Quotes About Memory

If you wish to forget anything on the spot, make a note that this thing is to be remembered.

Ah, distinctly I remember it was in the bleak December;And each separate dying ember wrought its ghost upon the floor.

The past is a pebble in my shoe.

Then, to be able to remember the sunset, to be able to remember a beautiful conversation, a beautiful deed done where hope and faith were created, to remember the smile of a babe, the blush of a rose, the harmony of a song--a bird's call; these are creative. For if they are a part of thyself, they bring you closer and closer to God.

It is all very well to copy what one sees, but it is far better to draw what one now only sees in one's memory. That is a transformation in which imagination collaborates with memory.

I am Anne Rutledge who sleep beneath these weeds,Beloved in life of Abraham Lincoln.

My name used to be in the papers daily As having dined somewhere, Or traveled somewhere, Or rented a house in Paris, Where I entertained the nobility. I was forever eating or traveling, Or taking the cure at Baden-Baden. Now I am here to do honor To Spoon River, here beside the family whence I sprang. No one cares now where I dined, Or lived, or whom I entertained, Or how often I took the cure at Baden-Baden!

KNOWLT HOHEIMER I was the first fruits of the battle of Missionary Ridge. When I felt the bullet water my heart I wished I had staid at home and gone to jail For stealing the hogs of Curl Trenary, Instead of running away and joining the army. Rather a thousand times the country jail That to lie under his marble figure with wings, And this granite pedestal Bearing the words, «Pro Patria». What do they mean, anyway?

A lot of the songs start with an image. I was sitting there playing the guitar and I pictured this old, dirty green car, with the window rolled down, in the hot, hot, hot Texas heat, and this beautiful woman I knew when I was a kid sitting behind the wheel, looking out at me.

Of all the places I didn't want to live, the past was at the top of the list.

I have a terrible memory; I never forget a thing.

He gave her that last word. He gave her his love. He would think of her almost every day for the rest of his life. Only his presence would he withhold.

Do you remember what you said to me once? That you could help me only by loving me? Well-you did love me for a moment; and it helped me. It has always helped me.

History is a novel that has been lived, a novel is history that could have been.

History is a pact between the dead, the living, and the yet unborn.

For deeds do die, however nobly done,And thoughts of men do as themselves decay,But wise words taught in numbers for to run,Recorded by the Muses, live for ay.

One day I wrote her name upon the strand, But came the waves and washèd it away: Again I wrote it with a second hand, But came the tide, and made my pains his prey.

If I could only remember that the days were, not bricks to be laid row on row, to be built into a solid house, where one might dwell in safety and peace, but only food for the fires of the heart.

Sometimes one word can recall a whole span of life.

I only know that summer sang in meA little while, that in me sings no more.

Life must go on; I forget just why.

A ghost in marble of a girl you knew Who would have loved you in a day or two.

There are a hundred places where I fear To go, --so with his memory they brim! And entering with relief some quiet place Where never fell his foot or shone his face I say, 'There is no memory of him here!' And so stand stricken, so remembering him!

When you are corn and roses and at rest I shall endure, a dense and sanguine ghost To haunt the scene where I was happiest To bend above the thing I loved the most