Quotes About Memory

In every man the memory of the struggles and the heroes of the past is alive. But these memories are not incompatible with the desire for peace in the future.

A friend who dies, it's something of you who dies.

To-day the majority of the great men who have swayed men's minds no longer have altars, but they have statues, or their portraits are in the hands of their admirers, and the cult of which they are the object is not notably different from that accorded to their predecessors.

history is scarcely capable of preserving the memory of anything except myths.

Los suspiros son aire y van al aire! ¡Las lágrimas son agua y van al mar! Dime, mujer, cuando el amor se olvida ¿sabes tú adónde va?

Me cuesta trabajo saber qué cosas he soñado y cuáles me han sucedido. Mis afectos se reparten entre fantasmas de la imaginación y personajes reales.

History is no longer as it was for the Greeks, an anamnesis, a remembrance. It is rather a thrust into the future.

Ik zou het op prijs stellen wanneer u deze namen uit uw hoofd leerde opzeggen, ook in omgekeerde volgorde.

Our memory is a more perfect world than the universe: it gives back life to those who no longer exist.

A human being - what is a human being? Everything and nothing. Through the power of thought it can mirror everything it experiences. Through memory and knowledge it becomes a microcosm, carrying the world within itself. A mirror of things, a mirror of facts. Each human being becomes a little universe within the universe!

Because with time blocking out the bad, memory is always bound to be a bit naive and stupidly optimistic.

avec le temps qui se charge d'effacer les mauvais moments, la mémoire garde à jamais son côté naïf et stupidement positif.

With books you learn things, random things, whatever the author might be talking to you about, and you sort of soak them up like a sponge over the years. They are stored away in some dim recess of the unconscious mind until one day some equally random stimulus sparks a connection, and you find that you've combined different items of memory and perception into a completely new insight.

We see only glimpses of history, even our own. It is not entirely ours--in memory, in writing it down, in hearing or in reading it. We can reclaim only part of the past. Sometimes it is enough....

Memory was talisman and ward for him, gateway and hearth. It was pride and love, shelter from loss: for if something could remembered, it was not wholly lost. Not dead and gone forever.

And it is always difficult, even with the best will in the world, to look back a long way and see anything resembling the truth.

A song remembers a home, another conjures fear that home will fall to those who would destroy it. A poet places wine glasses on a fountain's rim under stars. An artist sets his lost wife on a dome . . . amid stars. A dancer lets the music be what she is, until it stops. Someone made the music, someone plays it while she dances.

You do not honour them by living as if you, too, have died

But when a place has been an island the memory of water lingers, and of water magic, no matter how far away the sea may be, or how long ago it fell away. And

Forgetting is part of our lives, my lord. Sometimes it is a blessing, or we could never move beyond loss.

He was also aware that memory could mislead you, or be lost. He vividly remembered the day he was married, for example, but everything blurred in and around the time his wife had died, and that was much, much later.

Could one forget how to be free?

My third glass of a night is blue, Alessan said. The third glass I drink is always of blue wine. In memory of something lost. Lest on any single night I forget what it is I am alive to do.

We will leave a name.