courage and hope, her reluctant vocabulary and vanishing memories advertised mental instability and impending insanity. Those with cancer could expect to be supported by their community. Alice expected to be an outcast. — Lisa Genova

She'd been having a lot of trouble sleeping through the night lately, probably because she was napping a lot during the day. Or was she napping a lot during the day because she wasn't sleeping well at night? — Lisa Genova

As they lurch down the hallway and finally make it to the kitchen, it occurs to Joe that this is the best anyone can hope for in life. Someone you love to stagger through the hard times with. — Lisa Genova

Her parents' professional lives served as shining examples of what could be gained from setting lofty and individually unique goals and pursuing them with passion and hard work. — Lisa Genova

I know what you're going through is terrifying and unfair and really hard. But you have to go through it. Right now, you're just standing still. You're sinking in it. Let me hold your hand and go through it with you. — Lisa Genova

This might not be her biggest or most prestigious audience, but of all the talks she'd given in her life, she hoped this one would have the most powerful impact. — Lisa Genova

Reality depends on perspective, on what is paid attention to. — Lisa Genova

Pushing aside the overwhelming fears of every horrible thing that will and might be, making room for every magnificent thing that is and might be. — Lisa Genova

I can't stand the thought of looking at you someday, this face I love, and not knowing who you are. — Lisa Genova

She savored the relaxed intimacy of these morning walks with him, before the daily demands of their jobs and ambitions rendered them each stressed and exhausted. — Lisa Genova

Every day, police officers see the hairy, smelly underbelly of humanity, the most depraved and evil shit human beings are capable of, shit civilians thankfully can't imagine. — Lisa Genova

She wished that these kinds of advances in reproductive medicine had been available to her. But then the embryo that had developed into Anna would've been discarded. — Lisa Genova

Even then, more than a year earlier, there were neurons in her head, not far from her ears, that were being strangled to death, too quietly for her to hear them. Some would argue that things were going so insiduously wrong that the neurons themselves initiated events that would lead to their own destruction. Whether it was molecular murder or cellular suicide, they were unable to warn her of what was happening before they died. — Lisa Genova

Her ability to use language, that thing that most separates humans from animals, was leaving her, and she was feeling less and less human as it departed. She's said a tearful good-bye to okay some time ago. — Lisa Genova

Alice: I miss myself.
John: I miss you too, Ali, so much. — Lisa Genova

Fenway seats just over thirty-seven thousand, about the same number of people as have Huntington's in the United States. Thirty-seven thousand. It's a faceless number, — Lisa Genova

For a split second every morning, she forgets. And then the black heaviness is there, and she wonders what it is, and then she remembers. — Lisa Genova

You are either Now Here or Nowhere. — Lisa Genova

She's so warm, and her deepened breathing is hypnotic. I wish I could let myself drift off with her, but I have miles to go before I can sleep. This is the trick every night, to leave after she's surrendered the fight to be up, but before I give in to the desire to close my eyes. When I'm convinced she's fully unconscious, I slide out from under the covers, tiptoe around all the toys and crafts (land mines) strewn on the floor, and steal out of her darkened room like I'm James Bond. — Lisa Genova

The ability to attach guilt firmly by the hand to any positive emotion is a skill cultivated by the Irish, — Lisa Genova

And you, Mom. I loved you. You've asked if i felt and understood that you loved me. of course I did. And you know this. I loved your love because it kept me safe and happy and wanted, and it existed beyond words and hugs and eyes. — Lisa Genova

It's the kind of concerned, mixed-with-a-spoon-ful-of-horror-and-a-dollop-of-dread look that anyone might have if forced to sit next to any patient in the neuro unit. — Lisa Genova

Lacking stamina, it became a withering whimsy of a flirtation. — Lisa Genova

In excellent physical condition for a woman her age, she imagined running strong well into her sixties. — Lisa Genova

Be creative, be useful, be practical, be generous and finish big — Lisa Genova

At some point, there would simply be no point. — Lisa Genova

He used to tell her everything, and she used to listen in rapt attention. She wondered when that had changed and who'd lost interest first, he in the telling or she in the listening. — Lisa Genova

My yesterdays are disappearing, my tomorrows are uncertain, so what do I live for? I live for each day. I live in the moment. — Lisa Genova

If I don't take this, I could ruin my one shot at discovering something that truly matters." "This isn't your one shot. You're brilliant, and you don't have Alzheimer's. You're going to have plenty of shots." He — Lisa Genova

The blazing fire consumed all. No one got out alive. And — Lisa Genova

The spectrum is long and wide, and we're all on it. Once you believe this, it becomes easy to see how we're all connected.
p306 Author's notes — Lisa Genova

It's our job to pass on our wisdom about life to our kids. I'm really afraid she's missing out on something essential. The exposure to different subjects, different ways of thinking, the challenges, opportunities, the people you meet. — Lisa Genova

My yesterdays are disappearing, and my tomorrows are uncertain, so what do I live for? I live for each day. I live in the moment. Some tomorrow soon, I'll forget that I stood before you and gave this speech. But just because I'll forget it some tomorrow doesn't mean that I didn't live every second of it today. I will forget today, but that doesn't mean that today didn't matter. — Lisa Genova

Everything she did and love, everything she was, required language. — Lisa Genova

Lotus flowers blossom while rooted in mud, a reminder that beauty and grace can rise above something ugly. — Lisa Genova

Buttoning the length of my shirt with Left Neglect and one right hand takes the same kind of singular, intricate, held-breath concentration that I imagine someone trying to dismantle a bomb would need to have. — Lisa Genova

ALICE HAD BEEN UP ALONE for a couple of hours. In that early morning solitude, she drank green tea, read a little, and practiced yoga outside on the lawn. Posed in downward dog, she filled her lungs with the delicious morning ocean air and luxuriated in the strange, almost painful pleasure of the stretch in her hamstrings and glutes. Out of the corner of her eye, she observed her left triceps engaged in holding her body in this position. Solid, sculpted, beautiful. Her whole body looked strong and beautiful. She was in the best physical shape of her life. Good food plus daily exercise equaled the strength in her flexed triceps muscles, the flexibility in her hips, her strong calves, and easy breathing during a four-mile run. — Lisa Genova

He held her, and rocked her slightly side to side, soothing her as she'd seen him calm their children after innumerable physical injuries and social injustices. — Lisa Genova

More and more, she was experiencing a growing distance from her self-awareness. Her sense of Alice - what she knew and understood, what she liked and disliked, how she felt and perceived - was also like a soap bubble, ever higher in the sky and more difficult to identify, with nothing but the thinnest lipid membrane protecting it from popping into thinner air. — Lisa Genova

But reading her journals has helped her to remember more than that morning. There was more to Anthony's life than his death. And there was more to Anthony than his autism. So much more. She can think about Anthony now and not be consumed by autism or grief. — Lisa Genova