Lynne Kelly Quotes

Life is'nt about getting everything you want the instant you want it.Some thing are worth waiting for.

Some people have the kind of confidence that lets them get away with being clueless.

Some believers accuse skeptics of having nothing left but a dull, cold, scientific world. I am left with only art, music, literature, theatre, the magnificence of nature, mathematics, the human spirit, sex, the cosmos, friendship, history, science, imagination, dreams, oceans, mountains, love, and the wonder of birth. That’ll do for me.

A sound can move anything if it's strong enough.

So many ways to fail, all right in front of me. But I had to try.

Blue 55 didn’t have a pod of friends or a family who spoke his language. But he still sang. He was calling and calling, and no one heard him.

He keeps singing this song, and everything in the ocean swims by him, as if he’s not there. He thinks no one understands him. I want to let him know he’s wrong about that.

Maybe finding your way sometimes mean you can't stay where you are.

If you don't know when you'll get to talk to someone like you again, you don't want your time together to end.

I know not all that may be coming, but be it what it will, I’ll go to it laughing.

Why should I stay in the same place just because I'd been there for so long?

I’d found him. He’d never know what he meant to me, but that was okay. I didn’t speak his language, and he didn’t need to be fixed. He was the whale who sang his own song.

The important lesson for all of those wanting to memorise huge amounts of information is that the Navajo store this knowledge in their mythology. In stories. Vivid lively stories make information more memorable.

Kelly and I had to take our turns to work the concessions stand at the games. We would always try to work our designated duties together. If you've ever assembled a hundred hot dogs after a game, you know things can get pretty hectic behind that concessions counter. Kelly and I would slap those orders together as fast as we could, but keep in mind this was not either of our fortes. Did the guy in the green jacket order a hot dog or a burger? Did that lady say "diet" or did I imagine it? We often held our breath when the person left, wondering if he would discover in short order that what he asked for was not at all what he received from the inept concession stand staff. Big crowds of of hungry basketball fans made us nervous, and Kelly and I often made a mess filling their orders. One time I got impatient with the ketchup bottle, as I kept banging on the bottom of it and nothing was coming out. All of the sudden, half the bottled spewed out in this huge blob, and I looked like a bloody accident victim the rest of the night!

The human brain does not fully mature and develop until approximately age 24.

I thought about how whenever I was with another Deaf person, we’d take forever saying our goodbyes. It annoyed everyone else as they stood in the doorway waiting for us to finally say goodbye and mean it. We’d almost get there, then think of something else to tell each other. If you don’t know when you’ll get to talk to someone like you again, you don’t want your time together to end.

If you don’t know when you’ll get to talk to someone like you again, you don’t want your time together to end.

I thought my life with Kelli could be balanced, mitigated,. That Irene had just been doing it all wrong these years. I' thought we could hang out like normal sisters, run errands, go for lattes with Jessica Hendy, and every now and then go off and have a little temper tantrum if Kelli go on my nerves--leave her in the car, assume she'd be fine. I'd assumed I could indulge myself if need be, that there could be some kind of fulfillment beyond my sister's care--that I didn't have to give myself over to it completely. But here's what I needed to understand--what Irene understood. Either you were all in with Kelli, or you were not. But if you were, Kelli had to become your joy. Kelli would be where you went for meaning. Kelli was what it was all about. And Irene was right about this too-- it was like faith. It was exactly like faith in that you had to stop futzing around and let it take you over. No more hemming and hawing. No more trying to have it both ways. And once you put your petty shit aside --your petty ego and your petty needs and your petty ambitions--that was when at last the world opened up. The world that was Kelli. It was a small world, a circumscribed world but it was your world and you did what you could to make it more beautiful. You focused on hygiene, nourishing meals, a pleasing home that always smelled good. That was your achievement and more important that was you. Once you accept that, you were--and this was strange to think, but the moment I thought it, I realized I put my finger on the savagely beating heart of my mother's philosophy--free. When I was a kid, my mother had a lavishly illustrated encyclopedia of saints she would sometimes flip through with me, and I remember how she always made a point of skipping over Saint Teresa of Avila . She didn't want to talk about the illustration that went with it. It was a photograph of the sculpture The Ecstasy of Saint Teresa, and it was pretty obvious to me even as a child why my mother disapproved. It was a sexy sculpture. The smirking angel prepares to pierce Teresa's heart with his holy spear, and boy oh boy is Saint Teresa ready. Her eyes are closed, her lips are parted, and somehow everything about her marble body, swathed in marble clothing looks to be in motion. Saint Teresa is writhing. She's writhing because that is what it is to be a Catholic Saint. This is your fulfillment. The giving over. The letting go. The disappearance. This is what it takes

Mom, Everything’s okay. I’ll catch up on my work when I get back. Please don’t worry. I’m having a great time with Grandma. Yes, it’ll be a few days before we get back. Sorry for taking off like we did without telling you first. I guess it’s the kind of thing I’d do too, because it wasn’t Grandma’s idea. Please don’t be mad at her. Love, Iris

Y'all know that little gal Kelly Crawford that works down at Tuckers?" Tuckers Jiffy Lube was the only gas station and mechanical shop in town. Jena Lynn's face contorted in disapproval. "You referring to that scantily clad girl who runs the register?" I asked as Jena Lynn hopped up to retrieve the coffeepot. "That's the one." Betsy curled up her lip in disgust. "That girl is barely legal!" I was outraged. "I know! I'm going to tell her granny. She'll take a hickory switch to the girl when she finds out what she's been up to. She was all over Darnell." Betsy wiped her nose with the back of her hand. She was right about that. Her granny wasn't the type to spare the rod; she parented old-school style. Jena Lynn's tone rose as she stirred raw sugar into her coffee. "You caught them?" "Well, I called him after what happened with poor Mr. Ledbetter---" We shook our heads. "---told him I was going to be late 'cause I was taking that extra shift. Guess he thought late meant real late 'cause when I got home, they we're rootin' around on my couch, the one my meemaw gave me last spring when she had her house redecorated." We sat in stunned silence. "I threw his junk out last night. And when he still didn't budge from the TV"---she paused for effect---"I set it all on fire, right there in the front yard." She leaned back and crossed her arms over her expansive chest. "That's harsh." Sam stacked his empty plates. "Maybe it wasn't Darnell's fault." Jena Lynn and I gave him a disapproving glare. He appeared oblivious to his offense, and the moron had the audacity to reach into the container for a cream cheese Danish. "Sam, if you value that scrawny hand of yours, I'd pull it out real slow or you'll be drawing back a nub," Betsy warned. "Sheesh!" Sam jerked backward. It was obvious he didn't doubt her for a second. He marched toward the kitchen and dropped the plates in the bus tub with a loud thud. "He should know better. You don't touch a gal's comfort food in a time of crisis," I said, and my sister nodded in agreement. Jena Lynn patted Betsy on the arm. "Ignore him, Bets. He's a man." I stood. "And if I may be so bold as to speak for all the women of the world who have been unfortunate enough to be in your shoes, we applaud you." A satisfied smile spread across Betsy's lips. "Thank you." She took a little bow. "That's why my eyes look like they do. Smoke got to me." She leaned in closer. "I threw all his high school football trophies into the blaze while he was hollering at me. The whole neighborhood came out to watch." I chuckled. The thought of Darnell Fryer running around watching all his belongings go up in smoke was hilarious. I wished I'd been there. "Did anyone try to step in and help Darnell?" "Hell nah. He owes his buddies so much money from borrowing to pay his gambling debts, the ones that came out brought their camping chairs and watched the show while tossing back a few cold ones." She got up from the counter to scoop a glass full of ice and filled it with Diet Coke from the fountain. "Y'all, I gotta lose this weight now I'm back on the market." Betsy was one of a kind.

Vocab test? Really? She grinned as she shook her head. So you don't know it, then?

Aboriginal stories tell exactly what happened to the landscape after the last ice age. I was astonished that they could retain information so accurately over such an incredibly long passage of time.

few hundred years of Western society that we have lost the ability to memorise vast amounts of information. We use writing and technology to do the job for us. But memory, writing and technology can all enhance each other. This book is about how to do just that. I want to convince you that learning the memory arts is hugely worthwhile and great fun.

The memory methods used by indigenous cultures the world over have a great deal in common.

If these memory methods are so effective and universal, they must be directly related to the way the brain works.

And even more exciting, especially for someone over 60, as I am, is that current neuroscience research on the plasticity of the brain indicates that it doesn’t have to decline with age.

I knew very little about it except that non-literate cultures—who had built ancient monuments all round the world, including Stonehenge, Easter Island moai, the Nasca Lines and the many monumental sites across the Americas—had always used memory methods closely related to the way the brain works. It became clear to me that a significant proportion of the purpose of sacred places was to do with memorising and conveying critical knowledge.

The thorough examination by archaeologists, anthropologists and memory experts of both my thesis and the resulting book gave me the authority to take these ideas to the mainstream reader with the book The Memory Code (2016).

am convinced that we are very much poorer for not using our memories effectively anymore.

It’s from this time of early literacy that we get the easiest starting point for us to learn the memory arts. We’ll start with the critical role of the imagination. I’ll show you how to use your playful and creative inventiveness to memorise information with very straightforward medieval techniques.

I’ll then build up to the more complex techniques from indigenous cultures, where you can start to choose which method, or even combination of methods, suits your particular need.

Throughout the book, I’ll give you examples of how I have implemented each of the techniques, just to make my explanations clearer.

The table of memory methods in Appendix A gives you a smorgasbord of memory methods and what sort of information they best suit. It’s then up to you to choose.

in a list or any particular order. I mostly use my medieval bestiary to remember people’s names, but it can be used to memorise anything that you can spell.

In Chapter 2, we’ll get to the most powerful memory method of all, that of memory palaces. It is also known as the method of loci, the art of memory, memory journeys, songlines and many other terms. Memory is hugely enhanced by associating information with physical locations such as your home, neighbourhood or any other familiar place. Anything that you can put in order can be memorised using a memory palace.

Why do these memory methods work so well for everyone? In Chapter 3, I’ll explain how these methods correlate with the most recent discoveries in neuroscience, which show that associating memory with place is hardwired into our brains.

This common factor is why cultures all over the world have developed similar methods: they are working with the same brain structure. The neuroscience explains how we benefit from repetition and music, and in particular the value of memory palaces.

One of the most important lessons I have learned from indigenous cultures is the value of strong characters in stories.

cannot emphasise enough how useful this is.

You can repeat a string of facts over and over endlessly in your head but they’ll disappear as soon as you stop that repetition. If you deploy lively characters to act out that knowledge you’ll need far fewer repetitions to retain the knowledge, and you’ll retain it for longer. It is why all indigenous cultures tell stories and why we should too. I’ll explain it all in Chapter 4

I had no idea that indigenous animal stories from around the world would lead me to a new theory for Stonehenge. I had a PhD scholarship as a science writer and was looking forward to three years of gentle research leading to a natural history book about animal behaviour and indigenous stories. Eight tumultuous years later and that book is now in your hands, bearing only scant resemblance to the confident outline that started my journey.

A huge number of species of birds, mammals, reptiles and invertebrates were accurately described in stories, even when they had no apparent practical use.

For most of human history there was no writing. There was no other way to record all that people knew than to memorise it.

I played the note a few times, and the vibration tickled my palm again, a bit lighter than the others.

A second of panic like they’re not sure what to do with me or like I might explode in front of them.