Quotes About Memory

Only medical hypnosis is capable of opening up amnesia.

I think all creative people are operating from the fear that, of the best of what they did, will anybody remember it? Will anybody tell stories about them? Will anybody keep those pictures on the mantle long after they are gone? It's why people write stories. It's peoples' grave markers.

I've always been fascinated by the operation of memory - the way in which it is not linear but fragmented, and its ambivalence.

It is in the brain, and the brain only, that the great sins of the world take place also. You, Mr. Gray, you yourself, with yourrose-red youth and your rose-white boyhood, you have had passions that have made you afraid, thoughts that have filled you with terror, day-dreams and sleeping dreams whose mere memory might stain your cheek with shame…

There were sins whose fascination was more in the memory than in the doing of them, strange triumphs that gratified the pride more than the passions, and gave to the intellect a quickened sense of joy, greater than any joy they brought, or could ever bring, to the senses.

No woman should have a memory. Memory in a woman is the beginning of dowdiness. One can always tell from a woman's bonnet whether she has got a memory or not.

Biography lends to death a new terror.

Silently we went round and round, And through each hollow mind The memory of dreadful things Rushed like a dreadful wind, And horror stalked before each man, And terror crept behind.

I keep a diary in order to enter the wonderful secrets of my life. If I didn't write them down, I should probably forget all about them.' 'Memory, my dear Cecily, is the diary that we all carry about with us.

We lose too soon, and only find delight In withered husks of some dead memory.

That's an awful thing,a womans memory

memory, like a horrible malady, was eating his soul away

I forget what killed it. I think it was her proposing to sacrifice the whole world for me. That is always a dreadful moment. It fills one with the terror of eternity.

She sang of the Love that is perfected by death, of the Love that dies not in the tomb.

I want the dead lovers of the world to hear our laughter, and grow sad. I want a breath of our passion to stir dust into consciousness, to wake their ashes into pain.

It had brought melancholy across his passions. Its mere memory had marred many moments of joy. It had been like conscience to him. Yes, it had been conscience. He would destroy it.

That awful thing, a woman's memory!

Though forgiveness was impossible, forgetfulness was possible still, and he was determined to forget

Olvidar un hecho, es modificar el pasado.

We degenerate into hideous puppets, haunted by the memory of the passions of which we were too much afraid, and the exquisite temptations that we had not the courage to yield to. Youth! Youth! There is absolutely nothing in the world but youth!

The past could always be annihilated. Regret, denial, or forgetfulness could do that.

He was prisoned in thought. Memory, like a horrible malady, was eating his soul away.

the remembrance even of joy having its bitterness, and the memories of pleasure their pain.

Sweet, there is nothing left to say But this, that love is never lost