Quotes About Memory

In life we all have an unspeakable secret, an irreversible regret, an unreachable dream and an unforgettable love.

Everyone leaves a legacy, whether they want to or not. The question is, "What kind of legacy will you leave?

Steve's memory lives on in the zoo he created and the wildlife he protected. No one will ever forget his passion, his dedication, and his message. Wild animals are gorgeous, he said. Respect them. It's their planet, too.

Forgotten? No, we never do forget: We let the years go; wash them clean with tears, Leave them to bleach out in the open day, Or lock them careful by, like dead friends' clothes, Till we shall dare unfold them without pain,— But we forget not, never can forget.

The imagined memories had to have as much weight as the real, or we had to at least pretend they did to such a degree that they just very well might have. And so I never questioned Angela about that particular story, or about all the troubling things that it pointed to, content to believe that at least in this version things worked for her better than they did in the one I never heard.

We persist and linger longer than we think, leaving traces of ourselves wherever we go. If you take that away, then we all simply vanish.

Ma tu - adesso ci penso - sei troppo lontana, centinaia e centinaia di chilometri difficili a valicare. Tu sei dentro a una vita che ignoro, e gli altri uomini ti sono accanto, a cui probabilmente sorridi, come a me nei tempi passati. Ed è bastato poco tempo perché ti dimenticassi di me. Probabilmente non riesci più a ricordare il mio nome. Io sono ormai uscito da te, confuso fra le innumerevoli ombre. Eppure non so pensare che a te, e mi piace dirti queste cose.

bir daha geri gelmemek üzere yitip gitmiÅŸ bir mutluluÄŸu olduÄŸu gibi koruyabileceÄŸine, zaman ak???n? durdurabileceÄŸine, her ÅŸeyin eskisi gibi olabileceÄŸine inan?yordu.

In questo caso il ricordo di lui mi ritornava, allora mi fermavo e nel silenzio della notte a voce alta chiedevo: Dormi? Ma lui non rispondeva. Effettivamente dormiva, però lontano, sotto le crode, in un cimitero di montagna, e con gli anni nessuno si ricordava più di lui, nessuno gli portava fiori.

Ho detto il Natale più bello che ricordo. Perché bello non significa soltanto bello ma può significare anche terribile e profondo. Anzi. Le più grandi bellezze, in questo mondo, forse stanno proprio qui. Nel dolore, nel rimpianto di ciò che è stato e non sarà più, nella nostra solitudine, della quale noi in genere non ci accorgiamo, o preferiamo non pensarci. Ma verrà il giorno.

In his imagination he performed the 'composition of place' reconstructing the scene from what he could remember of the classics, so laboriously and unprofitably rammed into his head at Harrow.

Nothing happened here. Nothing extraordinary for its time. Two nuns held slaves like any priest or explorer or settler in the New World. It is the others, the ones they held, who keep the memory, who imagine over and over again where they might be. It is they who keep these details alive and raw like yesterday. They twist and turn in all imaginations to come, in plain sight or in disguise. This fragile place and its muscular dreams. Nothing really happened here

Those long remembered can alone claim to be long forgotten.

everything we do is decent when the mind begins to forget — the design of life; and good when we are forgotten — the design of death.

So the reason for our cleanliness becomes apparent; cleanliness is a form of apprehension; our faulty racial memory is fathered by fear. Destiny and history are untidy; we fear memory of that disorder.

But death is intimacy walking backward. We are crazed with grief when she, who once permitted us, leaves to us the only recollection.

In the resurrection, when we come up looking backward at each other, I shall know you only of all that company.

Once in the war I saw a dead horse that had been lying long against the ground. Time and the birds and its own last concentration had removed the body a great way from the head. As I looked upon the head, my memory weighed for the lost body; and because of that missing quantity even heavier hung that head along the ground. So love, when it has gone, taking time with it, leaves a memory of its weight.

It is only by such extreme measures that the average man can remember something long ago; truly, not that he remembers, but that crime itself is the door to an accumulation, a way to lay hands on the shudder of a past that is still vibrating.

Selles voodis oleksime unustanud oma elu, oleksime jõudnud mäletamise äärmise piirini; me kehad oleksid ühte sulanud, justnagu kujud vahakujude muuseumis on sulatatud ühte nende ajalooga, nii oleksime meie lagunenud armastuseks.

So love, when it has gone, taking time with it, leaves a memory of its weight

I remember young Austrian boys going to school, flocks of quail they were, sitting out their recess in different spots in the sun, rosy-cheeked, bright-eyed, with damp rosy mouths, smelling of the herd childhood, facts of history glimmering in their minds like sunlight, soon to be lost, soon to be forgotten, degraded into proof. Youth is cause, effect is age; so with the thickening of the neck we get data.

I have been loved,' she said, 'by something strange, and it has forgotten me.

I have been loved," she said, "by something strange, and it has forgotten me.