A Quote by Jan Brett

When I was little, I loved books that gave me lots of detail so that I felt like I could be transported to this other place, or, in the case of an illustration, I felt like I could walk into the page.
Other kids could read, other kids could write, other kids could spell, they could do math. I felt like an alien. I felt like an outcast. I felt like, 'What is going to happen to me?'
When I read these books, I no longer felt like I was confined to a very tiny world. I no longer felt housebound and bedbound. Really, I told myself, I was just brainbound. And this was not such a sorry state of affairs. My brain, with a little help from other people's brains, could take me to some pretty interesting places, and create all kinds of wonderful things. Despite its faults, my brain, I decided, was not the worst place in the world to be.
I do not like eating meat because I have seen lambs and pigs killed. I saw and felt their pain. They felt the approaching death. I could not bear it. I cried like a child. I ran up a hill and could not breathe. I felt that I was choking. I felt the death of the lamb.
On 'Rogue One,' we had these sets with tiny little buttons that would light up when you pressed them, and screens full of graphics, and it really felt like you were driving a spaceship. The level of detail; you'll be two meters away from where the action is, but there'll be a little detail there just in case the camera catches it.
I felt so full of love for everything. But at the same time, I felt so hung out there to dry, like nobody could ever understand. I felt so alone in this world, and so loved at the same time.
I too was frightened the first time I felt I hated my father. I felt like a criminal. But could I help it what was inside of me? I had to feel what I felt even if it killed me.
It felt good to be surrounded by books, by all this solid knowledge, by these objects that could be ripped page by page but couldn't be torn if the pages all held together.
I felt like I could get away with calling it Black Hours. That could easily be the most depressing record ever written, but because there is this sense of fun throughout the whole thing I felt like I could get away with it. Like "5 A.M."; that song's in a minor key and I'm just wailing away and it could have been just wallowing depression, but it's not.
Their leaving made me melancholy, though I also felt something like relief when they disappeared into the dark trees. I hadn't needed to get anything from my pack; I'd only wanted to be alone. Alone had always felt like an actual place to me, as if it weren't a state of being, but rather a room where I could retreat to be who I really was.
And then Adam Wilde shows up at Carnegie Hall on the biggest night of my career, and it felt like more than a coincidence. It felt like a gift. From them. For my first recital ever, they gave me a cello. And for this one, they gave me you.
At the age of 50, I did "Celebrity Fit Club" and I had to get on a scale and be weighed in front of everyone. I felt like I was naked and for the first time, there was nowhere to hide. I felt like I could finally be myself. It was really cathartic, and I realized I could share my mistakes. I could tell my story and not be ashamed, and show others with these same problems that they aren't alone.
It doesn't take a lot to get me motivated. I'm a studio rat. When I was in high school and I would walk into a recording studio, it felt like this magical place, this temple, this womb that I could escape into.
I was wholly at peace, at ease and at rest, so that there was nothing upon earth which could have afflicted me. This lasted for a time, and then I was changed ... I felt there was no ease or comfort for me except faith, hope and love, and truly I felt very little of this. And then presently God gave me again comfort and rest for my soul ... And then again I felt the pain, and then afterwards the delight and joy, now the one and now the other, again and again, I suppose about twenty times.
I remember the special quiet of rainy days when I felt that I could enter the pages of my beautiful picture books. Now I try to recreate that feeling of believing that the imaginary place I'm drawing really exists. The detail in my work helps to convince me, and I hope others as well, that such places might be real.
I just started reading lots of books and then called the United Nations and asked if they could educate me. The more I got involved, the more I suddenly began to feel useful as a human being and felt like I was finally living as I should be.
I was proud, excited and a little frightened. It was all taking off so quickly…the more successful the boys were, the further away from me John felt. I was getting used to being a mum, but most of the time I felt like a single parent…it was hard not to feel frustrated with being stuck at home. I loved Julian, but I knew that if I hadn’t had him I could have seen much more of John and that was hard…I felt shut off from the life he was living. After years at his side, I was excluded, just as it was all happening.
This site uses cookies to ensure you get the best experience. More info...
Got it!