Quotes About Memory

She has a memory of trees and fields and nothing more.

what a community erects on its historical landscape not only sums up its view of the past but also influences its possible futures.

White mobs killed African Americans across the United States. Some of these events, like the 1919 Chicago riot, are well-known. Others, such as the 1921 riot in Tulsa, Oklahoma, in which whites dropped dynamite from airplanes onto a black ghetto, killing more than seventy-five people and destroying more than eleven hundred homes, have completely vanished from our history books.

Recovering the memory of the increasing oppression of African Americans during the first half of the twentieth century can deepen our understanding of the role racism has played in our society and continues to play today.

Memory says, "I did that." Pride replies, "I could not have done that." Eventually, memory yields. —FRIEDRICH NIETZSCHE3

How people think about the past is an important part of their consciousness.

He Is Not Dead I cannot say, and I will not say That he is dead. He is just away. With a cheery smile, and a wave of the hand, He has wandered into an unknown land And left us dreaming how very fair It needs must be, since he lingers there. And you—oh you, who the wildest yearn For an old-time step, and the glad return, Think of him faring on, as dear In the love of There as the love of Here. Think of him still as the same. I say, He is not dead—he is just away.

Selection is the very keel on which our mental ship is built. And in this case of memory its utility is obvious. If we remembered everything, we should on most occasions be as ill off as if we remembered nothing.

My black-headed black-eyed boy. I remember every day of you. How would I forget?

He was pal o' me heart, so he was. I try not to think of him, only I can't get him off my mind. He's with me always day and night. I do see him places he's never been, in the middle of a crowd I see him. His face looks out from the top of a tram, a schoolboy wouldn't pass but I'm thinking it's him. I try to make him go away, for I'm a soldier now and I'm under orders. But he's always there and I'm desperate to hold him. I doubt I'm a man expect he's by me.

Disciplines develop questions of their own and by doing so function as a mnemotechnique of forgetting with regard to concerns of a more general and fundamental character.

Something what attract our attention and eyes will remain in our memory.

Furthermore, when someone dies, why do they become a saint and suddenly blameless? Because no one wants to hear what he was really like," she said, answering her own question.

previous visit, she'd thought of Ariana.

Stanislaus Jean, chevalier de Boufflers, once wrote: "Pleasure is the flower that passes; remembrance, the lasting perfume." How can it be that our pleasure is as fleeting as the flower? —DB

Thought assists memory in enabling it to order the material it has assembled. So that in a systematically ordered memory every idea is individually followed by all conclusions it entails.

In the convex driving-mirror she could see, dwindling rapidly, the patch of road where they had stood; and she wondered why it had never occurred to her before that you cannot successfully navigate the future unless you keep always framed beside it a small clear image of the past.

The unfortunate ones of the world were subjected to a more lingering torment, and the fortunate ones were merely condemned to watch it from a front seat, unwilling tricoteuses at an execution they were powerless to prevent. The least they could do was not to turn away their eyes; for with such a picture stamped upon the retina of their memory they would not be able to lie easy until they had done their best to ensure that it could never happen again.

As the past disappears, I keep getting lost.

You must learn some of my philosophy. Think only of the past as its remembrance gives you pleasure.

when pain is over, the remembrance of it often becomes a pleasure.

Dare not say that man forgets sooner than woman, that his love has an earlier death.

We certainly do not forget you, so soon as you forget us. It is, perhaps, our fate rather than our merit. We cannot help ourselves.

I cannot forget the follies and vices of others so soon as I ought, nor their offences against myself...My good opinion once lost is lost forever. - Fitzwilliam Darcy