Quotes About Memory

her sister, as well as she could remember them, all these strange Adventures of hers that you have just been reading about; and when she had finished, her sister kissed her, and said, 'It was a curious dream, dear, certainly: but now run in to your tea; it's getting late.' So Alice got up and ran off, thinking while she ran, as well she might, what

there were lovely things in the world, lovely that didn't endure, and the lovelier for that... Nothing endures.

With them we may say there died a thing older than themselves, these were the Last of the Peasants, the last of the Old Scots folk. A new generation comes up that will know them not, except as a memory in a song...

It is not a simple life to be a single cell, although I have no right to say so, having been a single cell so long ago myself that I have no memory at all of that stage in my life.

Every city is a ghost. New buildings rise upon the bones of the old so that each shiny steel bean, each tower of brick carries within it the memories of what has gone before, an architectural haunting. Sometimes you can catch a glimpse of these former incarnations in the awkward angle of a street or filigreed gate, an old oak door peeking out from a new facade, the plaque commemorating the spot that was once a battleground, which became a saloon and is now a park.

We've left the moment. It's gone. We're somewhere else now, and that's okay. We've still got that moment with us somewhere, deep in our memory, seeping into our DNA. And when our cells get scattered , whenever that happens, this moment will still exist in them. Those cells might be the building block of something new. A planet or star or a sunflower, a baby. Maybe even a cockroach. Who knows? Whatever it is, it'll be a part of us, this thing right here and now, and we'll be a part of it.

We don't look at each other anymore. Not really. Not since I pulled him from that opium den. Now when I look at him, I see the addict. And when he looks at me, he sees what he would rather not remember. I wish I could be his adored little girl again, sitting at his side.

Mabel did deserve to Rest In Peace, and Evie knew she was a terrible person, because of there was any ghost she longed to see, even for just a moment, it was Mabel's.

Every city is a ghost. New buildings rise upon the bones of the old so that each shiny steel beam, each tower of brick carries within it the memories of what has gone before, an architectural haunting.

I saw things in that war that a man shouldn't ever have see. Things that make you forget we're human and not just a bunch of beasts crawling out of the sludge somewhere. And the damnedest part of it all is, I couldn't for the life of me remember what we were fighting for in the first place.

what we do not study and reflect upon, we are in danger of dismissing or forgetting. What we forget, we are often doomed to repeat. Our ghosts, it seems, are always with us, whispering that attention must be paid.

The land remembers everything, though. It knows the steps of this nation's ballet of violence and forgetting. The land receives our dead, and the dead sing softly the song of us: blood.

temperature in the storehouse seemed to have risen a notch. I guessed it was my anxiety. The air was faintly smoky, as if somebody was smoking a cigarette. Takeo smoked. I remembered his long-ago offer of a cigarette. I'd declined and bhe had never smoked in my presence after that. Was he inside and smoking as he leisurely made his way toward me? No, he wasn't the one. I knew that the danger was Eriko Iwata. I heard

People change and forget to tell each other.

Forsan et haec olim meminisse iuvabit.

Perhaps some day it will be pleasant to remember even this.' " Mykolos

Kate." "Thank you for saying that." He grimaces. "I don't know if this makes sense, but there are times when I can't remember their faces or the sound of their voices. That scares me because there

You know, I have to tell you--I tried to make my voice bright to lighten the moo--this ring of yours has got to be the ugliest thing I have ever seen. I'm insulted. He held his hand up to the moonlight and straightened the monstrosity on his finger. My dad gave this to me when we moved to Michigan.'To remember the old life' he said. I've never taken it off. I look at it and see California. Remind me never to visit California.

this single memory, coupled with the others of Mother masturbating on me early in the mornings, or in front of me when I was small, was ample.

To speak candidly, with neither justification nor humiliation, relieves the haunting of memory and mind and becomes one way to regain our dignity and our strength.

How much am I willing to endure in order to remember? Do I truly want to be empowered by memory or language?

Some people see scars, and it is wounding they remember. To me they are proof of the fact that there is healing.

even if the older mind lives by remembering, the young mind lives by forgetting.

A small village lay just over the farthest hill. When he had to feed, he went there. And when he left after feeding, the people he'd met, even those he'd fed upon, immediately forgot he'd been there at all. Every time he entered the village, the residents greeted him as a new visitor. That was his power, his curse, his salvation; no one remembered him.