Quotes About Memory

The man of whom I once was pleased to say, "He is my grandfather," has become the dead man who was my grandfather. He was, and is no more. And this is a part of the great mystery we call time.

The easy assumption that we have remembered the most important people and events and have preserved the most valuable evidence is immediately trumped by our inability to know what we have forgotten.

Both past and future were disappearing from them, the past because nobody would remember it, the future because nobody could imagine it.

help you realize that your present will someday be someone else's past.

subtitled it 'Everything you Always Wanted to Know About Driving Out to Remote Locations in the Upper Midwest to Find your Childhood Imaginary Friend but Were Afraid to Ask.

For me, reading that scene never fails to bring on a brief, scalding instant of recognition in recalling exactly what it was like to be a tiny little kid, your whole sense of being so lumpy and vulnerable that the smallest things were everything, and the everything could be so unspeakably wonderful, and the wonderful could be snatched away in an instant, leaving a big ragged hole in your universe just like the one in Laura's dress.

when the atrocities a person has lived through are passed over in silence for lack of any trace or archive, paying tribute to someone would be a hoax. How do you convey Africa's silences?" Then

Amos Vogel was a mentor, a guiding light for me. In his presence, you always rose. But his importance to me is of minor significance. What is significant is that with him an entire epoch ends. The Last Lion has left us. I am still not capable – or rather unwilling – to understand the fact that Amos passed away, because a man like him cannot be dead. His traces are everywhere. (on the passing of Amos Vogel, his friend for more than 45 years)

For such an advanced civilization as ours to be without images that are adequate to it is as serious a defect as being without memory.

but she never knew what it was like to walk away from the thing she had most wanted. Years later she would say, Photography allowed me to make the world and be in the world.

Maybe that's what a ghost is - a presence of the dead in the dreams of the living.

About nine feet six and I weigh twenty stone, he answered, and almost laughed aloud. And how does it end? It ends with words. Words can kill anything. It ends with cold words; words like fire that stick in the structure and take hold and lick it up, blackening and charring it, bringing it down in smoking ruins. It ends in suspicion of things not done, and in the certainty of things done and remembered. It

These are men whose minds the Dead have ravished. Memory fingers in their hair of murders Multitudinous murders they once witnessed. Wading sloughs of flesh these helpless wander, Treading blood from lungs that had loved laughter.

But let my death be memoried on this disc. Wear it, sweet friend. Inscribe no date nor deed. But let thy heart-beat kiss it night and day, Until the name grow vague and wear away.

Move him into the sun— Gently its touch awoke him once, At home, whispering of fields half-sown. Always it woke him, even in France, Until this morning and this snow. If anything might rouse him now The kind old sun will know

Do they matter?—those dreams from the pit?... You can drink and forget and be glad, And people won't say that you're mad; For they'll know you've fought for your country And no one will worry a bit.

With him they buried the muzzle his teeth had kissed, And truthfully wrote the Mother, Tim died smiling.

He has trifled with the sacred memory of my husband, thought the Professor's widow. On my life and honor, I will make him pay for it.

One after another those words travelled over my memory, repeating themselves again and again with a wearisome, mechanical reiteration. I was roused from what felt like a trance of many hours--from what was really, no doubt, the pause of a few moments only--by a voice calling to me.

They have tried to make me forget everything, Walter; but I remember Marian, and I remember you'--in that moment, I, who had long since given her my love, gave her my life, and thanked God that it was mine to bestow on her.

Erkekler bize söyledikleri ac? sözleri ne kadar iyi hat?rlad???m?z? ve can?m?z? nas?l yakt?klar?n? pek bilmezler.

The past and present rose side by side, at that supreme moment — and the contrast shook me.

Let my grave be forgotten. Give me your word of honour that you will allow no monument of any sort — not even the commonest tombstone — to mark the place of my burial. Let me sleep, nameless. Let me rest, unknown.

heard mother speak of him. Father? Ah, dear!