Best 444 quotes in «autism quotes» category

William Stillman's Autism and the God Connection is a sensitive and illuminating work which could dramatically change how we view autism.

William Stillman continues his fascinating exploration of the myriad connections between autism and human personality. The Soul of Autism makes a strong case for why we should embrace rather than fear the differences between us.

Without a doubt in my mind, I believe that vaccinations triggered Evan's autism.

Without intervention today, the cost of care for adults with autism will be significantly greater and the burden will no longer lie with the parents, but on our entire society.

Yes some people say ignorant things about autism but silencing them solves nothing. They need to be educated. That's how things change.

ABA never promised that it could make children normal. Just indistinguishable from normal.

You are the most brave intrepid person I have ever known, and you have dedicated your life to helping those who are misunderstood and underrepresented.

You take somebody - one person has definitely got autism, you got another person that maybe has some of those traits and maybe there's some anxiety, depression, some epilepsy or something in the family history. Put them together, you're more likely to have a severely autistic kid than if you don't have any neurological problems in the family history.

...ABA doesn't aim to offer neuroqueer children new repertoires of meaning. To smile isn't to signify one's contentment; it's to comply with a behavioral and prosocial demand.

After reading Burgum, [Patricia Highsmith] wrote in her cahier that, like Kafka, she felt she was a pessimist, unable to formulate a system in which an individual could believe in God, government or self. Again like Kafka, she looked into the great abyss which separated the spiritual and the material and saw the terrifying emptiness, the hollowness, at the heart of every man, a sense of alienation she felt compelled to explore in her fiction. As her next hero, she would take an architect, 'a young man whose authority is art and therefore himself,' who when he murders, 'feels no guilt or even fear when he thinks of legal retribution'. The more she read of Kafka the more she felt afraid as she came to realise, 'I am so similar to him.

Adapting our own perception, following rather than leading and building bridges are all keys to helping the child with autism learn.

A lie will go round the world while truth is pulling its boots on (Charles Haddon Spurgeon)

All people, whether Aspie or neuro-typical are predisposed by their society to make guesses, jump to conclusions and then seek to defend those conclusions, regardless of logic or changing circumstance. This is sloppy, illogical thinking which may not hinder your life too much, under normal circumstances. But if you want to be a great detective, then such thinking will absolutely ruin your chances.

And with a relentlessness that comes from the world's depths, with a persistence that strikes the keys metaphysically, the scales of a piano student keep playing over and over, up and down the physical backbone of my memory. It's the old streets with other people, the same streets that today are different; it's dead people speaking to me through the transparency of their absence; it's remorse for what I did or didn't do; it's the rippling of streams in the night, noises from below in the quiet building. I feel like screaming inside my head. I want to stop, to break, to smash this impossible phonograph record that keeps playing inside me, where it doesn't belong, an intangible torturer. I want my soul, a vehicle taken over by others, to let me off and go on without me. I'm going crazy from having to hear. And in the end it is I – in my odiously impressionable brain, in my thin skin, in my hypersensitive nerves – who am the keys played in scales, O horrible and personal piano of our memory.

Also I didn't habe 20/20 vision whch you needed to be a pilot. But I said you could still want something that is very unlikely to happen.

...and even now I still can't "do" a real conversation. I have no problem reading books aloud and singing, but as soon as I try to speak with someone, my words just vanish.

And I think for a moment, because people don't actually ask that very often. They tell me what they think I feel because they've read it in books, or they say incredible things like "autistic people have no sense of humour or imagination or empathy" when I'm standing right there beside them (and one day I'm going to point out that that is more than a little bit rude, not to mention Not Even True) or they -- even worse -- talk to me like I'm about five, and can't understand. "It's like living with all your senses turned up to full volume all the time," I say. "And it's like living life in a different language, so you can't ever quite relax because even when you think you're fluent it's still using a different part of your brain so by the end of the day you're exhausted.

Always be true to yourself and live your best life.

Among people who have autism and speech challenges, I think there will always be individuals whose “verbal blocks” come from the same place as mine. They too, I believe, can unlock language by referencing common points between memory scenes and the moment they’re in. This might take a great deal of practice, but their family, helpers and teachers mustn’t give up on them. The person with special needs will sense that resignation, lose their motivation and stop trying to speak. This can erode even their will to live. Believe me. Communication is the person, to a major degree. Please don’t be the first to walk away.

An inability, or reduced ability, to empathise is not the same as an inability to love. Love is a powerful feeling for another person, often defying logic.

Any given therapy method might well work to some degree for some people with autism, but no approach will work across the board for every person with the condition.

Are we allowing individuals to develop their talents with our current teaching methods? Is there more or maybe less we should be doing?

Art can permeate the very deepest part of us, where no words exist.

A rising tower of wood and needles and branches and great slabs of bark that has grown for hundreds of years. An impossible castle made from air and sunlight, fixed in place by the power of photosynthesis and chlorophyll. Magic. With lights.

As it represents and thus conceives of autism as a threat to the normative individual and social body, contemporary advocacy work issues an effective and powerful 'call to arms' against autism. The orientation of contemporary advocacy is clear: to be a 'good' autism advocate is to be positioned 'against' autism, to 'fight' it, 'combat' it, 'defeat' it, and so on. . . It is this war on autism that I take as my focus for the remainder of this book. I do this so as to interrogate how a militarized autism advocacy is systematically producing and sustaining a social environment that is hostile to autistic difference—an environment that, as we shall see, structures and supports possibilities for violence against those who embody autistic difference.

As a boy, Picasso struggled with reading, writing, and arithmetic. Einstein was slow to talk and would apply picture thinking to complex problems in the field of physics. The dividing line between psychiatric disorders and great gifts is often a very narrow one and strongly depends on how someone is viewed by their surroundings.

As autumn comes around the year's corner, the cicadas' lives come to an end. Human beings still have plenty of time in store, but we who have autism, who are semi-detached from the flow of time, we are always uneasy from sunrise to sunset. Just like cicadas, we cry out, we call out.

As far as I’m concerned, there’s no need whatsoever to “practice being bullied.” Acquiring superpowers of endurance is not something children need to be learning before they enter society at large. It is only the person being bullied who understands the true cost of what they suffer. People with no experience of being bullied have no idea how miserable it is to grow up being picked on the whole time.

A smaller plate got mixed in with the large ones I’m working on. I’m tempted to put it back into the dishwasher by the other plates that size, but that’s—that’s probably weird, I think, and Mirjam is looking, so I just set it aside for a stack of its own. “We were selected early on. We couldn’t make it on board sooner.” I have no idea if that lie will hold water, but Mirjam is nodding. “Gotcha. I was happy to move on board, myself. Someone broke into our house the other month—looking for food, I guess—and it didn’t feel safe after that. Plus, it was cold. We had to board up the window they broke, and couldn’t find anyone to fix it properly.” “That sucks,” I say—usually a safe response. “Tell me about it.” I have a nice stack of plates now. I put my hands on each side of it, straightening the stack before reaching for the first batch of small plates. There’s a sense of relief when I add them to the single plate I set aside.

A small step forward . . .every . . single . . .day. The sun is coming up and I am wondering, 'What wondrous thing shall I witness today?

As soon as [Patricia Highsmith] had stopped work, she felt purposeless and quite at a loss about what to do with herself. 'There is no real life except in working,' she wrote in her notebook, 'that is to say in the imagination.' It was in this state that she observed that only one situation would drive her to commit murder - being part of a family unit. Most likely, she thought, she would strike out in anger at a small child, felling them in one blow. But children over the age of eight, she surmised, would probably take two blows to kill. The reality of socialising with anyone, no matter how close, she said, left her feeling fatigued.

As per the terrorist narrative, the story of autism is told as a kind of 'spreading' pathology, infiltrating normative populations .. Knowing no borders or barriers, autism is framed as .. infiltrating homes, moving next door, and hiding in otherwise normative bodies. Figures of terror, in Bush's words, 'hide in the shadows' (Bush, 2001). Says the voice of autism in Cuaron's film [I am Autism]: they are 'invisible until it's too late' (Cuaron, 2009).

Autistics are not trapped or lost humans. I'm here, get used to it.

Autism is just the surface. What is inside each of us is what matters, autistic or not.

Autism is not a death sentence but a rich fulfilled life sentence so to speak.

Autism is preventable with a known cause and cure - the sunlight.

Autism: Where the "randomness of life" collides and clashes with an individual"s need for the sameness~

Autism is dominantly conceived of as a pathological threat to (normative, liberal versions of) individual life and is even framed as actively spoiling/wasting away this life.

autism is more like retina patterns than measles

Autism, is part of my child, it's not everything he is. My child is so much more than a diagnosis.

Autistic traits, taken together, represent everything that allistics devalue in an audience or social exchange.

Autism was, and would long remain, a diagnosis in the eye of the beholder.

Autists are the ultimate square pegs, and the problem with pounding a square peg into a round hole is not that the hammering is hard work. It's that you're destroying the peg.

Beloved children split in two. A child-with: part child, part autism. A part to love and a part to hate. A part to cultivate and a part to eliminate.. Such cultural orientation did not force [Karen] McCarron's .. hand in killing her child, but it nonetheless provides the necessary conditions .. to make this kind of violence possible and even—for those of us monitoring the headlines—normal.

Being the person that others expect me to be is so very tiring. I wish that I could just be me and my way of being a person is okay and accepted.

But in a home where grief is fresh and patience has long worn thin, making it through another day is often heroic in itself.

But had Minkowski and Einstein not recognized it long before us, our schizophrenic children would have taught us that space-time is a unity that precedes any separate understanding of either category; just as grasping this unity is a precondition for understanding causality.

Can you tell me how a meltdown feels?” She tilted her head to stare at the ceiling. “Itchy. And bad. You get so mad at yourself, because you know the thing that set you off isn’t worth the reaction you’re having, but you can’t control it. It’s like . . . knocking over a cup of tea. It goes everywhere, staining as it spreads, but you can’t take it back. You just have to get over yourself and mop up the mess.

Can you imagine how your life would be if you couldn't talk?

Children with disabilities are stronger than we know, they fight the battles that most will never know.