Quotes About Memory

She watched him a while longer and then shut her eyes again. And even though she knew her hand was tucked beneath her cheek and he was on the far side of the room, the instant she closed her eyes he was there beside her again, his hands crossed on his chest and her hand held tightly under them, pressed safely against his heart. Who

He thought each memory recalled must do some violence to its origins. As in a party game. Say the words and pass it on. So be sparing. What you alter in the remembering has yet a reality, known or not.

Just remember that the things you put into your head are there forever, he said.

How surely are the dead beyond death. Death is what the living carry with them. A state of dread, like some uncanny foretaste of a bitter memory. But the dead do not remember and nothingness is not a curse. Far from it.

Life is a memory, and then it is nothing.

From daydreams on the road there was no waking. He plodded on. He could remember everything of her save her scent. Seated in a theatre with her beside him leaning forward listening to the music. Gold scrollwork and sconces and the tall columnar folds of the drapes at either side of the stage. She held his hand in her lap and he could feel the tops of her stockings through the thin stuff of her summer dress. Freeze this frame. Now call down your dark and your cold and be damned.

Things separate from their stories have no meaning. They are only shapes. Of a certain size and color. A certain weight. When their meaning has become lost to us they no longer have even a name. The story on the other hand can never be lost from its place in the world for it is that place.

You know that the things you put it your head stay there, right?' 'Yeah. But you remember some things, don't you?' 'Yeah. You remember the things you want to forget and forget the things you want to remember.

She was gone and the coldness of it was her final gift.

What you alter in the remembering has yet a reality, known or not.

He didn't say a lot so I tend to remember what he did say. And I don't remember that he had a lot of patience with havin to say things twice so I learned to listen the first time.

Each memory recalled must do some violence to its origins.

Rich dreams now which he was loathe to wake from. Things no longer known in the world. The cold drove him forth to mend the fire. Memory of her crossing the lawn toward the house in the early morning in a thin rose gown that clung to her breasts. He thought each memory recalled must do some violence to its origins. As in a party game. Say the words and pass it on. So be sparing. What you alter in the remembering has yet a reality, known or not.

Just remember that the things you put into your head are there forever, he said. You might want to think about that.

There was someone there and they had been there. There was no one there. There was someone there and they had been there and they had not left but there was no one there.

Scars have the strange power to remind us that our past is real. The events that cause them can never be forgotten, can they?

There is no book and your fathers are dead in the ground.

What you put in your head is there forever.

That he could not enkindle in the heart of the child what was ashes in his own.

I was a soldier. It is like a dream. When even the bones is gone in the desert the dreams is talk to you, you don't wake up forever.

We would hardly wish to know ourselves again as once we were and yet we mourn the days.

Those who cannot see must rely upon what has gone before. If I do not wish to appear so foolish as to drink from an empty glass I must remember whether I have drained it or not.

He thought each memory recalled must do some violence to its origins.

Men's memories are uncertain and the past that was differs little from the past that was not