Best 444 quotes in «autism quotes» category

... each day provided some tiny step forward, some steps so small you would miss them if you weren't looking. I'm always looking- eager to witness that next miracle.

Echophenomena, such as autistic echoing of phrases, are largely considered involuntary, even if such echoing is done voluntarily. (Such are the paradoxes of compliance.) Conversely, imitation, such as complying with a behavioral analyst's demand to mirror her jumping body, is regarded as voluntary, even if it is coerced or scripted.

Education is that component which brings in a meaningful relationship between the happenings around us and how our senses experience them.

Education is supposed to help the child and parents: it mustn’t end up being a kind of holding cell. For this reason, our education must not be overly defined by the views of outsiders, or be unquestioningly compliant with the values and beliefs of specialists. Of paramount importance is that the special needs education be a suitable fit for each and every student.

Egalitarianism & Equalism – Is That The Way Forward For Autism? I do not believe in militancy I am not a culturist nor a curist in the "Autism World". I am a "Neutral" This means that all views and realities are taken into account with equal measure the one thing that binds us is that we all human and it is important to acknowledge all human realities.

Emotions are difficult for me to recognize. I feel something but have no idea what emotion it is, so all my feelings just blur into a pain.

encephalitis, especially from vaccination, can give rise to an allergic state, while conversely the existence of an allergic state predisposes to the development of encephalitis after vaccination.

Everybody else possessed the key to popularity and happiness, and his clumsy attempts to find his own key always ended with other children looking at him funny, or calling him names.

FAVORITE GIRL IN THE WORLD. STILL MY FRIEND? Please meet me on the bleachers after school. Please. And I’m sorry. Sorrier than any person has ever been sorry in the history of sorry people. I’ll put in one last please for good luck. Sorry. Again.

Everything can be summed up into an equation.

Every engineer, doctor, and farmer on this ship has relatives on the waiting list, too, and those relatives won’t be drug addicts. Mom’s right: no one would pick her from a waiting list. No one would’ve picked me, either. Usefulness or death can’t be her only options. If being picked from the waiting list isn’t feasible, then the one choice left is to smuggle her in. The back of my mind keeps whispering about the risk, about She’d only be a drain, but I shut it up. There’s a difference between leaving Mom and leaving Mom to die. “I’m glad you agree,” Iris says. “I know it’s not easy.” That’s what I hate. She’s right. It’s not. I still don’t want to break the rules, even if it’s to help Mom. But people on TV never abandon their family; they risk their own lives. That’s what you’re supposed to do. On TV, people just never feel this twisted about it. “Four this afternoon,” I say. “Let’s talk.

Extremes of any combination come to be seen as 'psychiatric deviance.' In the argument presented here, where disorder begins is entirely down to social convention, and where one decides to draw the line across the (human) spectrum (of dispositional diversity).

For us, time is as difficult to grasp as picturing a country we've never been to. You can't capture the passing of time on a piece of paper. The hands of a clock may show that some time has passed, but the fact that we can't actually feel it makes us nervous.

Glyphosate also interferes with ATP production by affecting your mitochondrial membranes. When coupled with the so-called inert solvents included in Roundup, the toxicity of glyphosate is magnified as much as 2,000-fold. This makes the membrane more permeable, allowing the glyphosate to go straight to the heart of the mitochondria.

Gottfried was precociously smart, but he was apparently unaware of things that most kids know instinctively. He could see right through the polite facades and social games unfolding all around him, but didn't know how to play them to his own advantage.

Go to every IEP with a plan of your own. Be the expert. Teachers and therapists know general information only. You, on the other-hand, know the specifics about your child – you are your child’s only real expert. Pop in unexpectedly to observe. Keep educators on their toes. Be kind and push gently. If needed, push hard.

Go to the edge of the cliff and jump off. Build your wings on the way down.--Ray Bradbury

He’s wearing a T-shirt for the first time, answering thatquestion I had when we met. It’s not muscle filling out Max’s clothes; he’s just chubby. It looks good on him either way. The thought feels bizarrely out of place after everything that happened today. I’ve rehearsed what to tell him. Last year, a friend of my aunt’s died, and Iris and Dad coached me on what to say. I copy it almost word for word. “Max, I didn’t know your sister well. But she was nice to me. I’m very sorry for your loss.” I hold his gaze for a second.

Half the time he seems autistic, the rest of the time he's like a lizard jacked full of lithium and speed. These things do not promote love in most of us.

Having Simultanagnosia (object blindness), Prosopagnosia (face blindness) and Semantic Agnosia (meaning blindness) goes in my favour with regards to abstract art living in world full of fragmented pieces when I draw it is in real time no visual memory means no "pre-formatted" picture in my mind so I go where my hand takes it's like journey that is happening in the moment, hence why I drew these without my lenses on. When I was younger I would draw pictures by "route" which made it a appear that I had a visual memory (cobbling together things out of context and making a contextual image)

He had the whitest teeth I'd ever seen, which made me think his kisses would taste like Pep O Mint Life Savers. Joe's kisses probably tasted like pot and Funyuns. And failure.

Having Asperger’s is like having an enhancer plugged into an outlet in our brains. Asperger’s is an accelerator, amplifying the perceptions that we have on the world and the ambiance around us. Like going to the store and buying a device to plug in or install on something in order to make it run faster, Asperger’s will deepen everything’s significance, causing us to take things to a more intense level. Those of us with Asperger’s need to take our time on certain things, which causes us difficulty in accomplishing simple tasks. We learn to diligently persevere and be more prudent and careful. "Juggling the Issues: Living with Asperger’s Syndrome is an anthology explaining these topics through the eyes of someone with Asperger’s. This is more than a researcher giving an outline of what we face and what we can do. Instead, this is one of those books told by a person who has Asperger’s and has dealt with certain difficulties in order to experience achievements over the past twenty years. I have personally overcome and am still overcoming a lot of the trials that come with having Asperger’s.

He drew some relief from knowing that she was happy doing whatever the hell it was she did. Sometimes it seemed to him she was the only happy person he knew, and that frightened him so badly it made him want to curl up and die.

I also have a list of favorite noises. It has one item on it: Kit's laugh.

His eyes saved him. What they insisted on seeing and reporting to him took him out of the autism of terror.

However, why does it so often fail to dawn on them that if we’re smart enough to understand their instructions, we might well also be capable of understanding the everyday language that’s going on around us all the time?

How very scared I was of everything, and in the end how very scared I was of her. This woman I knew, and did not know, and loved.

I am fine as an autistic person, value me as i am. Don't look at me as a broken neurotypical.

Historically, individuals with developmental delays and autistic features have been acclaimed as saints or mystics.

I am kissing David Drucker. I am kissing David Drucker. I am kissing David Drucker. I Was wrong. I had assumed this would be his first kiss, that it would be fumbling and a bit messy but still fun. No way. Can’t be. This guy knows exactly what he’s doing. How to cradle the back of my head with his hands. How to move in soft and slow, and then pick up the pace, and then slow down again. How to brush my cheeks with even smaller kisses, how to work his way down my jaw, and to soften the worry spot in the center of my brow. How to pause and look into my eyes, really look, so tenderly I feel it all the way down in my stomach. He even traces the small zigzag scar on my eyebrow with his fingertips, like it’s something beautiful. I could kiss him forever. I’m going to kiss him forever.

I am no longer 'trying to dig up evidence to prove' vaccines cause autism. There is already abundant evidence. This debate is not scientific but is political

I am so alone, all the time, even when I'm surrounded by people. Sometimes I get really tired of the walls, and I wish I had the strength to just go at them with a sledgehammer.

I calculate the breadth of Steven's shoulders, now wider than mine; watch him tear open the Blokus game he likes to play with me after school; count the hours between now and Dad coming home to take over and I am only a little afraid of the night.

I attended a symposium, an event named after a fifth century (B.C.) Athenian drinking party in which nonnerds talked about love; alas, there was no drinking, and mercifully, nobody talked about love.

I believe that disclosure represents a particular kind of inventional site within autism land. Because autism, in the cultural imagination, is an ambiguous and often mystery-laden construct, any disclosure around autism invokes questions, invokes guesswork, incites demands for particularity. One cannot claim autism without being pressed for more -- more information, more cross-examination, more refutation, more response, more words flowing from more mouths. But there is likewise a problem of ethos (or kakoethos, to quote Jenell Johnson) inherent in these disclosures, wherein autistic people are figured as lacking authority to speak on or from within autism. Autistic academic Dinah Murray laments these figurations of autism and ethos, noting, "Disclosure of an autism spectrum diagnosis means disclosure of the fundamentally flawed personhood implied by [autism's] diagnostic criteria. It is likely to precipitate a negative judgment of capacity involving permanent loss of credibility." In disclosing autism, we are both too autistic and not autistic enough...

I can pass for normal most of the time, but I understand perfectly why some of my autistic patients scream and flap their arms -- it's to frighten off extroverts.

I don't want to answer so I wait. Because sometimes if you don't answer then someone will answer for you or someone will say something else to help you know what to say.

I don't like crowds of people in general. When they're all talking at the same time, and making noise. Crowds are the worst ... All the lights and the shouting and the people. It's like broken glass in my head.

I do not subscribe to functioning labels because functioning labels are inaccurate and dehumanizing, because functioning labels fail to capture the breadth and complexity and highly contextual interrelations of one's neurology and environment, both of which are plastic and malleable and dynamic. Functioning is the corporeal gone capitalistic -- it is an assumption that one's body and being can be quantitatively measured, that one's bodily outputs and bodily actions are neither outputs nor actions unless commodifiable.

I fall for centuries of life. First sunlight touches this hillside; and buried inside the earth, a seed stirs, turning slowly in the deep soil like a tadpole turning itself in a dank pool.

If coloured lenses can potentially stop the world seeming fragmented and put an end to nightmare distortions, then the learner with autism who shows signs of visual stress deserves to be screened.

I felt the bark of the trees on either side of me as I walked. I could reach out with my fingertips and touch their bark as I passed. The skin of the trees was warm in the sunlight, and rough, and I imagined that each tree contained a soul.

I felt the bark of the trees on either side of me as I walked. It was very soothing. Here in the LBA Woods, the trees grew very close together and when I did not walk on the path, I would reach out with my fingertips and touch their bark as I passed. The skin of the trees was warm in the sunlight, and rough, and I imagined that each tree contained a soul. Like an Ent. I knew this idea was not a true thing, but still I felt good that the trees were here.

If I tried to describe what it’s like to be nonverbal in the World of the Verbal in a single word, I’d choose this one: agony. And yet, this is also true: if we know there is even a single person who understands what it’s like for us, that’s solace enough to give us hope.

If you are sincerely looking for God, you are sure to find him because he will never abandon anyone who wants a relationship with him. In fact, your difficulties can help you look more intently for God so that you can see him- right by your side.

If the thought of losing someone doesn't scare the shit out of you, then it's not love

If we can't start by seeing an autistic child as inherently capable, interesting, and valuable, no amount of education or therapy we layer on top is going to matter.

If [Patricia Highsmith] saw an acquaintance walking down the sidewalk she would deliberately cross over so as to avoid them. When she came in contact with people, she realised she split herself into many different, false, identities, but, because she loathed lying and deceit, she chose to absent herself completely rather than go through such a charade. Highsmith interpreted this characteristic as an example of 'the eternal hypocrisy in me', rather her mental shape-shifting had its source in her quite extraordinary ability to empathise. Her imaginative capacity to subsume her own identity, while taking on the qualities of those around her - her negative capability, if you like - was so powerful that she said she often felt like her inner visions were far more real than the outside world. She aligned herself with the mad and the miserable, 'the insane man who feels himself one with all mankind, all life, because in losing his mind, he has lost his ego, his self-ness', yet realised that such a state inspired her fiction. Her ambition, she said, was to write about the underlying sickness of this 'daedal planet' and capture the essence of the human condition: eternal disappointment.

If you can still wipe your own backside then life's not that bad!

I hope that this book will be my way of helping to clear the fog of mystery surrounding autism. And in passing on my personal story I hope to include with it the best and most valuable of what I have learned along the way both as a mother and in my two decades working as a paediatrician. I also hope it will encourage healthcare professionals to be advocates for families who patiently and willingly endure battles every day for the sake of their children. My book describes a wide range of resources and therapies that can help families of children with special needs and autism