Quotes About Memory

I'm not into watching stuff I did last week, let alone three or four years ago.

We grasp at symbols, talismans, triggers of association to what's forever gone.

to understand infatuation, how the loved person can become a holding pattern for all the tattered ends of memory, experience and thought you've ever had.

We suicide ourselves for our own survival. Is there any hope of dipping back into the past and circling round it like you can in art?

I will have spent my life trying to understand the function of remembering, which is not the opposite of forgetting, but rather its lining. We do not remember. We rewrite memory much as history is rewritten. How can one remember thirst?

He liked the fragility of those moments suspended in time. Those memories whose only function is to leave just a trace in memory.

The first image he told me about was of three children on a road in Iceland, in 1965. He said that for him it was the image of happiness and also that he had tried several times to link it to other images, but it never worked. He wrote me: one day I'll have to put it all alone at the beginning of a film with a long piece of black leader; if they don't see happiness in the picture, at least they'll see the black.

Rien ne distingue les souvenirs des autres moments: ce n'est que plus tard qu'ils se font reconnaître, à leurs cicatrices.

The dead are apparitions that both haunt and guide us. And maybe they've earned it. Most times, they can teach us our own history better than any book.

I think back to my father, and the fact that the dead are the only extinguished lights we can never really see again.

the two main types of memory chip—DRAM and NAND—are produced by only a couple of firms.

The market for NAND, the other main type of memory chip, is also Asia-centric. Samsung, the biggest

Time piles up like brush. You burn it in the fall and all you remember are the glowing cinders. I got ash heaps everywhere I look. -Old of the Moon

If you didn't cry in season four's episode 'The Constant,' something is wrong with you; you were either distracted or, worse, it is possible you have no soul.

At one time, most of my friends could hear the bell, but as years passed, it fell silent for all of them. Even Sarah found one Christmas that she could no longer hear its sweet sound. Though I've grown old, the bell still rings for me, as it does for all who truly believe.

As I've gotten older I've occasionally found myself nostalgic for earlier periods of solitude, though I realize that's also likely a false nostalgia, as I know there was nothing I wanted more during those periods than to not be alone, whatever that means.

Conveniently then he can forget it all exists. And, after a time only a general notion will remain in his mind, that there are places where he doesn't belong, and those where he seems to fall right in.

Unlike prose writing, the strange process of writing with pictures encourages associations and recollections to accumulate literally in front of your eyes; people, places, and events appear out of nowhere. Doors open into rooms remembered from childhood, faces form into dead relatives, and distant loves appear, almost magically, on the page- all deceptively manageable, visceral, the combinations sometimes even revelatory.

In fact, he couldn't remember the last time he'd had anything to eat.

Although Walter was the first to admit that his own memory wasn't the best—that he forgot people's names all the time even when he'd been introduced more than once—he

He found himself struck by a sudden fear that something might happen to him in the future that would destroy his memory. Some kind of disease or mental breakdown.

Nina's gun was on the floor beside her, forgotten.

ac?, bize birbirimizi hat?rlats?n. sonradan kar??la?t???m?zda ondan tan?yaca??z birbirimizi, bir sonra varsa e?er.

It didn't happen the way one can tell it; but if once can tell it as it was, then one wasn't in on it, or it all happened so long ago that candor comes too easily. In order to make the story tellable, one has to separate and put into sequence events which in reality were so entangled as to be inexplicable...