Quotes About Memory

Old man she said, have you lived so long and forgotten so much that you don't remember anything you ever knew or felt about love?

Babam?n insanlar uzun zaman ölü kalabilmeye haz?rlanmak için yaÅŸarlar dediÄŸi akl?ma geldi.

I would think about his name until after a while I could see the word as a shape, a vessel, and I would watch him liquefy and flow into it like cold molasses flowing out of the darkness into the vessel, until the jar stood full and motionless: a significant shape profoundly without life like an empty door frame; and then I would find that I had forgotten the name of the jar.

Defeats, humiliations- craven avoidance- burn into memory so much more deeply than their opposites.

There were plenty of things I was actually glad I had left unsaid. Still, the comment haunted me. It haunts me today. All the things I wish I had said when I had the chance. A moment recurs. We were

There were plenty of things I was actually glad I had left unsaid. Still, the comment haunted me. It haunts me today. All the things I wish I had said when I had the chance.

He stood there unsteady in the cold, mumbling syllables which almost resolved into her name, as though he could recall, and summon back, a time before death entered the world, before accident, before magic, and before magic despaired, to become religion.

Go out among them and tell them that their nostalgia for places they have never been is sex

She was a page torn from a calendar, a year folded neatly and laid aside in some place you never look.

Seems like it's peaceful, just bein' in a country that lays the way you remember it layin

He was wishing the past was a place you could backtrack to, take a sideroad you'd walked hurriedly past, wake somebody from a bad dream he was having.

Time moves in one direction, memory in another.

It was hot, the night we burned Chrome.

If you're fifteen or so, today, I suspect that you inhabit a sort of endless digital Now, a state of atemporality enabled by our increasingly efficient communal prosthetic memory. I also suspect that you don't know it, because, as anthropologists tell us, one cannot know one's own culture.

Something he'd found and lost so many times. It belonged, he knew – he remembered – as she pulled him down, to the meat, the flesh the cowboys mocked. It was a vast thing, beyond knowing, a sea of information coded in spiral and pheromone, infinite intricacy that only the body, in its strong blind way, could ever read.

Power, in Case's world, meant corporate power. The zaibatsus, the multinationals that shaped the course of human history, had transcended old barriers. Viewed as organisms, they had attained a kind of immortality. You couldn't kill a zaibatsu by assassinating a dozen key executives; there were others waiting to step up the ladder, assume the vacated position, access the vast banks of corporate memory...

In Heathrow a vast chunk of memory detached itself from a blank bowl of airport sky and fell on him. He vomited into a blue plastic canister without breaking stride.

He never saw Molly again.

I have already told you of the sickness and confusion that comes with time travelling. —H. G. WELLS

Honey," Jammer said, "you'll learn. Some things you teach yourself to remember to forget.

History had its fascinations, but could be burdensome.

How it was, when you lost things, it was like you only knew for the first time that you'd ever had them. (...) You didn't wake up every morning and say yes and yes to every little thing. But little things were what it was all made of. Or just somebody to see, there, when you woke up.

Had me this boy once. You kinda remind me . . ." She turned and surveyed the corridor. "Johnny, his name was.

Not if I remember to take my pills, he said, as a tangible wave of longing hit him, lust and loneliness riding in on the wavelength of amphetamine.