Quotes About Memory

I am not gone but merely walk within you.

Culture is sustained in our synapses...It's more than what can be reduced to binary code and uploaded onto the Net. To remain vital, culture must be renewed in the minds of the members of every generation. Outsource memory, and culture withers.

We don't constrain our mental powers when we store new long-term memories. We strengthen them. With each expansion of our memory comes an enlargement of our intelligence. The Web provides a convenient and compelling supplement to personal memory - but when we start using the Web as a substitute for personal memory, by bypassing the inner processes of consolidation, we risk emptying our minds of their riches.

cuando se ha cumplido el ritual de lanzar tres puñados de tierra sobre la tumba de los difuntos éstos no regresan

Think of me as you pass by, As you are now, so once was I. As I am now, some day you'll be, So now prepare to follow me. Someone,

High in the Dales one can find: Think of me as you pass by, As you are now, so once was I. As I am now, some day you'll be, So now prepare to follow me. Someone, perhaps a night-duty policeman, had added the following: To follow you I'm not content, I do not know which way you went.

It wasn't that long, and it certainly wasn't the kind of kiss you see in movies these days, but it was wonderful in its own way, and all I can remember about the moment is that when our lips touched, I knew the memory would last forever.

Anyway, she sings like a mad tropical bird, and it's just a fondue of molten wanting and grieving and the sadness of the large naked swinging breasts and soft olive skin and everything that you wish you could remember and feel and know.

that the human brain expects permanence. The cup is where you put it. The car is where you parked it (if it hasn't been towed away). The wine is still in the refrigerator where you left it. It's only people, the most complex, important, influential, life-changing elements of our lives, who are there and then are shockingly not-there. And it's surprisingly hard to get one's brain around that. So

client once said that it was like a bottle full of pain, if you can imagine that. And each time you let yourself remember, each time you let yourself feel the pain, each time you cry, you empty the bottle a little bit. So it becomes easier to carry.

that those who are no longer with us remain with us specifically through our memories of them. That memories are perhaps more than just recordings, that they are the actual essence of the people we have known, the places we have been, lingering on long after the event, like time travellers, like ghosts.

I can see why people don't want to talk about it. But the problem if you don't is that people forget, and if people forget then the whole thing can happen again.

Sensual images of you are forever tangoing through my brain--maybe I can begin solidify them. At least they would be mine! - Matthew Sedon

There was something it was searching for - some kind of memory of a previous life - a scent, an image. Was it the purple-headed man, or something else?

whatever happened to the nice old guy with the purple bandana?

Who knows their own story? Certainly it makes no sense when we are living in the midst of it. It's all just clamor and confusion. It only becomes a story when we tell it and retell it. Our small precious recollections that we speak again and again to ourselves and to others, first creating the narrative of our lives and then keeping the story from dissolving into darkness.

Memory is imagined; it is not real. Don't be ashamed of its need to create; it is the loveliest part of your heart. Myth is the true history. Don't let them tell you that there are no monsters. Don't let them make you feel stupid, just because you are happy to play down in the dark with your flashlight. The mystical world depends on you and your tolerance for the absurd. Be strong, my darling ones, and believe!

My biggest fear is losing memory because memory is what we are.

I am the thief of her last moments.

I'm very good at the past. It's the present I can't understand.

I believe, do you know, we never stop being what we were, young. We don't shed the young self, we just put on other skins, one cover after another, but somewhere in us is still the self we were before we fell, before we started covering ourselves. And all the rest of our lives, we're trying to go back, we're looking for it, what we lost.

Looking back on my childhood now, there's a sort of glow to my reminiscences. It's like my memory has blocked out most of the bad stuff.

I went to watch my father at Silverstone in the early 1950s, and I've still got the car he was in.

One still unused experiment from this time was an exploration of backward vocals. A phrase written out backwards letter for letter and then read out will not sound correct when reversed, but a spoken phrase recorded and played backwards can be learnt and recited. This gives a very odd effect when it is in turn played backwards. 'Neeagadelouff' was one I remember: it should come out as 'fooled again'.