Quotes About Memory

Women remember. Our bodies remember. Every part of us remembers that has ever happened. Every touch, every feel, everything is there in our skin, ready to be awakened, revived.

It's very important to write things down instantly, or you can lose the way you were thinking out a line. I have a rule that if I wake up at 3 in the morning and think of something, I write it down. I can't wait until morning - it'll be gone.

That was the problem with memory, the process of focusing on one thing necessarily required the exclusion of something else and sometimes the something else was the most important part.

Maybe Cubism started this way. Memory re-arranging a face.

Time, on its own, heals nothing. ? Mary Rakow, The Memory Room . (Counterpoint, August 31, 2004) Originally published April 1st 2002.

His mouth felt cold to mine ; he neither opened his eyes, nor spoke, nor moved. I said in my heart, "Too late I am here within your cloak, I who never of my own will would have denied you anything. Time and death and change are unforgiving, and love lost in the time of youth never returns again.

I said, 'We have dreamed, dear friend. Another time, we might awaken. Let it be a dream forgotten at morning.' That seemed a better way of saying it than, 'Never remind me of this, for fear I should stick a knife in you.

Always, in the Bull Court, our most precious trophies were the gifts of the dead.

Often in those two months I said to myself, If I live, I will wipe this time from my mind; I cannot even bear the memory. Yet now I turn to it. He is gone; and all times when he was there seem like lost riches.

But sometimes his face would change, as if sorrow touched his shoulder, saying, "Had you forgotten me?

Her eyes filled. "He forgot my birthday, two weeks ago," she said. "It was the first one he had ever forgotten, in nineteen of them." Nineteen! Nineteen from thirty-five leaves sixteen!

I have become an orchid washed in on the salt white beach. Memory, what can I make of it now that might please you- this life, already wasted and still strewn with miracles?

I have always believed that I became a writer because in the fifth grade I had a pencil fight with a classmate and a piece of graphite has been lodged in my palm ever since.

Time is a great restorer, and changes surely the greatest sorrow into a pleasing memory.

6. REGULARITY: Figuring out when they will sleep or eat is a daily puzzle for parents of spirited children who are irregular. It seems impossible to get them onto any kind of schedule. An eight-hour night of undisturbed sleep is a mere memory lingering in your mind from the days before their birth.

When I am dead and opened, you shall find "Calais" lying in my heart.

Madness strips you of memory and leaves you scrabbling around on the floor of your brain for the snatches and snippets of what happened, what was said, and when.

You begin to forget what it means to live. You forget things. You forget that you used to feel all right. You forget what it means to feel all right because you feel like shit all of the time, and you can´t remember what it was like before.

My most salient memories

I do not remember very many things from the inside out. I do not remember what it felt like to touch things, or how bathwater traveled over my skin. I did not like to be touched, but it was a strange dislike. I did not like to be touched because I craved it too much. I wanted to be held very tight so I would not break. Even now, when people lean down to touch me, or hug me, or put a hand on my shoulder, I hold my breath. I turn my face. I want to cry.

There is neither the time nor the impetus for the nurturing of a quiet eye, much less the memory of its harvests. Behind our screens, at work and at home, we have sutured the temporal segments of our days so as to switch our attention from one task or one source of stimulation to another. We cannot but be changed. And we are—

I worry that we are even closer to the stripping away of complex thoughts when they do not fit the memory-enfeebling restriction on the number of characters used to convey them.

Who is each one of us, if not a combinatoria37 of experiences, information, books we have read.

If attention in the young child, which is spasmodic and exploratory by nature, becomes all the more attenuated because of constant input, those of us who are researchers have to figure out the downstream effects on memory and other aspects of cognitive development.