Quotes About Memory

Learning does not make one learned: there are those who have knowledge and those who have understanding. The first requires memory, the second philosophy.

Did you not hear what I said, sir? I told you there was fire in my sentence. And though it is only after death that my body is to be burnt, it will always be a terrible disgrace on my memory. I am saved the pain of being burnt alive, and thus, perhaps, saved from a death of despair, but the shamefulness is the same, and it is that I think of.

Femeia aceasta este într-adev?r frumoas?, dar frumoas? ca o moart?, frumoas? ca o umbr?, frumoas? ca vedeniile ce È›i se arat? în vis; tocmai de aceea mi se pare c-am v?zut-o în vis... È™i am avut vreo dou?-trei visuri însp?imânt?toare în viaÈ›a mea, de care când îmi amintesc îmi înghea?? sângele în vine

If I have been your friend, Morcerf, your present manner of speaking would almost lead me to forget that I ever bore that title.

It has been truly said, that a woman who has truly loved is always young, and that the bloom of the girl of twenty years ever lies concealed in some secret cloister of the heart. 1

Athos, c'est votre femme, vous dis-je, répétait d'Artagnan, ne vous rappelez-vous donc pas comme les deux signalements se ressemblent ? - J'aurais cependant cru que l'autre était morte, je l'avais si bien pendu.

A înv??a nu înseamn? a È™ti. Exist? È™tiutori È™i exist? savanÈ›i: pe unii îi face memoria, pe alÈ›ii filozofia.

Les gens que nous avons aimé ne seront plus jamais où ils étaient, mais ils sont partout où nous sommes.

D'abord, madame, Paris est Paris, c'est-à-dire une espèce de tourbillon où l'on perd la mémoire de toutes choses, au milieu du bruit que fait le monde en courant et la terre en tournant.

I can't forget what it's done to you. I've been thinking of nothing else since it happened. It's gone forever, that funny young, lost look I loved won't ever come back. I killed that when I told you about Rebecca. It's gone. In a few hours, you've grown so much older.

Forgetting it is important. We do it on purpose. It means we get a bit of a rest. Are you listening? We have to forget. Or we'd never sleep ever again.

But, of course, memory and responsibility are strangers. They're foreign to each other. Memory always goes its own way quite regardless.

Crying wasn't like riding a bike. Give it up, and you quickly forget how it's done.

Some things you cannot wish away or think away. They become part of you when you remember them.

Still, I couldn't help but wonder if it was a mistake for people like us to be tied to a place. If we weren't meant to be ready and willing to wander. If everything we needed was contained in who we were. And what we remember.

Some stories stayed with you even when you wanted to forget them.

If you are loved, you never lose the person who loved you. You carry them with you all your life.

We had to survive to remember. Otherwise everything we were would disappear. Those people we loved would fade as though we'd never loved them, as if they'd never walked and talked and burned, forgetting them was the real evil. That was the hole of darkness.

Every time someone forgets, someone else disappears,' my brother wrote.

Remember what I've told you. Remember me.

Our house was littered with books- in the kitchen, under the beds, stuck between the couch pillows--far too many for her the ever finish. I suppose I thought if my grandmother kept up her interests, she wouldn't die; she'd have to stay around to finish the books she was so fond of. I've got to get to the bottom of this one, she'd say, as if a book were no different from a pond or a lake. I thought she'd go on reading forever but it didn't work out that way.

and from then on whenever he smells lilacs he'll think about this moment. How the bees were circling above him, how purple the ink on the leaflets he's been distributing suddenly seemed, how he realized, all at once, just how beautiful a woman can be.

Let everyone see the blood,' he said. 'Don't clean it up. That's the only way people remember.'... I could see the blood inside my head. It was with me forever, whether or not I wanted to forget.

Children would beg for a peppermint drop each time he walked into town, and they'd follow behind, asking for a second and a third. When he died suddenly, while working late at his office, every boy and girl in the village reported smelling mint in the night air, as if somehing sweet had passed them right by.