Quotes About Memory

he was in a museum of immaculate dust - and nothing was exactly gone

There's this saying, 'May their memory be a blessing,' and she says that's what she hopes to be. A

But I think it's useful to note that at any particular point in our lives our minds are full not just of our own memories but of the experiences of characters from the books we've been reading. That's if we are lucky to have the education and leisure to read at all. And the curiosity

I carried recipes in my head like maps.

Nothing dreamed is ever lost, and nothing lost forever.

Old habits never die. And when you've once been in the business of granting wishes, the impulse never quite leaves you

He drank, for the same reason he wrote second-rate science fiction. Not to forget but to remember, to open the past and find himself there again. He opened each bottle, began each story with the secret conviction that here was the magic drought that would restore him. But magic, like wine, needs the right conditions in order to work.

There was a quote he could not quite remember, something about the past being an island surrounded by time. He had missed the last boat to the island.

Porque um contador de histórias não morre nunca, mantém-se sempre vivo nas suas histórias enquanto houver álguem para as ouvir.

Ho sognato di essere vecchio. E tu, tu mi eri accanto. Per sempre giovane, in mano una tazza di stelle.

Pensate all'immagine che da una lastra fotografica si trasferisce sulla carta, diventando sempre più scura, da bianca all'oro più pallido, da ambra a seppia. Immaginate la luna mentre gira lentamente il profilo sottile fino a diventare piena, trascinando con sè le maree. Immaginate la crisalide quando schiude la bara dura della larva e mostra le ali al sole. L'insetto perfetto piange il bruco che un tempo è stato? E se ne ricorda?

The past is an obdurate stranger that puts as many marks on us as we attempt to impose on it.

For a teller of tales will never die, but will live on in stories - for as long as there are folk to listen.

I know you don't remember her much, Narcisse, but your mother was very strong. Stronger than anyone I've known; strong and sweet as peach liqueur .

The smell of thyme was pungent in the air. It grew wild by the roadside. Thyme improves the memory, Joe used to say. He used to make a syrup out of it, keeping it in a bottle in the pantry. Two tablespoonsful every morning before breakfast. That clear greenish liquid smelled exactly like the night air over Lansquenet, crisp and earthy and nostalgic, like a summer day's weeding in the herb garden, and the radio on...

They will cease to exercise memory because they rely on that which is written, calling things to remembrance no longer from within themselves, but by means of external marks.

A photo says, you were happy, and I wanted to catch that. A photo says, you were so important to me that I put down everything else to come watch.

Something still exists as long as there's someone around to remember it.

I always hated when my scars started to fade, because as long as I could still see them, I knew why I was hurting.

See, as much as you want to hold on to the bitter sore memory that someone has left this world, you are still in it

Happiness is what you choose to remember.

If you didn't remember something happening, was it because it never had happened? Or because you wished it hadn't?

See, as much as you want to hold on to the bitter sore memory that someone has left this world, you are still in it. And the very act of living is a tide: at first it seems to make no difference at all, and then one day you look down and see how much pain has eroded.

Do you know how there are moments when the world moves so slowly you can feel your bones shifting, your mind tumbling? When you think that no matter what happens to you for the rest of your life, you will remember every last detail of that one minute forever?