Quotes About Memory

Last scene of all that ends this strange, eventful history, is second childishness and mere oblivion. I am sans teeth, sans eyes, sans taste, sans everything.

Purpose is but the slave to memory, Of violent birth, but poor validity;

We have heard the chimes at midnight, Master Shallow.

How now, my sweet creature of bombast! How long is't ago, Jack, since thou saw'st thien own knee?

True it is that we have seen better days.

More are men's ends mark'd than their lives before: The setting sun, and music at the close, As the last taste of sweets, is sweetest last, Writ in remembrance more than things long past

When to the sessions of sweet silent thought I summon up remembrance of things past, I sigh the lack of many a thing I sought...

Prophet may you be! If I be false, or swerve a hair from truth, when time is old and hath forgot itself, when waterdrops have worn the stones of Troy, and blind oblivion swallowed cities up, and mighty states characterless are grated to dusty nothing, yet let memory, from false to false, among false maids in love, upbraid my falsehood!

Remember thee? Ay, thou poor ghost, while memory holds a seat in this distracted globe. Remember thee?

Praising what is lost makes the remembrance dear

i knew him, Horatio

A pair of tribunes that have wrecked fair Rome to make coals cheap - a noble memory!

Lay her i' the earth; And from her fair and unpolluted flesh May violets spring!

One that was a woman, sir; but, rest her soul, she's dead.

Não podeis ministrar algum remédio A um espírito enfermo, e da memória Arrancar-lhe uma dor enraizada, Apagar-lhe os escrúpulos gravados Na alma? Não conheceis algum nepente Capaz de lhe extirpar a um peito inquieto A matéria que pesa insuportável No coração?

Sebastian says modestly that though his twin resembled him very much , she was reputed to be beautiful. But more importantly, she had a mind that was just and beautiful. she drowned in salt water, leaving sebastian to drown her memories in the salt water of his tears.

every plan breaks easily, Because the intention is a slave to memory At the moment of birth, it digs itself a grave, Like a fruit, that holds to a branch, while green. And when it matures, it falls itself from the three.

Pero, ¿cómo es que eso aún vive en tu mente? ¿Qué más ves en el oscuro fondo y abismo del tiempo? (Próspero)

My oblivion is a very Antony and I am all forgotten.

But my behavior was really the result of the illness, which had progressed far enough to produce some of its most famous and sinister hallmarks: confusion, failure of mental focus and lapse of memory.

This memory of my relative indifference is important because such indifference demonstrates powerfully the outsider's inability to grasp the essence of the illness.

Remember. Oh, remember. How remember moments of forgotten time? Where is the way now (she wondered) through that dark up-spreading wood? Leaf, locust, sunlight in the hollow, all those she had known, all had fled like years. Now silence sounds where no light falls, and she has lost the way.

What causes human beings to inflict upon themselves these stupid little scissor snips of unhappy remembrance?

She was determined to put behind her the madness of the past—or as much as a vulnerable and memory-racked mind permitted—