Quotes About Memory

The agony of being earthbound can be indescribable. I'm sure the memory still haunts.

he'd thought the past was dead. How long did it take for a past to die? She

All this time I have been telling myself that the skills I have to offer continue to be of value. Now I wonder if this is so. It may be that the day of the so-called "gunfighter" is on the wane. That soon it will be little more than the memory of a brief period in time when masters of the handgun ruled the frontier. A living dead man. That is what I have been for some time now.

Memory was such a worthless thing, really. Nothing it dealt with was attainable. It was concerned with phantom acts and feelings, with all that was uncapturable except in thought. It was without satisfaction. Mostly it hurt….

In this fleeting life, there is nothing stronger than a visual idea or moment stopped in time forever. And nothing does this better than a black-and-white photograph.

I am wishing of a memory, where you gave me everything you had and where I offered you the pieces that were left of me.

The trenches are all filled in, but the boys are still dying.' Then I could read her thoughts and I knew what this day meant. Mrs. Abernathy's son could have been my dad.

Nobody a writer ever loved is dead.

Are all my memories true? Every word, and growing truer with the years.

Someday you'll need to take down a worn-out volume and flip to that passage on the lower right-hand face, ten pages from the end, that fills you with such sweet and vicious pain.

Music forecasts the past, recalls the future. Now and then the difference falls away, and in one simple gift of circling sound, the ear solves the scrambled cryptogram. One abiding rhythm, present and always, and you're free.

Time didn't age you; memory did.

She saw how the mind makes forever, in order to store the things it had already lost.

She knows she'll never see him again in this or any life to come. Yet she sees him wherever she looks. That's life; the dead keep the living alive.

The oldest principle of composition: repeat everything.

And you, fallen Wendy, eviscerated by the eternal recurrence of it all, hear Peter snarl at you for growing guilty and big and old...

There is no safety. There is only forgetfulness.

Life has a way of talking to the future. It's called memory.

The trees have vanished and the town forgets. But not the land.

memory is always a collaboration in progress.

But memory will forever replay this day in black and white, the slow voice-over pan of Movietone

She lies awake at night, staring upward, remembering being right next to the only discovery that matters. Life was whispering instructions to her, and she failed to write them down.

Love was long over, but what was lost to him he still loved so harshly that it prevented him from listening even to its trace.

And yet, places remember what people forget.