A Quote by Ellen Hopkins

All I can do is lie here, brain turning somersaults. It's nights like these when memories stir, whipping themselves into stiff peaks of pain. — © Ellen Hopkins
All I can do is lie here, brain turning somersaults. It's nights like these when memories stir, whipping themselves into stiff peaks of pain.
There were times in my career ... when I felt like a trapeze artist doing dangerous somersaults without a net underneath. When you execute those somersaults flawlessly, the audience feels the same sense of triumph the performer does.
Stress does not cause pain, but it can exacerbate it and make it worse. Much of chronic pain is 'remembered' pain. It's the constant firing of brain cells leading to a memory of pain that lasts, even though the bodily symptoms causing the pain are no longer there. The pain is residing because of the neurological connections in the brain itself.
Sometimes I feel like tap-dancing, screeching, unscrewing light bulbs, pulling curtains, combing hair, doing knee bends, handstands and turning somersaults out there.
You know that if you lie to yourself, surely other people lie to themselves. And if they lie to themselves, they will lie to you also.
There is nothing like an odor to stir memories.
I want to live with all of my memories, even if they’re sad memories. I believe that if I stay strong, someday I’ll overcome the pain, and then I’ll be glad that I have those memories. I believe that there are no memories that are okay to forget.
Memories are like mulligatawny soup in a cheap restaurant. It is best not to stir them.
Memories are like mulligatawny soup in a cheap restaurant. It is wiser not to stir them.
Did you ever think about all of the nights you lived through and can't remember The ones that were so mundane your brain just didn't bother to record them. Hundreds, maybe thousands of nights come and go without being preserved by our memory. Does that ever freak you out? Like maybe your mind recorded all of the wrong nights?
Those neon light nights, couldn't stay out of fights, keeps a-haunting me in memories. There is one in every crowd, for crying out loud, why was is always turning out to be me?
No doubt, corporate CEOs who lie to their shareholders and politicians who lie to their public know and believe intellectually that lying is immoral. Why then do they lie? They lie to others because they first lie to themselves.
I feel like I've had bad nights or destructive nights or nights where I don't remember anything or nights where I was seriously injured or seriously in danger. And I remained nihilistic and unconcerned because it felt like there was no alternative.
I stir in bed and the memories rise out of me like a buzz of flies from a carcass. I crave to be rid of them.
It's possible to keep drawing this moment out, any moment, hammering it thinner and thinner like beaten gold, like iced chablis, whipping it, whipping it to cheap perfume, each word blown to aneurysm.
I am very lucky that I get to tell stories for a living. I love being able to grab people's attention, to keep them turning the pages, to make them stay awake all night. I want to stir the pulse, yes, but also to stir the heart. I hope 'The Woods' does that.
I just like cars, period. I can find something to like about pretty much any car. I've had as much fun whipping around Italy in a little Mini Cooper as I've had whipping through Miami in a Bentley GT.
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