Quotes About Memory

Even so,—a million years after we shall have ceased to view the sun,—will the gladness and grief of our own lives pass with richer music into other hearts—there to bestir, for one mysterious moment, some deep and exquisite thrilling of voluptuous pain.

I'm German in my mind, but from a Germany that doesn't exist anymore.

I cannot tell you if the dead, Who loved us fondly when on earth, Walk by our side, sit at our hearth, By ties of old affection led.... But this I know--in many dreams They come to us from realms afar, And leave the golden gates ajar Through which immortal glory streams.

for it traded what should never be traded. It delivered me into the unknown and erased my father's name. I could not know that this was just the first of many erasures. I

the things you say to impress a beautiful woman have an odd way of being repeated to you when you least expect them.

You miss Azemmur, she said. Yes, I said. And I have grown so used to the pain of missing it that sometimes I feel as though I have learnt to walk after an imputation. But now, Oyomasot, it is as if I can sense that severed limb again.

The present could never be untethered from the past, you couldn't understand one without the other.

The worst moment of one's life could be seared into the memory, brighter than any joy.

I'm lucky I'm even alive," she announced. "When I was little, I sucked on duck eyeballs.

You're doing so well." At being Thiago, she meant. "It's a little eerie." "Eerie," he repeated. "Convincing. A few times I almost forgot--" He didn't let her finish. "Don't forget. Not ever. Not for a second." He drew in breath. "Please." So much behind that word. Please don't forget I'm not a monster. Please don't forget what I gave up. Please don't forget me.

Her lips were still moving, whispering the same words over and over. "They were all I could carry. They were all I could carry.

Lazlo had loved Sarai as a dream, and he would love her as a ghost as well.

Walking through, Karou experienced it all in a rush of old and new experience that was like the convergence of two swift rivers: Madrigal's memory and Karou's marvel, merging at every step.

Karou was plagued by the notion that she wasn't whole. She didn't know what this meant, but it was a lifelong feeling, a sensation akin to having forgotten something. She'd tried describing it to Issa once, when she was a girl. "It's like you're standing in the kitchen, and you know you went in there for a reason, but you can't think of what that reason is, no matter what.

The mind is good at hiding things, but it can't erase. It can only conceal, and concealed things are not gone.

Again his memory failed to conjure her face. It was like trying to call up a melody while another song played.

He'd felt this before and never wanted to feel it again. It could only diminish the memory of Madrigal; it already was. Again his memory failed to conjure her face. It was like trying to call up a melody while another song played

For what was a person but the sum of all the scraps of their memory and experience: a finite set of components with an infinite array of expressions.

Los nombres pueden perderse u olvidarse. No había nadie que lo supiera mejor que Lazlo Strange. Anteriormente tuvo otro nombre, pero aquel nombre murió como mueren las canciones cuando ya no queda nadie que las cante.

The Muse of Nightmares was dead.

He couldn't remember the other monks' names, or even the prayers that had been his vocation for decades, but the stories poured from him, and Lazlo listened. He listened the way a cactus drinks rain

What happened fifteen years ago? What power could erase a name from the minds of the world? Lazlo wanted to go and find out. That was his dream, daring and magnificent: to go there, half across the world, and solve the mysteries for himself. It was impossible, of course. But when did that ever stop any dreamer from dreaming?

Quelle sono le nostre madri». La sua voce era aspra. «Noi siamo spade, così ci dicono, e le spade non hanno madre né padre, ma io ne ho avuta una un tempo, e non riesco nemmeno a ricordarne il nome.»

The mind is good at hiding things, but there's something it cannot do: It can't erase. It can only conceal, and concealed things are not gone. They rot. They fester, they leak poisons. They ache and stink. They hiss like serpents in tall grass.