Barbara Stanwyck Quotes

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

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.

I don't even know my own phone number.

Do you ever wake up in the morning, look in the mirror and think, something's not accurate?

Sometimes my whole life seems like a dream; occasionally I think that someone else has lived it for me. The events and the sensations, the stories and the things that make me what I am in the eyes of other people, the list of facts that make my life ... They could be mine, they might be yours.

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've never worked with a tail, that I can remember. But there's so much I can't remember.

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

The memory loss made me jittery at times.

I know who I WAS when I got up this morning, but I think I must have been changed several times since then

After looking at Salomaybe, I don't know who the hell the real me is. I think it's closest now to the real me because for one thing, I'm used to this.

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

You all right, man?' This should be my name. I could be like a super hero: You All Right Man. Ah...' I stumble. Don't bug Craig,' Ronny is like. 'He's in the Craig zone. He's Craig-ing out.

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.

You must have me confused with myself

Madness strips you of memory and leaves you scrabbling around on the floor of your brain for the snatches and snippets of what happened, what was said, and when.

One minute I'm robbing a dope house. Next minute I'm the youngest heavyweight champion of the world. I'm only 20, 19, with a lot of money. Who am I? What am I? I don't even know who I am. I'm just a dumb child who's being abused and robbed by lawyers. I'm just a dumb pugnacious fool. I'm just a fool who thinks he's someone. Then you tell me I should be responsible.

My husband is stricken with dementia, and it's a trick of his condition that events and people from his past are more real to him than what happened five minutes ago.

Sometimes I feel like a figment of my own imagination.

For myself, I do not now know in any concrete human terms wherein my individuality consists. In my present human form of consciousness I simply cannot tell.

If you ask me to play myself, I will not know what to do. I do not know who or what I am.

Sometimes I don't feel like an actor. Sometimes I speak about it like it was another job, and then I go, 'Wait a minute - I am one!'

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.