Quotes About Memory

And knowing, too, that this sort of artistry could not endure past the shaping moment, could only be spoken of after by those who recalled, or misrecalled, who had seen and half seen and not seen at all, distorted by memory and desire and ignorance, the achievement of it written as if on water or on sand. It mattered, terribly, and just now it didn't matter at all. Or could the fragility, the defining impermanence actually intensify the glory? The thing lost as soon as made?

Maybe it is the art that will outlive us all.

I haven't always found that it is our intentions, the decisions we make, that shape and guide our lives. The opposite, just as often, it seems to me. Impulse creates our stories, or chance, the entirely unforeseen. And what we remember of our own past can be unpredictable. I didn't learn this at school in Avegna, but I think Guarino would have agreed.

Another breeze, entering the room. Dawn wind. He would be going home soon. He would sit with her, and look out upon the sea. Morning was coming, the god's return. Almost time to rise and go to prayer. The bed was very soft. Almost time, but the darkness had not quite lifted, light still to come, he could linger a little with memory. It was necessary, it was allowed. End it with the ending of a night.

I knew, once, a woman diamond bright, and two men I will not forget. I played a part in a story in a fierce, wild, windblown time. I do have that. I always will. I am here and it is mine, for as near to always as we are allowed.

Le passé reste avec nous jusqu'à notre mort", avait écrit Protonias longtemps auparavant, "et nous devenons ensuite le souvenir d'autres personnes, jusqu'à ce qu'elles meurent à leur tour.

With her words the moment passed, the world moved on again: time, the flowing river, the moons. And the delicate thing that had been in the air between them - whatever it might have been named - fell, as it seemed to Jehane, softly to rest in the grass by the water. 'Goodbye,' he said. 'Be always blessed, on all the paths of your life. My dear.' And then he said her name.

I said 'I was imagining you as a little boy, and as a teenager, and as an old man.' He said: 'I was looking at you and thinking how young you look, and how old at the same time.

Abortions will not let you forget. You remember the children you got that you did not get, The damp small pulps with a little or with no hair, The singers and workers that never handled the air. You will never neglect or beat Them, or silence or buy with a sweet. You will never wind up the sucking-thumb Or scuttle off ghosts that come.

And remembering…Remembering, with twinklings and twinges,As they lean over the beans in their rented back room that is full of beads and receipts and dolls and cloths, tobacco crumbs, vases and fringes.

Abortions will not let you forget.You remember the children you got that you did not get.

Since a man must bring To music what his mother spanked him for When he was two: bits of forgotten hate, Devotion: whether or not his mattress hurts: The little dream his father humored: the thing His sister did for money: what he ate For breakfast—and for dinner twenty years Ago last autumn: all his skipped desserts.

It is not necessary, says Yvonne, to have every day with him whom to the end thereof you will love. Because it is tasty to remember he is alive, and laughs in somebody else's room. or is slicing a cucumber, or is buttoning his cuffs, or is signing with his pen and will plan to touch you again.

She was afraid to suggest to him that to most people, nothing "happens." That most people merely live from day to day until they die. That, after he had been dead a year, doubtless fewer than five people would think of him oftener than once a year. That there might even come a year when no one on earth would think of him at all.

Gyáva az a korszak, amely a maga egyidej? képi m?vészetét nem teremti meg, és szerencsétlenek azok a m?vészek, akik ilyen, a nemzeti emlékezetben semmiféle nyomot sem hagyó korszakban élnek.

Those who pay their bills on time are soon forgotten. It is only by not paying one's bills that one can hope to live in the memory of the commercial classes.

What you have loved remains yours.

El olvido es ahora la especialidad de su memoria.

Sabemos que no hay inicios de los tiempos; los tiempos son un continuo que la memoria marca para darse un orden y otorgar un sentido a lo que no tiene sentido.

El país recuerda demasiado y recuerda mal. En muchos sentidos, es prisionero de su pasado.

La ciudadanía mexicana tiene una memoria histórica vigorosa, pero llena de fantasías que ayudan poco a la construcción de una cultura democrática.

No se exagera mucho si se dice que, al final de la línea, la historia de México no la han escrito los triunfadores.

They will never forgive us for this Somewhere Else.

sometimes I wait for you at the exact edge of the jetty where we left each other. Sometimes I disappear into an unconscious hole and lie there silted up in stories having nothing to do with the vigorous immediacy of our epic.