theme,metaphor,work_id,dictionary,provenance,id,created_at,updated_at,reviewed_on,comments,text,context
"","""And at the same time, a censor somewhere in my brain was simplifying things for me, helping me to cope with the necessary.""",6732,"",Searching the book at amazon.om,17923,2010-07-02 15:30:31 UTC,2010-07-02 15:30:31 UTC,,"","Panic was still giving me a wide berth. And at the same time, a censor somewhere in my brain was simplifying things for me, helping me to cope with the necessary. For instance, Jacob, my youngest son, and I were due that day to go off to the French River cabin of a good friend. Not for a moment did I think of it. It wasn't a matter that needed serious thought at that moment. It would keep, and my brain filed it away for later. Nor did I think of my friend and companion Laura, who was off in Turkey, visiting historic sites. My instincts seemed to be favoring simplicity. Don't complicate matters. I was like a dying cat: I sought out a quiet place in which to get on with it without panic or excitement.
(p. 29)",""
"","""It would keep, and my brain filed it away for later.""",6732,"",Searching book at amazon.com,17924,2010-07-02 15:31:57 UTC,2010-07-02 15:31:57 UTC,,"","Panic was still giving me a wide berth. And at the same time, a censor somewhere in my brain was simplifying things for me, helping me to cope with the necessary. For instance, Jacob, my youngest son, and I were due that day to go off to the French River cabin of a good friend. Not for a moment did I think of it. It wasn't a matter that needed serious thought at that moment. It would keep, and my brain filed it away for later. Nor did I think of my friend and companion Laura, who was off in Turkey, visiting historic sites. My instincts seemed to be favoring simplicity. Don't complicate matters. I was like a dying cat: I sought out a quiet place in which to get on with it without panic or excitement.
(p. 29)",""
"","""I have a brain full of remembered names but the road is often blocked with rubble.""",6732,"",Searching book at amazon.com,17925,2010-07-02 15:35:10 UTC,2010-07-02 15:35:10 UTC,,"","Besides, I had other, related problems. When I saw faces, I found that I couldn't place them at once. Sometimes, I couldn't place them unless they let slip some clue. Were they relatives or former colleagues? Recognizing faces had become a minor headache: I usually could decipher who they were in a short time, once I could occupy my leftover mind with something other than the problem of putting a name on the person talking to me. This resembled the glitch in the memory of many older people. Everybody, at one time or another, struggles to remember the name of a friend, a movie, or a novel. Even Dr. Alzheimer. I had serious problems here. I have a brain full of remembered names but the road is often blocked with rubble.
(p. 52)",""
"","""[M]y brain ... did most of what I wanted it to do, but it had sand traps that I learned to avoid.""",6732,"",Searching book at amazon.com,17926,2010-07-02 15:37:36 UTC,2010-07-02 15:42:31 UTC,,"","Gradually, I got the hang of the way my brain was working now. It did most of what I wanted it to do, but it had sand traps that I learned to avoid. I knew I could no longer rely on the ""sticking plaster"" of memory. I could forget a word in the second part of what I was saying, even though I had already used the word a moment earlier. I could no longer depend on being able to say what I had in mind. I had to work my way through what I had on my mind to say before I said it. And when an idea for additional information to throw into a discussion came into my head, it often evaporated when I was on the point of saying it. This obstacle turned me into more of a listener than a talker, which gave my friends some relief.
(pp. 64-5)",""
"","""I knew I could no longer rely on the 'sticking plaster' of memory""",6732,"","Reading Oliver Sacks, ""A Man of Letters,"" The New Yorker June 28, 2010, p. 28.",17927,2010-07-02 15:39:54 UTC,2010-07-02 15:42:02 UTC,,"","Gradually, I got the hang of the way my brain was working now. It did most of what I wanted it to do, but it had sand traps that I learned to avoid. I knew I could no longer rely on the ""sticking plaster"" of memory. I could forget a word in the second part of what I was saying, even though I had already used the word a moment earlier. I could no longer depend on being able to say what I had in mind. I had to work my way through what I had on my mind to say before I said it. And when an idea for additional information to throw into a discussion came into my head, it often evaporated when I was on the point of saying it. This obstacle turned me into more of a listener than a talker, which gave my friends some relief.
(pp. 64-5)",""
"","""And when and idea for additional information to throw into a discussion came into my head, it often evaporated when I was on the point of saying it.""",6732,"","Reading Oliver Sacks, ""A Man of Letters,"" The New Yorker June 28, 2010, p. 28.",17928,2010-07-02 15:41:34 UTC,2010-07-02 15:41:34 UTC,,"","Gradually, I got the hang of the way my brain was working now. It did most of what I wanted it to do, but it had sand traps that I learned to avoid. I knew I could no longer rely on the ""sticking plaster"" of memory. I could forget a word in the second part of what I was saying, even though I had already used the word a moment earlier. I could no longer depend on being able to say what I had in mind. I had to work my way through what I had on my mind to say before I said it. And when an idea for additional information to throw into a discussion came into my head, it often evaporated when I was on the point of saying it. This obstacle turned me into more of a listener than a talker, which gave my friends some relief.
(pp. 64-5)
",""
"","""But at the back door of my mind I ruminated on the New York visit, recalling the details of Dr. Sack's office, his manner and kindness.""",6732,"",Searching book at amazon.com,17929,2010-07-02 15:44:06 UTC,2010-07-02 15:44:06 UTC,,"","Back in Toronto, I resumed work on my book with a will. It seemed to be going faster now. I could still dish it out at my old speed, but got into trouble when I had to back and read what I'd just done. But at the back door of my mind I ruminated on the New York visit, recalling the details of Dr. Sack's office, his manner and kindness. I'm not sure why I've done this. More important, I'm not certain why I went to see him in the first place. I didn't expect to become a patient; he didn't recommend a specialist who was able to get me reading again. Perhaps I felt as though I'd taken my complaint to the chairman of the board. I didn't feel as isolated. I knew now that there were others who were similarly cut down.
(p. 117)",""