Quotes About Memory

Wie lange dauert es, bis man den Geruch desjenigen Vergißt, der einen geliebt hat? Und wann hört man selbst auf zu lieben?

Cik ilgam laikam j?paiet, l?dz aizmirstam t? cilv?ka smaržu, kurš m?s m?l?jis? Un kad paši p?rst?jam m?l?t?

Pour le moment, elle entendait encore le son de sa voix, mais... Jusqu'à quand?

In this nameless place nothing appears animate, nothing is close, nothing is real; I am pursued by the remembered scent of dust sprinkled with summer rain.

I had a friend, a lover. Or did I dream it? So many dreams are crowding upon me now that I can scarcely tell true from false: dreams like light imprisoned in bright mineral caves; hot, heavy dreams; ice-age dreams; dreams like machines in the head.

The men you meet can't do you any harm: ghosts from a life in which wind and sun existed—these good things they no longer remember. They creep or climb or stagger: that is their way of moving. They speak very little; they are no longer Neapolitans, or anything else.

His eyebrows twitched in time to the march. His eyes glittered. Was his son among the marchers? This was a march that roiled up the people, made their spines tingle and their eyes glow. What magic was this, composed in equal parts of ancient memory and total forgetting? From the way they acted you might think that the last war these people had fought was the happiest of undertakings and had brought them only joy and prosperity

I never forgot her, Father. I never forgot her for a day.

Sometimes, when we look back on a great day as a kid, I wonder was it really as perfect as that, or have I just made it that way in my head . . .

She stood looking down at the spot where she'd woken up shivering after sleeping outside on her first night in London. She recalled the chill, the loneliness, the feeling that she'd been on the run all her life. But nothing had been stronger than the hope that surged through her that drizzly morning.

my mum, who was my heart, who didn't live to see this, but who will be forever on my shoulder, inspiring me.

Only do not forget, If I wake up crying it's because in my dreams I'm a lost child hunting through the leaves of the night for your hands. Pablo Neruda, 100 Love Sonnets, XXI

Her eyes rested on the picture of Emir that Matt had taken at her flat

It's always about timing. If it's too soon, no one understands. If it's too late, everyone's forgotten.

We take so much into us when we lose someone we love," he said. "We must hold what is left of them. We make choices they would have made, feel what they would have felt. This is the piece of ourselves we lose, you see, because we must make room for them. Death is a parasite, of sorts.

Sandalwood - She recognized sandalwood. That was their mother's jewelry box, that smell. They used to take turns pushing their face into it and breathing deep. Cinnamon, and something else: floral, but not sweet. Darkly intoxicating, what black roses would smell like.

Remember me but forget my fate.

How many times had Paladin looked into this human face, its features animated by neurological impulse alone? He did not know. Even if he were to sort through his video memories and count them up one by one, he still didn't think he would have the right answer. But after today's mission, human faces would always look different to him. They would remind him of what it felt like to suffer, and to be relieved of suffering.

I remember abortion being legal in the United States

With Beijing Memory No. 5, what is uncanny is that the "machine" refuses to come to life, and in its lifelessness, imagines what life might have been. And it is in this very paradox of "might have been" that we experience the prospective and prosthetic quality of our ontology.

Remembrance of Things Past, Marcel Proust

To this day, when men meet me, there's always that movie in the back of their mind.

It felt like forever, and since I hadn't gone back inside the house to get my wristwatch before we headed out, time was measured by how it felt.

Meg nodded. She didn't understand the feeling, but she turned the words into a kind of image that she could recall later. "Anyway