Quotes About Memory

The sergeant's account of his past was ancient in its form and confusingly dramatic, as perhaps would have been a game of three-level chess between Richard Burbage and Sacha Guitry.

Who killed Jocie, Ben?"—and Marco could not answer him. "Ben, did I—did I kill Jocie? That could be, couldn't it? Maybe it was an accident, but they wanted me to kill Senator Jordan and—did I kill my Jocie?

Arguments about the origins of bluegrass are particularly intense because—as "traditional" as bluegrass is in comparison to the rest of American popular music—it has a starting point within living memory (unlike opera or symphonic music), and its origins can arguably be credited to one man

Now I am dead and laid in my grave And that my bones are rotten, By this shall I remembered be, Or else I am forgotten.

She did the best that we could be; she was perfectly charming and perfectly loving. She was a dream. And she was the kind of dream that you remember when you wake up smiling.

There is a strong link between synesthesia and photographic memory (technically called eidetic memory) or at least heightened memory (hypermnesis). Many synesthetes used their synesthesia as a mnemonic aid.

When asked what good the trait does, synesthetes immediately answer, "It helps you remember." They do have measurably high memories

In trying to escape the fatality of memory, he discovered with an immense sadness that pursuing the past inevitably only leads to greater loss.

We remember nothing. Maybe for a year or two. Maybe most of a life, if we live. Maybe. But then we will die, and who will ever understand any of this? And maybe we remember nothing most of all when we put our hands on our hearts and carry on about not forgetting.

What was our life like? I almost don't remember now. Though I remember it , the space of time it occupied. And I remember it fondly.

suppose there was some medical procedure that will provide some modest health benefit but is extremely painful. However, the procedure is administered with a drug that does not prevent the pain but instead erases all memory of the event. Would you be willing to undertake this procedure?

There is a goddess of Memory, Mnemosyne; but none of Forgetting. Yet there should be, as they are twin sisters, twin powers, and walk on either side of us, disputing for sovereignty over us and who we are, all the way until death.

Fate causes the old soul to forget all the many regions it has traveled over time, and all the punishments it has endured along the way. This forgetfulness becomes the body that surrounds the soul. It pretends to be the soul, but it is a false spirit.

Our cheer goes back to them, the valiant dead! Laurels and roses on their graves to-day, Lilies and laurels over them we lay, And violets o'er each unforgotten head.

What long-dead face makes here the grass so green? On what earth-buried bosom do we lean? Ah! love, when we in turn are grass and flowers, By what kind eyes to come shall we be seen?

It is strange that the mind will forget so much, and yet hold a picture of flowers that have been dead for thirty years or more...

T]here is no fence or hedge round Time that has gone. You can go back and have what you like if you remember it well enough.

This watch my father gave me when I entered the Ministry. I would like to give you more. Take it, Huw. It has marked time that I loved." Warm from his pocket in my hand, the smoothness of gold and glass. "No need for us to shake hands," he said, and his voice riding winds and seas, and his back black in front of me. "We will live in the minds of each other, Huw, my little one. Good-bye, with love.

She has passed information to you. Figures names and facts. You have learnt nothing very much. But you have a splendid memory. It will help you when you start to learn.

indeed I often dream of it, and I can still feel how I felt, as though I was still small, and all those people were still alive. It is very strange to think back like this, although come to think of it, there is no fence or hedge round Time that has gone. You can go back and have what you like if you remember it well enough.

I wonder is happiness only an essence of good living, that you shall taste only once or twice while you live, and then go on living with the taste in your mouth, and wishing you had the fullness of it solid between your teeth, like a good meal that you have tasted and cherished, and look back in your mind to eat again.

But even of him I can think of with sorrow, now at this moment. Those times, those people...have gone. How can there be fury felt for things that are gone to dust.

So all I could have of Cienwen was in my mind, and I kept her there as men keep libraries of rare books, seldom to be touched but happy to know you have got.

Not only did I rediscover every experience of my life, I had to live each unfulfilled desire as well—as though they'd been fulfilled. I saw that what transpires in the mind is just as real as any flesh and blood occurrence. What had only been imagination in life, now became tangible, each fantasy a full reality. I lived them all—while, at the same time, standing to the side, a witness to their, often, intimate squalor. A witness cursed with total objectivity.