Quotes About Memory

Women have a better sense of color and a better color memory. They're more likely to notice when something doesn't match; more likely to notice what you're wearing.

Prada Infusion d'Iris perfume - my mother wears it, so it feels like home away from home. It's lovely to smell her scent at all times.

When we revel in hindsight, we have a tendency to embellish. We weave romantic and poetic fibres into the gaps in our memory.

Just as we accumulate memories of facts by integrating them into a network, we accumulate life experiences by integrating them into a web of other chronological memories. The denser the web, the denser the experience of time.

Our dog died from licking our wedding picture.

When he came back from downtown, he had forgotten to bring his license, his identification, the $2 for the wedding license. So we got married two days later.

I was a bridesmaid at a wedding in one picture.

I couldn't tell you my wedding anniversary (although I seem to remember it was in June. Or maybe July. Definitely a month beginning with a 'J,' anyhow. But not January. Um. I think) and people I went to school with get extremely fed up with me when I bump into them in the street and have absolutely no recollection of their faces.

I did not get into a fistfight with my father at my sister's wedding. My sister didn't have a wedding.

For half a century, the Sunset Strip was the asphalt timeline of American popular music. My most distinct memory, from more years ago than I'll confess to, is waiting for a table at the Olde World, which occupied a wedge of territory at Sunset and Holloway Drive, where the daiquiris became more vicious the longer you sat in the sun.

When people refer to 'Back in the Day,' it was a Wednesday. Just a little fun fact for you.

Like the assassination of JFK, everybody alive then can remember where they were that Doomsday Week of the Cuban Missile Crisis in October 1962. That Saturday, 27 October, was, and remains, the closest the world has come to nuclear holocaust - the blackest day of a horrendous week.

One posthumous measure of a person's life is how often you imagine his impossible return to deal with some event he never lived to encounter. You picture his reactions, his advice, his sage commentary and humorous asides. For instance, I think about Mark Twain's hypothetical take on current events several times a week.

I read a book a week, man. And I don't have a great memory, but I have a good memory about what I read.

I have a strong memory of my early childhood. I can remember life before I was two. I remember being toilet-trained like it was last week - and it wasn't last week.

The things that you saw earlier in your life generally have more power than the things you saw last week.

I was making commercial films like 'Chocolate' and 'Hate Story.' Then came a time when I realised that such stories only entertain for a week, and then we forget about them.

Sometimes a week might go by when I don't think about that game, but I don't remember when it happened last.

Our lives are structured by our memories of events. Event X happened just before the big Paris vacation. I was doing Y in the first summer after I learned to drive. Z happened the weekend after I landed my first job. We remember events by positioning them in time relative to other events.

We will always miss Balasaheb, but I will work hard to ensure that his absence is not felt politically.

Nothing is so admirable in politics as a short memory.

'The Museum of Innocence' is not about politics; it's a love story, but I think it's political in the sense that it wants to capture how a man suppresses a woman.

My pop culture ended somewhere north of Elvis but not too far.

The perfect pop song is about creating a memory.