Quotes About Memory

Sorrow is tranquility remembered in emotion.

I might repeat to myself, slowly and soothingly, a list of quotations beautiful from minds profound; if I can remember any of the damned things.

How do people go to sleep? I'm afraid I've lost the knack. I might try busting myself smartly over the temple with the night-light. I might repeat to myself, slowly and soothingly, a list of quotations beautiful from minds profound; if I can remember any of the damn things.

She had a good memory, too good, perhaps, since it held her imprisoned in the past.

The Holocaust, African slavery, the Spanish Inquisition, the rape of Nanking. These scenes are more than merely hot.

Nurturing. Janet remembers some of her childhood fantasies in which she was doing really terrible things to very small people, so she could cradle them like dolls afterwards.

Nostalgia: A device that removes the ruts and potholes from memory lane.

I kept a picture of me kissing my dad's corpse on the forehead in my wallet for years. I'd break it out any time someone showed me a baby picture, just so they would know how it ends.

The worst feeling isn't being lonely, it is being forgotten.

violent content in the film clips actually impaired participants' memories of the products

When the idea comes, I often can't remember where it came from. I remember very little about writing the first series of Hitchhiker's. It's almost as if someone else wrote it.

We kill, kill, kill. Flesh, spirit, whatever gets in our way. It's like our whole purpose is to extinguish life. And for those who live, there's memory, like a curse. We're such a mixture of frailty and cruelty.

We look away until we have no choice. Then we examine them, remember them, and look away again, as if we're not meant to think too much about them, but to live. Just live and forget.

After you're dead and buried and floating around whatever place we go to, what's going to be your best memory of earth? What one moment for you defines what it's like to be alive on this planet. What's your takeaway? Fake yuppie experiences that you had to spend money on, like white water rafting or elephant rides in Thailand don't count. I want to hear some small moment from your life that proves you're really alive.

I dropped my penny in the well of dreams, Into a deep, dark, distant, delayed splash. The world was everything that thinks and seems When I was twelve years old and dogging off Into a free mind, writing reams and reams— Invisible paper, invisible ink … from "Disenchantments

Would a coward or a thief remain a coward or a thief, even if his memory slate was wiped clean? Or could he somehow become courageous and noble? Could not knowing you had a history of cowardice allow you to suddenly become brave? Were bravery and altruism learned qualities or innate ones?

And just like with the cell phone, the replica is not only perfect, it even maintains the electron patterns of old texts, emails, and so on. Or, in the case of a man, the replica has every last neuronal pathway and memory intact. Along with whatever ineffable quality you call the spark of life.

talked to himself under his breath fairly frequently, and often couldn't remember where he had left stuff, as though his mind was too powerful to dwell on the mundane.

It is a poor sort of memory that only works backwards." —The White Queen, Alice in Wonderland

Doogie mouse, apparently after a very old television show.

Death is feared as birth is forgotten.

We try so hard to put our mark on things, we like to tell ourselves that what we do has import or will last. But the truth is, we're all just passing through. So little survives us. And when we're gone, it's simply the memory of others that keeps our time here alive. And when they're gone... That's why - when I go - I'm asking that my dust gets tossed on the water. Because ends up floating away.

I wanted to get it all down on paper; a record of what happened----just in case something did happen to me---- and to try and convince myself that I was not living in a state of permanent delusion. But why should you accept this story as given? It's just a story----my story. And like all stories, it isn't, in the pure sense of the word, true. It's just my version of the truth. Which means it is----and isn't----true at all.

Once you've crossed over into that realm of nothingness, your story only really stays in the minds of those closest to you. And when they too vanish...