Quotes About Memory

Elsewhere, on the contrary, the frantic desire for the Almost Real arises only as a neurotic reaction to the vacuum of memories; the Absolute Fake is offspring of the unhappy awareness of a present without depth. 

the frantic desire for the Almost Real arises only as a neurotic reaction to the vacuum of memories; the Absolute Fake is offspring of the unhappy awareness of a present without depth.

We make lists because we don't want to die

Pero cuando Diotallevi y yo pensamos en construir un ars oblivionalis no pudimos descubrir las reglas del olvido. Es inútil: podemos ir en busca del tiempo perdido siguiendo exiguas huellas en el bosque, como Pulgarcito, pero somos incapaces de extraviar deliberadamente el tiempo reencontrado.

JednÄ… tylko rzecz pisze siÄ™ dla siebie i jest to lista zakupów. SÅ'u?y do zapamiÄ™tania, co masz kupi?, a kiedy ju? kupiÅ'eÅ›, mo?esz jÄ… podrze?, bo do niczego innego siÄ™ nie przyda. Wszystko inne piszesz, ?eby coÅ› komuÅ› powiedzie?.

En me retraçant ces détails, j'en suis à me demander s'ils sont réels, ou bien si je les ai rêvés.

It's always going to be like this, isn't it? she thought frantically. Whatever I want to do, it'll never be what Mom wants. And eventually, I'll start to forget what I wanted, and it'll be like I was never there at all.

Picard made sure Elnor got to bed, as he promised, and recited to him some of The Little Prince that he remembered.

Afterward I remembered these things very clearly, with that longing we feel sometimes to recover a state of life that we have lost for ever, though perhaps that we have lost it is all its value.

The gates of memory would roll open—old joys would stretch out their arms to them, old hopes and dreams would call to them, and they would stir beneath the burden that lay upon them, and feel its forever immeasurable weight. They could not even cry out beneath it; but anguish would seize them, more dreadful than the agony of death.

Now and then a visitor wept, to be sure; but this slaughtering machine ran on, visitors or no visitors. It was like some horrible crime committed in a dungeon, all unseen and unheeded, buried out of sight and of memory.

Her past life had become a sort of fairy tale, to which she listened gladly and asked questions. After the treatment had continued for two or three weeks she began to exclaim, "I believe I remember that!

Most of the boys Lanny had played with here, slightly older than himself, had died in Flanders. The sons they had left behind had died in the recent war; but the breed went on—generation after generation born, raised, educated at great expense and trouble, only to be slaughtered on some foreign field.

Freddi had been done to death by cruel forces which he himself had understood and had refused to bow to. Others also would have to learn about them, and find out how to save the world from hatreds and delusions which are the root of wars. If we would do this, we would be serving this dead man's memory and be worthy to meet him in whatever future abode the Creator of us all may have prepared.

What I will always remember about Havana is the light...All I can see is the blinding light of Havana. It's burned into my retina. It still hurts my eyes.

About The Memory of Silence: If it contributes to a better understanding of the contemporary history of Cuba and its diaspora, as well as the sufferings of all the peoples separated by ideologies or displaced by wars and other conflicts, all my efforts in writing it will be more than compensated.

People lived as they had always done; there was no break between past and present. All that had happened in the past had washed away; there was always only the present. It was as though, as a result of some disturbance in the heavens, the early morning light was always receding into the darkness, and men lived in a perpetual dawn

Neither my father nor grandfather could put dates to their stories. Not because they had forgotten or were confused; the past was simply the past.

Neither my father nor grandfather could put dates to their stories. Not because they had forgotten or were confused; the past was simply the past. I remember hearing from my grandfather that he had once shipped a boatful of slaves as a cargo of rubber. He couldn't tell me when he had done this. It was just there in his memory, floating around, without date or other association, as an unusual event in an uneventful life.

to be among the ruins was to have your time-sense unsettled.

You always remember the first time. Isn't that what they say about sex? How much more true it is of murder.

Her anger was a memory now. She didn't believe in bearing grudges. She believed in killing them where they lay.

With the passage of time, people's memories always edited the past. A lot of details slipped from their grasp, while others that had seemed trivial at the time took on greater weight.

As he often did, he remembered reading the opening of Raymond Chandler's The Big Sleep, where Philip Marlowe itemises his smartest outfit then observes, 'I was neat, clean, shaved and sober, and I didn't care who knew it. I was everything the well-dressed private detective ought to be. I was calling on four million dollars.