Quotes About Memory

But with what wonder has the season come? Its treasure lies in earthen ships, that carry dreams across the foam. And how your memory of Sarah rapes the fleshly heart that once bore scenes, now veiled in smoky stains of tears; it cries as on its crutches leans, and ever fills itself with fears. Be born anew to taste the sky Lay waste cocoon and upwind fly.

Indian Alzheimer's" - where you forget everything but the grudges.

Sometimes it was like that, I suppose; some people become so important in your life that they're almost like a trademark, but then they're gone. Sometimes they might reappear, but they're nothing at all like what you've assembled in your mind since their departure; sometimes you can't even stand them anymore, because they break up the legend and nothing dies harder than a good, personal legend.

Kind of like the tree that falls in the forest when nobody's around? I mean, if nobody remembers the history, did it still happen?

If no one remembered them, were they ever really here?

The door closed, and he was gone into the twilight of early evening like an afterthought.

Hey youngster, I didn't catch your name." I paused for only a second, continuing to look down the valley at the small town. "I didn't throw it.

He laughed. "You must remember that we are also valuable not only in action but because we are more than the sum of our memories.

When an old man dies, a library burns to the ground." "Voltaire?" I shook my head. "An old African proverb.

It was like being trapped forever in the present tense of the first line of a first reader.

Her laugh. The way she smoked before she gave up. Smoke trickling up her nostrils. Spokes of smoke when she spoke.

In his autobiography Stravinsky relates that the first music he remembers was made by a peasant, working his hand in his armpit to produce a rhytmic farting.

Except heaven is a hope , and eden is a memory .

But his sister, Nannerl, in a short biography in 1800, defended Mozart's memory, saying "It is certainly easy to understand that a great genius, who is preoccupied with the abundance of his own ideas, and who soars from earth to heaven with amazing speed, is extremely reluctant to lower himself to noticing and dealing with mundane affairs.

If the portraitist Chuck Close cannot remember faces, the artist Stephen Wiltshire sees and remembers everything. Wiltshire has an eidetic, or photographic, memory. He can look at a cityscape or scene in London, New York, Rome, Dubai, or Tokyo just once, for twenty minutes or so, and later meticulously replicate what he has seen in every detail.

Love doesn't hurt, and won't fade away with the memory either. There's no right or wrong, no past, no future. Just beauty, noticed on the inside, thanks to the ones we care for the most. Encouragement, to dedicate yourself and protect. So join the dance, attach and then let go if you need to. Ain't no escape, it always finds a way to touch you deep inside, because love is part of who you are.

Our perceptions about life are like a messaging feed. The flow creates a meaningful lifeline you can relate to, not just recall. Every action is like a post. It becomes a memory for future reference, that you may choose to share with others if you wish to help them learn.

I still love you, Gustavo, but it's a habitual love, a wound in the knee that predicts rain.

Solitude, Celia realizes now, exists for us not to remember but to forget.

Sometimes I think I would rather just remember it in my head, all those streets and the places I loved. The way it smelled of car exhaust and sweet fruit. The thickness of the heat. The sound of dogs barking in alleyways. That's the Panama I want to hold on to. Because a place can do many things against you, and if it's your home or if it was your home at one time, you still love it. That's how it works.

I took his razor from the shower floor, bits of his black hair still caked between the blades. I took his toothbrush from the sink counter and sucked on the bristles, trying to find the taste of him, but there was only the flavor of watery mint toothpaste....I pulled the sheets off the bed with the idea that I could gather up the imprint of him and save it. I thought, I can unfurl the sheets on our old bed at home. I can lie in the creases formed by his body. I can sleep with him again.

But it was long before then that I realized that my mother was no longer there. That she had died with my father. I was a little girl being raised by spirits. In

The Academy Awards was an amazing night. I know I kind of lost my mind a little bit. I apologize for that. That night went so fast I can't remember what I said or what happened.

nerve cells within the olfactory bulb and hippocampus of a human brain are continuously regenerated. This means that when a whiff of something sparks a memory, be it a smoky campfire or a familiar perfume, the neurons that originally encoded those sensations may no longer be with you, and the memories may now be preserved by cells that never experienced them.