Quotes About Memory

This is not intended as a record or a chronicle, but the poetry of fossils, a reminiscence of the end of civilization. The dinosaurs left behind almost no trace of themselves. A few bones preserved in the amber, the contents of their stomachs, their waste. I only hope that we may leave behind something more than they did.

Life is rarely about what happened; it's mostly about what we think happened.

We'll be remembered more for what we destroy than what we create.

I don't want to die without any scars.

By the time you read this, you'll be older than you remember.

My goal is more to be remembered. They'll remember this thing and like it in the future. The trick is to stay remembered long enough for that to happen.

It is difficult to remember all, and ungracious to omit any.

History is the witness that testifies to the passing of time; it illumines reality, vitalizes memory, provides guidance in daily life and brings us tidings of antiquity.

And it's not just a matter of you hurting me. I will hurt you too, even if I don't want to, I'm not the girl you think I am. And you will remember this conversation , and wish that you'd listened to me.

They were like two pieces of a failed star, drawn together by a shared history and a memory of illicit kisses.

More and more, there were no revelations, but simply the uncovering of truths long known but dimly remembered. Everything had been written long ago. There was nothing truly new in the world, but only the slow, circular march of time that revealed the old things once again.

As for my family, my father was Danel; he died as a mercenary in the southern wars," Han went on. "My mother's name was Sarah, called Sali, and my sister was Mari. They died last summer. But then, you already knew that. Every time you forget, I'll remind you. That's the blood sacrifice I made to be here, and that's enough.

Complicated. And yet—simple. They were like two pieces of a failed star, drawn together by a shared history and a memory of illicit kisses.

Crow shrugged. "What is death? The loss of a body? The loss of the animating spark? If that's the case, I am dead. "Or is life the persistence of memory and emotion, volition and desire?" Crow went on, as if in a debate with himself. "If that's the case, I am very much alive.

He forgot everything: the sorcerer upstairs, the mission, his own imperfection, and the shame and bitterness that came with it.

Sebuah otobiografi tak berbeda dengan pembedahan mental. Sangat sakit. Melepas plester pembalut luka-luka dari ingatan seseorang dan membuka luka-luka itu, banyak diantaranya yang mulai sembuh terasa perih.

Nothing fixes a thing so intensely in the memory as the wish to forget it." —Michel de Montaigne, February 28,1533–September 13, 1592

He wasn't a romantic. Had never thought himself as sentimental. But he wanted this one last kiss. "Well", he said, his voice hoarse and grainy, "we'll always have Peru.

Naught is simple about the truth. There is the truth of what happened and the truth of what I believe happened and the truth of what I still remember to have happened. And that does not embrace the truths perceived and remembered by others, let alone whether any of us witnessed the fullness of the truth in the first place.

that our memories are forever evolving, so we only remember the version of the memory we last recalled rather than the original event.

Maybe that's what made a memory powerful. Not that it happened once, but that it happened over and over again on the screen of your mind.

I had good intentions once upon a time. Well, September.

This water is cool and clean as anything I have ever tasted; it tastes of my father leaving, of him never having been there, of having nothing after he was gone.

But do you know this idea of the imaginary homeland? Once you set out from shore on your little boat, once you embark, you'll never truly be at home again. What you've left behind exists only in your memory, and your ideal place becomes some strange imaginary concoction of all you've left behind at every stop.