Quotes About Memory

I was impressed by the delicate weaving of the numbers. No matter how carefully you unraveled a thread, a single moment of inattention could leave you stranded, with no clue what to do next. In all his years of study, the Professor had managed to glimpse several pieces of the lace. I could only hope that some part of him remembered the exquisite pattern.

you read a novel to the end, then it's over. I would never want to do something as wasteful as that. I'd much rather keep it here with me, safe and sound, forever.

The waves of regret were gentle, but I knew they would ripple on forever.

The traces of my father's presence, which I had done my best to preserve, had vanished, replaced by an emptiness that would not be filled. I stood in the middle of that emptiness, feeling myself on the verge of being drawn into its terrible depth.

I thought I could hear the sound of my memory burning that night.

Memories don't just pile up—they also change over time. And sometimes they fade of their own accord. Though the process, for me, is quite different from what happens to the rest of you when something disappears from the island.

I needed to pretend to be myself at a younger, more innocent age, when we had stood marveling at the snow in the hall. I was sure that Jun would dive into only pure water, and I wanted his dive into me to be perfect; I wanted him to enter with no splash at all.

All these things we had long since forgotten she gathered up one by one in her hands, caressing and warming them until they came back to life. It was as if she had come in place of the goddess of the rainbow to offer her grace and affection. She was perhaps the only one who ever truly loved the Hotel Iris.

I suppose memories live here and there in the body. But they're invisible, aren't they? And no matter how wonderful the memory, it vanishes is you leave it alone. If no one pays attention to it. They leave no trace, no evidence that they ever existed.

I suppose memories live here and there in the body. But they're invisible, aren't they? And no matter how wonderful the memory, it vanishes if you leave it alone. If no one pays attention to it. They leave no trace, no evidence that they ever existed.

Memories don't just pile up - they also change over time. And sometimes they fade of their own accord.

And even if a memory disappears completely, the heart retains something. A slight tremor or pain, some bit of joy, a tear.

The white clippings of hair fell in clumps on the cape and then scattered to the floor.

You see, my brother-in-law can never remember you, but he can never forget me

And it helped that he forgot what he'd taught me before, so I was free to repeat the same question until I

The rays of the setting sun stretched far into the room. Root traced the circles around the twin primes as the steam from the rice cooker floated in from the kitchen. The Professor stared through the window as if he were looking out at the desert, though all he could really see was his tiny, neglected garden.

My memories don't feel as though they've been pulled up by the root. Even if they fade, something remains. Like tiny seeds that might germinate again if the rain falls. And even if a memory disappears completely, the heart retains something. A slight tremor or pain

It became more difficult to breathe. I looked around. My body was now included among the objects arranged on the floor. I lay there between the music box and the harmonica, my two legs protruding at odd angles, my hands crossed on my chest, my eyes lowered. In the same way he had wound the spring on the music box or blown into the harmonica, I imagined R would now caress my body in order to call forth memories.

Auf jeden Fall sind Erinnerungen unsichtbar, nicht wahr? Wie wundervoll sie auch sein mögen, sie verschwinden einfach, wenn niemand sie beachtet. Nicht einmal wir selbst sind in der Lage, das wahre Wesen einer Erinnerung zu erfassen. Sie hinterlassen keine Spuren. Es gibt keinen greifbaren Beweis, dass sie wirklich existiert haben.

I'd imagine you'd be uncomfortable, with your heart full of so many forgotten things." "No, that's not really a problem. A heart has no shape, no limits. That's why you can put almost any kind of thing in it, why it can hold so much. It's much like your memory, in that sense.

And no matter how wonderful the memory, it vanishes if you leave it alone, if no one pays attention to it. They leave no trace, no evidence that they ever existed.

När jag blundade lyckades jag få en starkare medvetenhet om tomrummet som uppstått i min kropp. Det var fyllt av fullständigt genomskinligt vatten och inte det minsta lilla minnesfragment fanns kvar där. Hans händer rörde idogt om i det vattnet, men det enda som kom upp var små bubblor. Bubblor som genast sprack alldeles ljudlöst.

If you read a novel to the end, then it's over. I would never want to do something as wasteful as that. I'd much rather keep it here with me, safe and sound, forever.

In years past, I had carefully studied the stems, leaves, and branches and had read the tags that identified the different varieties, but I realized now that I was already unable to remember what this thing called a rose had looked like.