Quotes About Memory

I've forgotten the words with which to tell you. I knew them once, but I've forgotten them, and now I'm talking to you without them.

The words emerge from her body without her realizing it, as if she were being visited by the memory of a language long forsaken.

She says people ought to learn to live like them, with the body abandoned in a wilderness, and in the mind the memory of a single kiss, a single word, a single look to stand for a whole love.

When the past is recaptured by the imagination, breath is put back into life.

For all dead loves and all remembered things. I have travelled through many seas.

The memory of most men is an abandoned cemetery where lie, unsung and unhonored, the dead whom they have ceased to cherish. Any lasting grief is reproof to their neglect.

Nailed to the beloved body like a slave to a cross, I have learned some secrets of life which are now dimmed in my memory by the operation of the same law which ordains that the convalescent, once cured, ceases to understand the mysterious truths laid bare by illness, and that the prisoner, set free, forgets his torture, or the conqueror, his triumph passed, forgets his glory.

Happiness makes the heartless man, someone told me when I was a child. We arrived home happy and heartless.

For better or worse, it is the "three wrong" that sticks in one's memory after the math test is returned, not the "seventeen right." I wonder what happens when a child hears a recitation of his failures day after day, year after year? Do you have a strong negative internal voice that is critical of yourself and others? Where did that voice come from? It is the result of our own upbringings that tracked our failures rather than our successes.

When she was old and forgetful, who would search for her if she wandered off? Who would find her and tuck her into the front seat of their car and drive her home? Where would home be, and with whom? The future was a great unknown for everyone, but maybe even a little more so when you had no significant other, no children, no living relatives.

Nimiedades que servían para recordarle que antaño había existido el mundo exterior y que el presente era mucho más que el ayer y sus papeles amarillentos, su tinta parda y esos mapas que se desintegraban al desplegarlos.

We don't like flowers that donot wilt; they must die, and nineshe-camel hairs aid memory.

It has memory's ear that can hear without having to hear. Like the gyroscope's fall, truly unequivocal because trued by regnant certainty, it is a power of strong enchantment. It is like the dove- neck animated by sun; it is memory's eye; it's conscientious inconsistency.

We forget what we say much more than what we hear, what we write much more than what we read, what we send much more than what we receive, and that is why we barely count the insults we hand out to others, unlike those dealt out to us, which is why almost everyone harbors some grudge against someone.

There is nothing new except what has been forgotten.

The dragon within my heart stirred, shifting her wings, as if remembering they could be used to fly.

le parole hanno una vita propria, come la gente o gli animali. Possono palpitare, svanire o amplificarsi. Passare attraverso le parole è come camminare attraverso la folla. Rimangono delle facce, delle sagome che si dileguano presto dal nostro ricordo, oppure si fissano, non si sa bene perché.

I am living. I remember you.

Without devotion any life becomes a stranger's story...told for the body to forget what it once loved.

What happened in our house taught my brothers how to leave, how to walk down a sidewalk without looking back.

The current of memory carried her along, futher, futher. This time, she didn't resist.

A smile takes but a moment, but the memory of it lasts forever.

If you observe a content which then disappears for a short time into the unconscious, it is not altered when it comes up again, but if you forget something for a long time, it does not return in the same form; it autonomously evolves or regresses in the other sphere, and therefore one can speak of unconscious as being a sphere, or entity in itself.

We must refocus our collective memory. The necessity for this has never been greater as we discover that the path of 'progress' is extinguishing the very conditions for life on earth.